A little while ago, Mr. Oyster and I attended a wedding. It was lovely; the bride was beautiful, lots of happy, supportive family members, and a lot of cute little dancing kids. Everything was just fine until the father/daughter dance. When the bride and her dad took the dance floor, I was watching quietly with everyone else, when --surprise!-- I burst into tears and actually had to leave the room for a few minutes (luckily no one noticed).
Hadn't I grieved for my father already? I had done everything you're supposed to do when you lose a parent -- giving yourself time to grieve, strengthening relationships with remaining family members, therapy, etc., etc... but I realized, or had always known really, that there are certain aspects of this type of loss that just don't get easier.
I have always had a soft spot for father/daughter dances, and this one was no different. I've grieved his loss a million different ways, but show me a little girl and her dad, and it gets me every time. When we went to this wedding, a couple months ago, it was around the time it was really sinking in for me that I was getting married. When I saw the bride dance with her father, I was reminded of all the things I never got to have my father here for, and all the ways he will not be a part of my life... which include my wedding.
My dad was a nice guy. He was a big, football player-looking type, with a great smile and a sparkling personality. We shared all the interests that are a major part of my life now: teaching, music, photography, computers, writing. My dad is also where I got my incredibly silly sense of humor. When I was younger, Dad would turn on the music and we would run around the house, making up impromptu dances or songs that we would sing to my mom, who would look, bewildered, from one of us to the other and remark at how much we were alike. Later in life, things between him & my mother weren't so good, and our relationship suffered. But I have so many good memories, and over time, those are the ones I remember most vividly.
Sometimes I imagine a parallel life, one in which my father had lived. (I've read that this is common among people who've lost a parent.) So much of who I am now is because of the loss I suffered then. If my father were here, would I still be the same person? I guess it doesn't matter, but I wonder what he would think of Mr. Oyster, and I imagine he'd be happy to walk down the aisle with me at the wedding.
I'm writing this on Father's Day. This is my least favorite holiday; because of the obvious loss, but also because the anniversary of my father's death is the second week in June, so I am always mourning and dealing with Father's Day at once. This year is the tenth without him.
Some years are easier than others. Sometimes I'm distracted, like the year I spent the summer in another country. A couple times I celebrated with a friend who'd also lost her father. And I imagine that someday, Mr. Oyster and I will have entirely new little reasons to celebrate Father's Day, which is something to look forward to. But today is a little difficult.
If you're lucky enough to have a father or stepfather (or both!) to walk you down the aisle, be grateful, whether your relationship with him is a close one or is fractured. Help him with his tie; dance with him; savor all the happy moments you have. Make sure you thank him for being at your wedding and give him a hug. That is what I would do.
Me at age 2, taken by my dad.
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