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Driving towards Vermont a few weeks ago, the skies that day looked smokey from the vast fires in Canada. It was an ominous sign.
Would the smoke affect my daughter’s wedding in the state two days later? What the hell? Why smoke now, this weekend that has been planned for over a year?
On the wedding day, the bridesmaids, groomsmen, bride, and groom rode a van up to a mountain near the wedding venue to take some photos. It went well for a while, but then the drizzle began. Would the sprawling and immaculate dress of my daughter, the bride, get wet? Can’t happen. Not the bride. Not today.
Why is it raining? Why now?
They rushed her and the bridesmaids back into the van while the eight groomsmen and myself were left stranded on the mountain as the rain pace intensified.
We all found unsatisfactory cover under trees and overhanging roofs of some random shack.
Holding umbrellas. All of us.
The sleeves of our freshly dry-cleaned, tailored, and new navy blue suits got wet. I stood not more than two feet from the groom, who would become my son-in-law in just a few hours, as he calmly waited for the van to rescue us men from the downpour. He seemed more even-tempered than me and I admired his poise.
But I felt anxious for the groom. What if his brand new suit got soaked and he had to wear that through the ceremony and the entire dinner and dancing session? How uncomfortable? Why now?
The smoke, the rain, it was all conspiring against us.
For the next two hours, the wedding organizers studied their smartphone weather maps trying to figure out if we should hold the ceremony outside The white chairs lined up outside were getting soaked. How could anyone want to sit on a wet chair during a wedding?
Move the ceremony inside? Keep it outside? We heard a dry patch in the weather was coming before the next patch of rain so decided to risk having the event outside. Squeeze in a marriage between clouds on a hotel back lawn overlooking the verdant Vermont mountains.
Outside, on this day, it would be — hopefully rain free.
Bridesmaids and groomsmen started pairing up and walking down the 100-foot lawn at the end of which stood all of friends and family watching.
The last pair to go through the door, as is traditional, was my daughter and me. It was at this moment it all hit me.
I was there with the bride because I wasn’t just some guy or another member of the wedding party. I was the father of the bride.
I heard this soft, touching, and emotional song by Adele played and I will never forget how beautiful it sounded. Of course, my daughter, the bride, chose it because she has classy taste:
And I will never forget all those people staring at us from 200 feet away, feeling they were the people my daughter and I loved and always will. And I will never forget the sun piercing through the clouds.
The sun. Yes, the sun.
Through the clouds.
Right then.
It was as if the sun, familiar with the power of a metaphor, had been waiting all day to arrive at this moment when the bride came through the door onto that lawn and everyone got to see her walk down the aisle.
It was at this moment that it all hit me what was actually taking place, my daughter was getting married, moving to the next huge chapter of her life.
I was giving her away.
Throughout the months of preparation leading to this moment, I hadn’t fully conceptualized what this wedding was going to be about. It was more of an abstraction, with more details, and packing and getting the invitations out. More logistics, less emotional reflection.
Then this moment flooded my consciousness. Me on her right, her so beautiful. Me escorting her down that green lawn, her life about to change forever.
Her no longer my little baby girl. Her no longer a basketball player and swimmer and grade school student. Her no longer in high school and going to the prom. Her no longer in college. Her no longer just out of college looking for a job trying to figure out a career path.
Her no longer a child.
Her a woman, in seconds about to be married to a man for the rest of her life.
Me no longer a young man.
The sun kept shining. The couple said their vows as I sat with my wife to whom I’ve been married for nearly 35 years. It felt somehow unreal as if it couldn’t be happening though it was. It felt like my life was moving along. It felt elusive but in a nice way.
It felt like I had done something with my life having raised this impressive and gorgeous young lady. It felt humbling because I knew it was mostly her that has been so impressive. I had been along for the ride watching her dazzle her whole life.
They said their vows.
I sensed everyone there was moved by the reciting of vows, looking outward towards the incomparably striking Vermont mountains, highlighted by the sun.
Finished, the bride and groom walked back down the aisle hand in hand.
What had I just witnessed?
My daughter got married.
I then started hugging friends and family. It was the day she wanted and the great husband she wanted.
It was the setting she wanted.
It was pure joy.
It was beyond description.
It was something I don’t know how to capture in words other than to say it was perfect.
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Sammy Sportface, a sports blogger, galvanizes, inspires, and amuses The Baby Boomer Brotherhood. And you can learn about his vision and join this group's Facebook page here:
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About the Author
Nice job, Sammy. We’re all along for the ride and need to make the best of it.