The Father of the Bride

Now Lexie and her father are two peas in a pod.

Lexie and I have a wonderful relationship. We have a lot in common. We’re both creative, we’re both women, and of course we’re mother and daughter. We like many of the same things and can often read each other’s minds. That’s not to say we don’t occasionally exasperate one another, because we certainly do.

But Lexie and my husband Mike? That’s a whole different story.

Their personalities are remarkably similar. They understand each other on a level that sometimes leaves the rest of us watching from the sidelines. In much the same way, my son Andrew and I share an emotional wavelength. We don’t necessarily have the same interests, but somehow we’re often feeling the same things.  It’s interesting how families work that way.

This summer, Mike will be the quintessential father of the bride.  He’s already been asking whether he can wear one of his old suits to the wedding.  The answer, of course, has been a unanimous no.  Naturally, this brings to mind Father of the Bride, where Steve Martin squeezes himself into an old suit, only to split it dramatically while parading around the house. Every time Mike mentions one of his ancient suits, that’s the scene that flashes into my mind.  However,  he found a decent suit sitting in the basement that still fits because Mike has amazingly kept his girlish figure over all the years and its been bride approved.

Just as he has gone above and beyond over the years to help Lexie build her floral business—surrendering our garage and occasionally half the house in the process—he’ll spend much of this summer building props and structures for the wedding. Everyone seems to have a role. Mine involves sewing things and  feeding people.  Lexie and Red are hosting a family dinner as part of the wedding weekend, so I’ll be organizing food, negotiating with caterers, baking pies and butter tarts, and making sure everyone is well supplied with comfort and calories.  I’ll also be sewing tablecloths, backdrops, umbrella covers, and whatever other decorative items are required to transform a patch of forest into a wedding venue.

Most likely, I’ll also be helping with her wedding dress.  Holding things up and pinning things. She is designing it herself and has her own ideas so I will just be the sous seamstress.  At the moment,  the fabric is sitting under the sewing table all 15 meters intact. Yikes.

The funny thing is that Lexie knows this industry inside and out. As a floral designer, she’s immersed in the wedding world every day. She knows the planners, the florists, the photographers, the venues, and all the moving parts that most brides never see. She has a very clear vision for her wedding.  Through friendships, favours, and a little strategic bartering, she’s gathered an impressive team of people who will help bring that vision to life.

And so I sit here in my favourite chair—my reading chair, praying chair, contemplating-life chair, and occasionally my staring-out-the-window chair—and I imagine how it will all come together.

More than anything, I want this wedding weekend to feel like the vision she carries in her heart.

As the RSVPs arrive and the date draws nearer, the reality of it all is beginning to settle in. This isn’t simply a wedding. It’s a celebration of a marriage that has already begun.  And somehow that makes it feel even more meaningful.