It was 4:30am, although I awoke after maybe two hours of sleep at 4:00am. The doorbell rang and there was Teresa, our hairdresser, equipped with blow dryer, curling iron, brushes, hair ornaments, bobby pins, tons of hair spray and her usual big smile. “Good morning,” she giggled, “I think the only ones up are us and Newsday.”
And so it began- the day- THE DAY of the wedding. Teresa set up shop in our dining room. At 5:00am, Holly, the makeup artist, arrived with her tools. At the crack of dawn we were all wide-awake, getting ourselves beautiful. At 5:30am, the videographer, Chris and assistant Kim, arrived to start chronicling the day’s events. Soon after, came Dee, the photographer. It was like a movie set- hair, makeup, props and cameras.
They took pictures of everything- the rings, the shoes, the jewelry, the invitation- in distinct ways. One time I came into my bedroom and there was one of them, Dee, I think, who was standing on my bed, taking a picture of Lindsay’s wedding dress, which was sprawled out on my pillow shams. Another time, he asked me for a couple of sheets, which were draped over Lindsay, who was undressed, to take interesting seductive bride photos. It was a frenetic whirl of many things going on at once, that ironically, were very well organized. I started to write down some dialogue that was worth noting, just to write something to remember this day tangibly:
Lindsay: “Holly, can you make my pimple disappear?”
Mark: “Can I use the bathroom yet?!”
Me (after Holly applied my mom’s makeup): “Mom, you look like a movie star!”
Mom: “I am a movie star.”
Mark: “Can I use the bathroom yet?!”
Anya: “I’m Anya, the photographer.”
Mark: “Oh…the forty-seventh one!” then “Can I use the bathroom yet?!”
I probably will always recall the doorbell ringing almost every five minutes as people arrived- my brother-in-law, Scott, dropping off Stephanie, my niece; Lindsay’s friend, Jaime, coming to get my mom, Stephanie and my other niece, Julianna to drive them to get their hair done at the neighborhood salon that opened extra early for the bridal party; the day of coordinator, Danielle, running back and forth between our house and the salon to check to make sure everything was on time; our next door neighbor, Nicole, coming to pick up Sonny to watch him for the day for us; the florist delivering the bouquets.
We had to be at the Riviera, the wedding venue, by about 9:00am to start taking photos of the bride and groom, bridal party and family. At around 7:30am all the bridesmaids, Erica, Jaimie, Julia, Julianna, Lisa, Michele and Steph were in my house, hair and makeup done, along with the two flower girls, Gianna and Marisa and were ready to get dressed. Luckily, I had asked Diana, my mother’s companion to come in the morning to help my mom get dressed; she was a godsend. My mother had asked me about ten times where we had put her shoes. I told her they were right on the top shelf of her closet. I knew I should have taken them down, but I thought Diana would be able to find them. I was relieved when my mother appeared all dressed and looking absolutely gorgeous. She sat down on a chair across from me in the dining room. Then it hit me. I think it was around the time that Kimberly informed us that the brooch she bought to put on her maid of honor dress to make it a little different from the bridesmaids’ dresses had broken.
After a whole week of me being the calm one and Lindsay being the stressed one, we switched roles- Lindsay became the calm one and I started panicking. While I was getting my hair curled, I asked my mom to come and hold my hand. The photographer, Dee, noticed this and thought it was an opportune time to take a picture. So he started snapping shots of me and my mom as she calmed my nerves by just holding my hand as Teresa did my hair; he snapped shots of just our hands, and then he brought Lindsay’s hands into the picture, making sure all our diamond rings were showing- three generations of hands. Teresa finished my hair and sewed on Kim’s brooch. A hairdresser who sews- what more could you ask for?
Finally it was time to get Lindsay into her dress, while being photographed, of course. We were running behind schedule. He suggested I get into my dress first, for the pictures. My dress had what my seamstress called an invisible zipper, which was going to be tricky. I prayed…to the G-d of zippers to come through for me, while Lindsay and Danielle and I think two others tried to zip up the tricky, invisible zipper. My prayers were answered. Then Lindsay noticed, “What is that black and blue mark from?” That’s when I remembered just last week I had walked backwards into a wall at work and said to myself, “Perfect, you are going to have a black and blue mark on your back that is not going to be covered by the dress you are wearing to Lindsay’s wedding.” “It kind of matches the color of your gown,” Lindsay said. My gown was a light, flowing one shoulder with an embellished bustline and ruche bottom in a silvery slate blue. “Don’t worry, Holly will cover it up,” Lindsay reassured me. Holly applied some make up on it.
The next zipper I prayed to the zipper G-d for was Lindsay’s after I hooked what seemed like 25 hooks on the corset attached to her modified, mermaid-wedding gown, while being photographed, naturally. The zipper G-d came through again. Earrings. Necklace. Bracelets. Rings. More photos. Then shoes. Then head piece. Then Veil. More photos.
The Limo arrived. Somehow, sometime during all this hustle and bustle Mark was able to get into the bathroom to shower at last and get dressed in his tux. He looked so darn handsome. We all looked beautiful. The sun had risen during all our primping to a magnificent blue sky reminiscent of my father’s eyes and coincidently matching the color of my mother’s dress.
