My Mom’s a major romantic. Really, a first class, professional romantic.
|This veil is actually a Spanish Mantilla - it was handmade by some of the last women alive that still hand embroider on silk, it was a literal work of art and I hope my daughter decides to wear it if she chooses to marry.|
She dried and kept the first flowers the Husband ever sent me from Italy to Houston, just in case I wanted them one day. She kept our locks of hair, our cutest baby outfits, random little notes and drawings from our childhood and from my dad. She made my wedding day extra special, going out of her way to help me realize all my dreams. As I said, she’s a romantic. My dad? Not so much.
|These pictures are in no way related to the text, other than they're from my Mom's wedding day and my kids are adorable.|
When my parents met it was love at first sight, and despite the many, many years difference between them, their romance progressed at lighting speed. Before they even blinked my Mom had moved from Brazil to Italy and was pregnant with me. My Dad, at the time, was going through (or had just gone through – I’m not exactly sure of the exact timeline) a complicated divorce in addition to which the ludicrous Italian Catholic-based divorce laws said, at the time, that a couple had to be legally separated for at least 5 years before being granted a divorce (nowadays it’s three years. Yes, three years). My dad, who was not even remotely a “grey area” type of guy renounced the entire institution of marriage swearing up, down and around that he would never, ever get married ever again. My dewy-eyed, barely twenty year-old mother, agreed with him because, well, what else was she going to do?
|This one here probably wouldn't have been as complacent as her Nana.|
Fast-forward a few years and my dad decides to move the entire fam across the pond to seek new fortunes in the new world. Alas, the stringent American Immigration laws would not extend his visa to his “life partner”, it was a get married or get out of town ultimatum. So they got married. In Vegas. My Dad barely made the effort to comb his hair before stepping into the chapel. Basically, not what a romantic girl dreams of when imagining her wedding day. Still, my Mom made the best of it, she dried and kept the half-assed bouquet he bought her, and framed the few photographs.
Let me be clear, my Dad loved my Mom more than life itself, but he was no romantic.
Years later, my Mother, having finally found her voice, issued her own ultimatum: give me a real wedding or suffer very dire consequences. My Dad agreed, bought her an actual engagement ring, and then sort of forgot about the whole thing (as men are wont to do). Obviously there was no sense of urgency, they’d already been together for thirty plus years, one year more or less wasn’t going to change a thing… except my Dad died. So it appeared my Mom was never going to get the wedding she had always dreamt of.
Some people, though, are really lucky in love. A few years after my Dad’s passing, and much to her children and step children’s collective relief she fell in love again with a great guy. Don’t get me wrong, he will never replace my Dad (to me, lest you think me disloyal) but he’s exactly who my Mom needed and wanted at this time in her life. He’s the bee’s knees.
|The Groom's cake - I didn't manage to get in there and snap a picture before they started cutting.|
I already mentioned how cool it was of him to get married in a foreign country, in a foreign language, in a foreign church (i.e. in Rome, in Italian and in the Catholic church) – well, cool and a little reckless as he, and more than half of the guests, had no earthly idea what in the heck was going on – but it’s not just that. He gave my Mom her dream. I’m pretty sure that his entire involvement in this whole affair was something along the lines of “this is your suit, show up at this church”; my Mom, on the other hand, organized everything with such minute attention to detail that I almost didn’t recognize her.
She got her dream wedding, and her dream husband (twice in one lifetime, I’m telling you lucky in love), and for a romantic such as she there really isn’t anything to top that. Because, you know, it’s not just about the wedding itself, it’s about a sense of fulfillment, of accomplishment, sometimes we need to see our dreams come true, whatever these may be. And I, for one, was over the moon to see my Mom live her dream, after all, how often do we get to do that, it’s usually always the other way around.
Today I’m linking up with Heather over at Life made lovely, for the woman who made my life lovely every day.