I was never very marriage minded growing up. I didn’t delight in fantasy over magazine clippings of wedding dressings and cakes and decorations – dreaming of the day I’d meet the prince charming they’d fit around. It’s just not something I spent much time thinking about, save for a moment.
If I pictured my wedding, I couldn’t tell you where it would be, how I would look or who the guy standing at the end of the aisle would be – but I could tell you I’ve thought a lot about the guy standing at the start of it. I’ve envisioned that moment – when dad would see me for the last time as his little girl, and slip his arm tightly around mine to give me away. I wondered if he’d cry, what he’d say, how it would feel. And later, when vows were pronounced and champagne was drank, taking to the dance floor to twirl around in the safety of my father’s arms.
There are a lot of beautiful songs out there, but I always loved “Stand By Me” and thought maybe that would be the song we would dance to. I loved it for its simplicity and for saying the only thing that really needs to be said – that I’m here for you, no matter what. That’s who dad was to me after all – someone who was an unwavering source of strength and comfort.
As a daughter, there are a few defining moments you have with your father – and honestly, it’s hard not to feel robbed of this very important one.
The other weekend, I went to my first wedding since losing dad with my mom and brother in tow. We celebrated with neighbors that have become friends and had a wonderful time. But when they announced the father, daughter dance I felt my chest tighten, watching from the side. I took a deep breath and tried to smile as I thought about what a beautiful bond that is between dads and their little girls, and how lucky I am to have as strong of one as I did. But it was hard.
Next to me however, was my brother. Another man who has been a guiding influence in my life. One who has watched over me for years, and who one day may have to fill some very important shoes. He already has.
You see – the moment we lost dad, I folded over in a breathless shriek. I caught myself against the back of a chair as I felt the agony crack open from deep inside. But then a pair of strong arms scooped me up and hugged me close, turning me away. It was my brother, and he cradled his hand against the back of my head talking calmly into my ear. It was the most absolutely beautiful, selfless gesture, and it made me feel safe in that swirl of confusion and sorrow. How can someone be so strong in a moment like that, and put their own pain aside? Because he’s his father’s son – watchful, protective.
And because he, just like dad, is always standing by me.
A REKD GIRL 