We were ready to leave. One minor problem- we had one bouquet missing. Someone called the florist. The bouquet was at the Riviera. We all packed into the limousine and headed to the wedding. At that moment I was glad I lost that argument with Lindsay and Scott about not needing the limos they insisted on. I looked at Julia and Erica and remembered the times I sent Lindsay off with them in limos to Junior and High School proms. I looked at Lisa and remembered Lindsay’s first year of college and all her acting years. I reflected on how the years had flown by and realized how much more rapidly this day was going to fly by. I could see the glorious blue sky enveloping us outside the windows of the limo. That blue sky was my father looking down on me, I decided. I took it in, all of it. I relished that moment. The weather was a perfect 10. Lindsay was sitting next to my mother in the limo. She looked so beautiful. It was like a dream, but better.
We arrived at the Riviera at 9:30, a half hour behind schedule, but not too bad. Phil and Phyllis, Scott’s parents were there already. Phyllis looked elegant in her gold organza gown. Vickie, the best caterer in the whole darn world, was preparing us for the reveal- when Scott sees Lindsay in her wedding dress for the first time. We got the extra bouquet, thank goodness. Things were going okay. My sister-in-law, Bonni, and best wedding planner in the whole darn world came in right after us- but her expression worried me. She told me that my brother, who was in charge of her three sons while she got the rest of the stuff together, forgot to take my 12-year old nephew, Max’s jacket. Max was the groomsman, who was walking my mom down the aisle. I looked at Max; yes indeed, he did not have his jacket. My brother, with my nephew, Jake, had to go back to his house to get the jacket. I prayed to the G-d of photos that my brother and Jake would return in time to be in the family photo.
We headed out to the back by the gazebo, elegantly decorated with tropical flowers, at the end of the paved aisle, overlooking the water on the Great South Bay for the reveal. Lovely swans sat on the water. Somebody asked me about my black and blue mark.
We all watched as Scott faced the Great South Bay and the photographer and videographer shot the scene of Lindsay coming up behind him dressed as his bride, until he was told he could turn around and see her for the first time. It was so sweet when they saw each other. Indescribable. They looked so happy. He picked her up and spun her around. The photographers started taking the photos, while the items for the ceremony were arranged and the DJ set up his equipment. He took pictures of the bridal party first, then Scott’s family, who were all there, as we stalled waiting for my brother-in-law, sister-in-law, who just had back surgery and was not moving too fast these past days along with their son and my sisters and brother-in- law and nephew and my brother and nephew, who would have been there if it weren’t for the jacket he left behind. Finally, everyone came, except for my brother and nephew and now they’re not in the family picture. Even though I thought maybe we would get another opportunity when he arrived, it never came.
Guests were arriving; we were rushed past them as we went to take our places for the ceremony. Lindsay and Scott went to meet with the rabbi to sign the ketubah- Jewish marriage contract. My mother told me she was having problems with her shoes. I looked down at her feet and saw that the strap kept slipping down, then I looked more closely and horrified, I realized- THESE WERE THE WRONG SHOES!! I wanted to kick myself for not taking the right shoes down from the closet. It was totally my fault. Diana found shoes that were similar, but they were the ones that my mom wore on her 50th wedding anniversary. They were not the newer, more comfortable ones we just bought. There was nothing I could do. I asked Danielle, the day of coordinator for some advice. “Take her stockings off. Then her feet won’t slip in them.” I grabbed my two sisters to help her do this. It worked, thankfully.
More and more guests were arriving. I became so overwhelmed with excitement and happiness. We just had the ceremony to get through and then we could just relax and celebrate, as Vickie, the best caterer in the whole darn world had promised.
We waited by the doors to the garden as they seated the guests. I saw my friends and family. Almost everyone in the world whom I loved was there to share our joy. I was bursting with emotion. I couldn’t think of the word that described how I was feeling, but I knew there was one.
The DJ began the music and Max walked my mom down the aisle, followed by the bridesmaids in their red dresses, holding their tropical colored bouquets beside each groomsmen. The best man walked down next. Then, Phil and Phyllis walked Scott down the aisle in Jewish tradition. After them, came the flower girls, Gianna and Marisa, dressed in white with red sashes, throwing flower petals from their baskets. Next, came Kimberly, maid of honor, extraordinarily beautiful on this day, glowing. And then it was our turn.
A little over a year had passed. The planning was done. Every detail, put together, with some minor upsets. I was the mother of the bride; Mark was the father of the bride. We were at the threshold to a milestone that parents dared to dream of. It was one of the most precious moments of my life. Mark turned to me, happy tears filling his eyes and said, “I think I might lose it.” I knew. He felt it too. He was bursting- but I couldn’t think of that word to describe the feeling. I put my arm in his as we walked down the steps, down the aisle, looking at Vickie, for the cue for where to stand to wait for Lindsay. The song “Feels Like Home” began to play, as Lindsay had planned, as she walked towards us. It was everything I ever dreamed of, but more.
