Requiem for a Wedding Day

Fifty years ago, on 27 July 1971, I married for the first time. It’s only natural that I am thinking about it and looking back. There won’t be any anniversary parties or dinners or a date night to mark the occasion.
The marriage didn’t make it.

It’s especially reasonable to reminisce now while my daughter and I are using the KonMari Method to declutter our entire house. What do I keep? What do I discard? What brings me joy?

We had a mostly typical, for its time, wedding day.
Something borrowed; something blue; something old; and something new.
For the wedding day, I followed the protocol.
Borrowed jewelry from my dearest friend and soon to be sister-in-law.
The campy and obligatory blue garter.
Some garment pieces were old; nevermind about those.
The gown and all the trimmings were new.

Like many brides I had decided in childhood what I would some day wear at my wedding.
I was eight years old when my cousin got married. As I sat there and watched her come forth in her lacy white gown, I decided then and there I wanted that. That tight bodice dress with a multi-tiered full length bell shaped skirt and long train. I was determined to wear a gown like that regardless, even if I would have gotten married under a bridge. It was going to be that gown! It was.

Photo credit: Osborne Studios

Something borrowed
We were in our teens. As they say, “We didn’t know from.” So we borrowed. We borrowed passed down frameworks on how to live in the world. Hard work, discipline, consistency. There’s a story about a king back in the day, who would invite peasants to special events in the palace. The king had the custom to offer something to his poor guests. “Look around,” he would say. “Behold, all you see. When it is time to leave, you may take one thing, anything, you want.”
At the end of the evening a particular guest wanted the handheld silver dinner bell that the king had used throughout the many courses of the feast. The next day, the peasant sat at the head of his own rough-hewn wooden table and rang the bell. He was surprised and confused, he did not understand why when he ran the bell, it did not summon the servants to wait on him and bring plates full of succulent treats.

Sometimes, most times, in my life it felt like I was simply ringing the silver bell.

Borrowed items are supposed to be returned. I gave it all back years ago. Over these years too, I have returned to myself. It feels like a process, to be honest, of continual returning to oneself. To go back and pick up deeper and richer versions of ourselves. Now, instead of borrowing, I explore and create and give away. Nowadays, I feel like the king sitting at my own table and enjoying and sharing the feast.

Something blue
We were young and had the world before us. We were like the old song lyric, and off we went into the wild blue yonder. We were determined to climb high into the sun. And we did. Like the current manifesters, we created quite a life from our thoughts and actions alone. Little was given to us.

Blue is also what we eventually made each other feel. What we each wanted was worlds and worlds apart, so we broke apart and went forth separately to those worlds.

Those blue skies comfort me now. When I was younger I had no idea what people were talking about when they complained about gloomy weather and how it could make them feel sad. I was oblivious to the external conditions, I carried my own weather inside me. My storms and my sunny days determined how I felt. I was susceptible to my own inner weather and could be tossed violently about and smashed upon the rocky shore. Thankfully, I’ve learned the sky, by default, is always blue. It is only covered by the passing clouds. Sometimes, the clouds are fluffy, white, and small and other times dark, ominous, and immensely huge. I’ve learned to objectively observe them as they pass by, and to find comfort in the ever present blue skies.

Something old
There were plenty of old misconceptions and old dysfunctions and old paradigms we knew about and were certain we were rejecting. It was the Age of Aquarius and a new dawning. We were sure we were living our lives by our own standards. Too often, we were only re-tailoring the old to fit us. We were fooling ourselves. We may have blazed some new trails, but we re-lived inherited old mistakes. Like the baby being thrown out with the bath water, old- timey ethics and truth were sometimes abandoned. Later, in my own chosen world, it was those virtues of old that sustained me and continues to do so. I hold fast to the concept of love being the energy that unites us, that love and Oneness are synonymous. There is much good in the world and its beginning is immemorial.

Something new
Everything was new to us back then. In fact we ourselves were new and hadn’t been on the planet all that long! We were negotiating our way through adult life and learned along the way. Mostly, I cried. I was expecting our little wedding album to be the same price as my dad’s had been two years prior. That’s what I budgeted for. The photographer told me, “prices go up.” Well, I didn’t know that! I cried. He did it anyway for that price and threw in the single portrait for the newspaper. When we moved to another state, I had money for one utility’s deposit, but there were two utility companies, I didn’t know that! I cried. The man at one of them was sweet and arranged for it to be spread out over time.

There were new places and new faces. Because of the military, we lived in Europe, Asia, and different American locales. Later on, we were new at parenthood. New children, new challenges, and new blessings and new joys.

Life is quite the journey, and I’m grateful to be on it.
Someone recently asked me, “Where would you like to go?”
I’m enjoying where I am. I’m in a good place.
I answered, “Wherever I am, I want to be present.”

So, I’m sorting through item upon item, doing the KonMari Method, and asking myself if it brings me joy.

The 50 year old wedding gown; packed away in its box. I took it out on my 30th birthday years ago to see if it still fit. It did. The desire for it started when I was eight years old. I remember shopping for it at Rike’s Department Store. I remember the fitting. I remember the scratchy feel of the insides and the lacy sleeves. Back then we accepted discomfort more readily. I thought one day a daughter would wear it. Who wants an old gown from a broken home?
Does it bring me joy now?

I didn’t go to prom or have a prom gown. I walked down an aisle and jumped into life.

Back then, the wedding gown was new. Nowadays, the new is my every moment.
Every day I look forward to what I can do and experience and what I can be.

The new brings me joy.

The new is also me.

Because I weigh less than I did at 30 years old I was expecting fitting into the gown, after 50 years, to bring me joy. It doesn’t fit me. I’ve changed. What fit the old me, does not fit the new me in more ways than the gown. There is joy in that awareness.

The wedding gown falls into the sentimental category. In the KonMari Method, decluttering is done by categories. The sentimental category is done last because it is the most difficult and we wait until we are more experienced and seasoned at the decluttering process. I am grateful for that. I’m not sure about the wedding gown.

Does it bring me joy?

I need more time, I need more experience.

Just like my life. I am old now, but I’m new at it.

(the beginning)

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