My Daddy



My daddy and our dog Tag-A-Long



My father was 58 when I was born.  Even though he never seemed any different than the other dads, I was always aware he was older.  The downside of an older parent is knowing they might not always be around.  I grew up with the awareness that my dad wouldn't be around forever.  I always understood there was a significant chance that unless I married young, my father wouldn't be around to walk me down the aisle.  And given that I come from a long, proud line of late-marrying ladies (not to mention my penchant for dating less than fabulous guys in my formative years), marrying young was not likely.  Because I was aware of my father's age and mortality, I was at least somewhat prepared for the eventuality that he might not be alive on my wedding day.  The downside of an older parent was also an upside because I did not have the struggle, sadness, and challenge of someone who loses a parent unexpectedly, having never given such a reality any prior thought.  I have friends who have had that experience and my heart breaks for them.  For me, getting to have my dad around until 27 - to see me graduate from college, start my career, begin graduate school - was more than I had hoped for.  I felt lucky to have him for as long as I did.  

But as prepared as I may have been intellectually for a wedding without a father the reality still completely and utterly... well... sucked.  I'm not typically a very emotional person but nothing turns on the waterworks like a girl without her daddy on her wedding day.  And my skin did not thicken to it.  After planning a wedding for ten months, it was all i could do when - two months before the big day - our band leader asked us what song we'd like for the father/daughter dance.  I held it together while I explained there wouldn't be one, that my father had passed away, but then lost it as soon as we hung up the phone.  

And so, we decided to skip the father-daughter dance.  And I asked my mother to walk me down the aisle.  It has been just the two of us for five years.  And I decided I didn't need some male relative - even though I have great ones - stepping in to walk me down the aisle.  My mama and I would be just fine together.  We included language in the program to honor my daddy but I wanted something more.  I needed another way to have him with me on that day.  And so I began to think.  And after a great deal of thought, I came up with the beginnings of a plan.  My father was a printer - a great printer.  And some of my fondest memories of my father from my childhood are of him working.  I can see him bent over our dining room table (which gets great natural light) intently examining a print with his loop.  I used to love going with my father to the printing presses.  There were two in the shop, which I had named Big Bird and Snuffleupagus (Snuffy).  The smell of printer's ink can quickly bring these memories flooding back.  And so, we decided to subtly incorporate some printing materials into our decorations.  We went to Eastern Market - the best outdoor market in DC - and found exactly what we were looking for: movable type and a type tray.  We bought about $100 worth of "R"s and "K"s and one type tray.  The letters would go on each table and we'd find a use for the tray.  We eventually decided to use the tray to display the mini boxes of altoids we had purchased for everyone (more on the altoids later).  I loved this stuff but knew it wasn't quite enough.  It was reminiscent of my father but I wanted something more.

One evening I was watching one of countless bridal/wedding shows that I had become addicted to over the year of our engagement.  It was one of those makeover type shows where they don't just find the girl the dress of her dreams but also the veil, makeup, and perfect hair style.  And typically these women had some sort of heartfelt story to boot.  For one woman, it was a father who had passed away.  Her father had served in the military so the industrious makeover king found one of her father's epaulets and wrapped it around her bouquet.  It was a perfect idea.  I loved it.  The only problem was i had no idea where my father's epaulets from his days in the Navy were.  We do have his medals though so I thought about using those.  But somehow that wasn't quite right either.  My father was in the Navy but it didn't define him.  Finally, it came to me.  His watch.   My father had a beautiful gold watch that I vividly remember him wearing for years which my mother kept in her jewelry box.  And so, with a few pins and a clear hair band, on my wedding day we fastened the watch around my bouquet.  It was perfect.  It was beautiful but subtle.  I could hold it as I walked down the aisle, like my daddy was holding my hand.  It was the perfect way to honor him in a way that made him feel close but wasn't too overt.

 Long ago, when I'd ask my mother about the decision to marry a man more than twenty years her senior, she'd always respond the same way.  She said she'd rather have 30 great years with a man she loved with all her heart than 50 mediocre years with a man her age.  Now, a married lady myself, this makes all the sense in the world and I couldn't be luckier that she followed her heart.  I, too, would rather have 27 great years with my wonderful daddy than 50 with anyone else, even if it meant walking down the aisle with his memory rather than the man himself.