Weddingbee Blog

I haven’t written the post where I complain about one whole side of my family being absent from our wedding—mostly because I believe the less energy I give it, the easier I can get over it.

However, I did see a handful of those family members at my brother’s recent wedding and I’m so happy that we did get some celebratory face-time. I love them…and I tried my best to put on my I-ain’t-mad-at’cha face. We haven’t been super close, but I appreciate the times when we do see each other.

Almost immediately after entering the rehearsal dinner, my dad’s cousin stood and said that she’d like to say something. She instantly became emotional and I could just feel my repressed tears inching their way to the corners of my eyes. She produced 2 rolled-up and ribboned papers and said one was for my brother’s bride and one was for me. Me?! This wasn’t about me! If she had wanted to do me, she should have waited another month for MY rehearsal dinner!

But I kindly took the roll and untied the purple bow.

I could barely make out what it said before those silly little tears took flight. And by flight, I mean, everywhere. All over my face, my dress, my dinner—I clearly became unglued in front of my brother’s entire rehearsal dinner. Mortification!!!

The letter read:

To Melissa and Brianne,

Tradition has it that a bride, on her wedding day, wears something old, something new, something borrowed, and something blue.

Here is “something old” for each of you, but first some H—– family genealogy.

On August 3, 1911 Sara B (1890-1978) married Robert I (1887-1918). Sara and Robert were my maternal grandparents. Robert was the brother of Ione May I (1882-1972), who married Ralph H, Nick and Brianne’s paternal great grandfather.

When my grandmother (Sara) passed away, I inherited many of her linens. This year her daughter, Jeannette (1912-2010), my mother, passed away and I have been going through many of these linens again. Among them I found two lovely lace-edged handkerchiefs. I’m sure they date from the early 20th century if not earlier.

I pass one along to each of you, Melissa and Brianne, as a memento of those who went before in the extended H—– family.

Your cousin,

Terry Ann S. S.

The handkerchief was in a plastic zipped bag, attached to the letter.

I hadn’t even thought of my “something old,” but there it was sitting in my tear-stained lap. “Why did you become so un-hinged?” You may ask. And honestly, I don’t know what to tell you other than all of those feelings about my dad’s side of the family being unable to attend (for one reason or the other) had bubbled-up to the surface. The early 20th century handkerchief will be the only symbol of that family at our wedding.

I’m not sure how I will incorporate it into my wardrobe. Maybe sew it to the inside of my dress? Maybe fold it into my bouquet? Or dare I even use it as it was intended– to wipe my tears (of joy, of course)? I’ll keep it in a safe place and let it tell me what it wants to do on my special day.

Did something shatter your composure in your planning process? Please tell me I’m not the only one!