In the weeks leading up to our very mobile and much moved wedding, I referred to my dress as "the snowgoose." It was way more dress than I ever thought I would or should wear, and I wore it for one reason only. I've told this story to a few people, and after thinking about it I think it needs to be known. Call it "why Jill would ever consider being a snowgoose."
Casper and I were joined as a family in 2011, in a full service that had no legal standing. At that time marriage was illegal for us in our home state. What was important to us was being seen as a family with the kids, and with them involved. In January, 2013, we were joined in a simple Civil Union in Hawaii. That made us "legal" and took place by the ocean, the one place Casper is ever totally at peace. We had whales not far from shore and Honus onshore. There was a double rainbow overhead. It was intimate and loving and totally an expression of "us"
Then the Supreme Court, unexpectedly and delightfully and amazingly came through for us. The day before Chloe turned 18 we were able to celebrate that marriage was, forevermore, legal for all of us in California. We planned a Christmas wedding. No rush, the church would be decorated and festive, we could keep it simple.
Then came the sudden downhill slide of Casper's Lewy Body disease. In June a December wedding seemed reasonable. Casper and I went to the mall to pull ideas together. I thought we were looking for a Christmasy looking vest or sweater for her, and something like that for me. As were were (barely) making it to the second store, and she was getting winded (for the first time ever), and exhausted, and gray, we sat. She, of course, refused to use a wheelchair or walker in public. People might think she was sick! That's when she said "I need to wear a tux."
What?
Where did simple go?
"I need my family here."
Uh oh. Dollar signs flashed, and I banished them.
Why a tux? "Because you want me in one. And you will have a dress. Let's look for one."
Umm, us? A dress? We did that before. Let's keep it simple.
"No. This is the last time. This one counts. We're doing this right."
We bought rings that day. The saleswoman watched Casper intently, then Casper sat in the waiting area while I finished the arrangements. The saleswoman asked it she could ask a question that was personal. "Does Casper have Lewy Bodies? She acts like my dad." We had a heart to heart. The long process of diagnosis. The heartbreak of there being no hope of recovery. The loss of dignity, the loss of memory. The feeling of just too much loss that will not stop. The need to make this wedding matter.
The next week, when Casper finally felt good again for a few hours, we went to the bridal store, where I showed her what i thought was my dress. Ivory. Lace. Understated. Elegant. Fit for a bride about to be fifty years old. Casper sat in a chair and looked. Finally she said "It's all right."
Shannon, the saleswoman, who knew our story and had taken an immediate liking to Casper, picked it up. "Casper, come with me. Show me what you see Jill in as your bride." Uh oh...
She took Casper's arm, steadying her as she started to fall sideways into an anorexic mannequin whose beading weighed more than she did. Five minutes later they were back. Shannon needed help from another salesgirl. There was too much lace, too much tulle, for her arms. I gulped.
"Jill, come on in here. You are going to be Casper's bride. Now let's make it happen." Three layers of undergarments. Then tulle. And more tulle. And crinoline underneath. Gone were the lace sleeves. Gone was ivory. I was in a white, beaded tulle creation that was three feet wider than I was. Shannon held her fingers to her lips. The universal sign for "hush." Casper told her at the racks that I was everything to her. And she saw me as her princess.
I walked out. My Casper, who cannot smile without forcing herself to because of this disease, smiled. Ear to ear. Tears in her eyes. Then a nod. "Now that's the dress. That's what I want to see you when you come down that aisle."
My head was all about I am too old for this thing. My heart was all about Casper. And the dress was ordered. By the time of the wedding it had a headpiece and gloves added by my friend Terry "for a little rebellion."
We found the tux Casper liked. We bought it. Casper, who worries about money constantly since she got sick, didn't bat an eye. Because this was for our wedding. Red tie, red vest. We moved the wedding up. Twice. Our doctor warned us she might not be walking in November. Red became a fall color, and we made it work.
On October 12th, when I peeked out and saw Casper waiting to enter the church ahead of the girls and the flower tots, I saw that smile. She had to be held up by her brother and sister. She was not feeling good. But she was smiling. And when I walked down to her, the look was priceless. The day was magic. We had two of the best hours we'd had in months. And it mattered.
No comments:
Post a Comment