For the life of me, I’m trying to remember if I have gone to a friend’s wedding since George died, and the only one I can think of was my friend Nick’s wedding which was nearly a month after George died. I attended another wedding as a person’s date, but there wasn’t anyone there who I knew. It felt like being at a strangers house party.
But in a matter of weeks, I’m going to a friend’s wedding and then there’s mine.
Planning my wedding has been a mindnumbing experience. I’m going through the motions with little to no emotion. When I tried on my wedding dresses, it was like looking at a stranger. I selected my dress based on comfort and price. And when it came back to get it altered, it wasn’t me who I was looking at. It was a mess of a woman who is so broken and fractured wearing a big white dress.
I want to get married, but this is one of the hardest things I’ve had to do. The emotional consequences attached to planning this wedding is like steering a boat into a thunderstorm. Every forward movement is creating larger waves with each passing day. Something is about the break, and I feel the horror building inside of me.
But I know it will be blue skies once I get through this. And I know I’ll be making lifetime memories with the people I love. But I also know that these carefree and jovial memories carry a darkness behind every smile and pose. But what kind of way is it to live with fear and anxiety on days that are supposed to be the greatest experience of your life?
What’s wrong with me?
I’m widowed. I will always be a widow. The amount of grief, guilt, and regret I carry cannot be healed by remarrying. It’s a burden I’ll carry for a lifetime. But the grief moments lessen as days push forward. I am excited to be a wife again, I can’t wait to start building a life and perhaps a family with my soon-to-be husband. But my ghosts will always haunt me and they’ll continue whispering and tormenting me until I become still.