The grieving girl's guide to life: the girl plans a wedding

The little app on my phone tells me we have 12 days to go, which seems impossible. The big decisions, some exciting (food) some boring (polyester tablecloths) have already been made and we're now looking down the barrel of something that's actually happening and somehow involves doilies. 

If we're being honest, 2016 hasn't been that crazy yet. We've been busy but there have been no wedding planning related tears, no days when I've felt incapable. When we got engaged last year I was still having a fair amount of "bad days" every month so I front-ended as much of the work as possible, using my good days to make progress wherever I could. By the end of the year we had our caterer, our venue, my dress, bridesmaids dresses, music provider, and photographer. I'm really glad we did it that way because I won't lie- there have been days since where I've just lain there, listlessly wondering if we shouldn't have organized something simpler, an elegant walk into traffic, perhaps.

I can admit we are not "wedding people". I have had no dreams of bridal dresses and fancy meals and first dances, not even when I was little, not even when I've been in love. So when it came time to make decisions, there was no master scrapbook Pinterest board I could instantly turn to, Originally, we'd assumed we'd have an incredibly simple affair- just some close friends and family, a delicious meal at a beloved restaurant and a city hall ceremony. But then TB wanted to invite family from out west and I kind of frowned at the idea of inviting folks to come all this way for a quick "I do" and a lunch. This wedding is, after all, a bit of a goodbye party, a one and only chance to get many of our favourite people in one place. The least we could do is give them a free drink or 8.

And so it ballooned - oh, let's say "blossomed" it sounds so much nicer- piece by piece into this party for 80, a fully catered event with DJs and flowers and a photobooth and burlap and mason jars and I don't even care if those last two jumped the shark in 2013, i fucking love the work we've put into our decor. All told, it's way past what I thought we'd spend but still manageable and, against all odds, even with the spectre of grief demanding its invite to the festivities, I am so excited.

I'm excited to share the dozen of things we've worked on - the ceremony we're writing ourselves, the photos we've printed, the outfits we've picked plus a bunch of other stupid little things that make us laugh- and watch people's reactions. I'm excited to watch people who have no shared connection but us talking and laughing together. I'm so damn excited for the barbecue meal. And, cheesy as it is, I'm excited to stand up in front of those I hold dear and say "with all the uncertainty that lies ahead, We still choose us."

Now, let's hope the remaining etsy orders come in...

The Grieving Girl's Guide to Life

About 5 years ago, the guy I was replacing at work had a hell of a year. He had fallen in love the year before with a co-worker in his language classes and had just proposed to her. Shortly after the ring was on her finger, she became pregnant. They sold their condos, bought a big house in the country, bought a car, had a wedding, had a kid, then found out they were going to have to move to India in a few months.

"You know," I remarked, "you can space out this adulting thing. You don't have to do it all at once."

"I know," he chuckled, “But sometimes all the adulting just happens at the same time."

Truth.

To catch up:

When my mom died last December it was one of those things where when people ask “was it unexpected? Was it sudden?” my only answer was “kind of? But also not?” Basically, what I could say was “Five days in the hospital and she was gone”.

And that's that. It was, and continues to be, the hardest thing I’ve ever gone through, but life kept going, almost immediately. Two weeks after she died, I found out I got a job in the U.S. and would have to move in 2016. Two weeks after that, my maternal grandfather died. Two months after that, I found out that getting a visa for TB to work in the U.S. would be superfun! (note: it would actually be the opposite of superfun) and it would be  much easier if we just got married. But he insisted that he wanted to ask me, so I agreed. And on June 30th, under a sky full of stars, TB proposed to me with a story worthy of any Simpsons fan (more on that in a later entry)

Since that moment I've been running. In order to keep my upcoming job I have to become fluent in Spanish before next summer, which, when you're starting with a half-level above "dos cervezas, por favor" is a challenge, to say the least. The second half of 2015 has been full of getting my grandfather’s house ready to sell, planning a wedding, and conjugating verbs like it's my job (it is).

In 2016, language gods willing, I'll pack up my house, rent it to someone who won't destroy it,  find and rent a house in the U.S, and start a new job, all while grieving the two best people I ever knew.
I have no idea how I’m going to do it all, or if it’s even possible.

But adulting doesn’t wait until you’re ready – it just happens and expects you to catch up.

Thanks for running with me.


*Adapted from an earlier post on Offbeat Bride's forum before they closed in November 2015