And Mark and I, the parents of the bride walked our little girl (I can still call her a little girl because she’s only 4’10”) down the aisle as the blue sky surrounded us and the blue water of the Great South Bay sparkled like stars, just beyond the gazebo/chuppah, as the most important people in our lives stood to watch us. We each kissed her on either cheek, and left her for her groom, Scott, to join her and walk together down the aisle as we joined the Rabbi and Phil and Phyllis under the chuppah.
The ceremony was so lovely, pure and heartfelt. The rabbi talked about the Jewish customs of marriage; we helped by reciting the seven blessings. But the most touching part was when Scott and Lindsay read their vows. It was the first time anyone had ever heard them. How blessed I was to witness this, to see Lindsay and Scott, never taking their eyes off one another, so happy, so happy. I breathed it all in. And I thought, I will never question whether heaven exists, because I was right there at that moment- a place where only blue skies, sparkling water and genuine love exist. I will cherish that moment for as long as I live.
The bride and groom exchanged rings- Mark’s father’s and my mother’s rings were used (something old, something borrowed). Phyllis and I were presented with roses. Red and beige sand were poured in a jar to symbolize uniting the two families. Scott broke the glass. A hum of Mazel Tovs. And a kiss.
At the end there was the special surprise, Phil and Phyllis’ wedding gift- the releasing of the white doves- the first, to symbolize the people no longer with us- my dad, Mark’s parents, Aunt Laura, Phyllis’ parents and Phil’s parents. Then the second, to symbolize the marriage of Lindsay and Scott. The doves flew out of their heart-shaped cages into the blue sky- separately, then joined as a flock in the picture perfect blue sky– splendid! I was bursting with emotion, again. I heard everyone was. I was told there wasn’t a dry eye in the house. I still couldn’t find the word to describe it.
The party began- there was an indoor/outdoor cocktail hour with steel drums playing on the patio outside. It made it feel like you were on a cruise. The guests were saying it felt like a destination wedding. The three other brides from the reality TV show were there with the camera crew from TLC, but you never would have known it. They blended in. We mingled with them. They loved the ceremony. Everyone loved the ceremony. A few more people asked about my black and blue mark.
Everyone loved everything. I know I doubted “perfect” before, but everyone kept telling me it was perfect. They kept using the word “perfect” to describe it, to describe everything about it. Perfect. The food. Perfect. The DJ. Perfect. The Chocolate Fountain. Perfect. Kim’s speech that brought her to tears and everyone else; Mark’s speech that brought him to tears and everyone else. The father/daughter dance to Heartland’s I Loved Her First, followed by a surprise song of Red Rubber Ball- the song Mark and Lindsay used to sing together all the time. The mother/son dance. Perfect. Lindsay surprising Scott by singing him the Madonna song, True Love. Perfect. My mom looking so beautiful, even though a little uncomfortable with the wrong shoes on. It was an amazing, glorious day, weather and all.
But besides being perfect, everyone was bursting with emotion. I think Bonni cried through the whole day. At one point, Meryl, my best friend, who came all the way from Florida with Steve, her husband, who were there at my wedding 32 years ago, who made me walk up and down their kitchen stool to try to induce me into labor the night before Lindsay was born, turned and said to me, “Oy, I’m so verklempt!” That’s the word! That’s the word I couldn’t think of- Verklempt! Then Bonni turned to me and said, “I’m verklempt, I’m just verklempt!.” I think at least ten more people came over to say they were verklempt, mostly if they were Jewish, because it is a Yiddish word. However, I thought I did hear my friends, Janet and Cathy tell me they were verklempt and they’re Italian, although, maybe I’m just imagining it. In any case, I’m sure they’ll be saying it in the future.
So it’s over, officially. It was. It was two days ago. It was spectacular. The best day of my life, for sure, except for when I gave birth to my babies; however, I looked a lot better at the wedding. And yes it did go by fast. That was no surprise. So what. Because while it was happening, it was everything I ever dreamed of, but a million times more amazing than that. And it was perfect- except for my brother and nephew not being in the family picture, my black and blue mark and my mother’s shoe mix-up. It was as perfect as that evanescent butterfly, briefly kissing your skin, as delicate as a baby’s touch.
Monday morning, after I went into my mom’s closet and found the right shoes that we bought but she didn’t wear, I said to her what I thought my Grandma Fanny would have said.
You know, ma. You were supposed to wear those shoes to the wedding. Even though they were uncomfortable. Those were the shoes that you wore to your 50th wedding anniversary party. It was a sign- they were ‘good luck’ shoes for Lindsay and Scott’s wedding. This means they are going to have a long and happy life together.
“You think so?” she asked me.
Yes. I really do.
The journey is finished. All good things come to an end at some point. I hung my mother of the bride dress up in the closet and hung Lindsay’s wedding gown in what used to be her room. What will I do now? I’m a lot relieved and a little sad that it is all behind me. What will I do now? I think to myself. I can dare to imagine another wedding, with my little butterfly, sweet Kim, as the bride- (Mother of the Bride, Two???). What will I do now? Well right now, I am savoring the sweetness of perfection in my memories of being the mother of the bride. And I’m also feeling a little verklempt.
