And can I just interject that "man of your dreams" is a silly term? I understand the gist of it as a metaphor, but taken literally, it just sets men-and women-up for failure. I am sure I have qualities that Drew did NOT dream his wife would have (to name just a few, my grogginess and crazy hair in the mornings, my tendency to ramble and ramble and then say you weren't really listening were you, and my back seat driving.)
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| obviously Drew is a very brave man. |
Drew is the most amazing husband and I knew he was "it" very early when we were dating, but saying he's the man of my dreams almost implies he's not real. And really, if he were from my dreams, things might be different. For starters, I'm a die hard Memorial Mustang. Homeboy went to Stratford (our rival.) Secondly, I always thought I'd marry someone who was an incredible two-stepper, just shy of professional status, and he'd twirl me and dip me all around the dancefloor. Homeboy can hardly find the 2-step beat and most of the time I'm the one leading. And thirdly, he doesn't love to read. What a weirdo! But in all seriousness, Drew and I are "right" for each other in all kinds of ways and he still gives me butterflies and makes me giddy and all that jazz. However, calling him "the man of my dreams" just makes me think I'm sending a message to single gals out there that the Mr. Right is going to check all these check-boxes you've made in your head. That's not how it works.
So back to my original thought...
There are far worse things than getting married to an incredible man and having your wedding day without your sweet dad there.
My mom and our friends have been a beacon of hope in the days, months, and years following Dad's accident. Watching our wedding video on our third anniversary, it hit me looking back, that it was really strange and hard without my dad there, but the day was such a blast, so joyful, so much about a new covenant and moving forward as me and Drew.
(That video, by the way, is something that I insisted was an unnecessary expense and my mom said tough, I want the wedding videoed, and your dad and I are paying. She was right, having a video has been awesome!)
Occasionally I'm overwhelmed with sadness that my dad is not here with us, and other times I get so angry I could just knock out a wall with my fists. But, the majority of moments I am able to remember Dad with such joy, and I have such awe that he was our dad, that we had it so good while we had him. I have such love in me because he and my mom loved us so well.
My dad lived life at 100 miles per hour - he loved big, he dreamed big, he hoped big. (and all while being a fairly petite little guy, but don't tell him that.)
I will forever be grateful to the minister who married us, Richard Colquitt, and his wife Susan, for all they did for us to make our wedding spectacular. God - and my dad- felt so close throughout the day and the ceremony. I felt covered in prayer. Susan and a team helped my mom transform the church into this wonderland of candles and flowers that I was not even expecting. In lieu of a bridal lunch, my friends and I got together at the McClellan's house, where my dad had been doing "Dads workout" on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Saturdays for years. It felt like he had just been there, and that may sound funny, but it was incredibly comforting to me as we stretched after a neighborhood walk on the McClellans yoga mats.
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| So fun looking back through bridals and remembering that fun afternoon at Union Station! |
The music at the church was amazing and honestly people still mention how beautiful it was- Lunden McGill kicked it out of the park and into the nickel seats (our reception was at the home of the Houston Astros, you can't expect me to NOT use a baseball analogy, can you?) Drew and I, with Richard's guidance, wanted it to feel like you had been to a worship service, and it truly did.
Richard kept us focused on the present: on joy, on God, on our covenant with the lord entering marriage. I felt nothing but peace, just three months after my dad died unexpectedly in a plane crash. If that's not a testament to the Lord's strength in those around us, I don't know what is.
We worshiped and we celebrated and we did just what we would have done if my dad had been there. My mom assured us over and over, this is what your dad would want. We had made the guest list and booked the venue when he was still alive, we had rolled our eyes at the cake fee, we had all given the dress a "yes!" It was very comforting the night of our wedding to know that my dad had been so much a part of the planning.
When we visited Union Station, Dad told me how he really wanted a "candy table" and I told him how those are kind of overdone and not really "cool" anymore. His response: "This is for me. We're having a candy table so I can go grab a handful of candy whenever I want." And we did, we framed a picture of me and Pops and we put it out on the candy table, and people grabbed handfuls of candy whenever they wanted. It was perfect.
My great-grandfather gave me away, at age 96, and not many brides can say they had FOUR healthy generations at their wedding. I'm incredibly blessed.
When I called Papa at his home in Dallas to ask him about it, after he agreed to walk me down the aisle on December 31, I vividly remember saying "I think Dear (my great-grandmother, his wife of 74 years) and Dad will be very proud of us." He paused and said: "Well they damned sure ought to be!" This from a man I seldom heard curse or raise his voice, especially in front of a lady. He let me know through his response that he was missing them both so much, that this was hard for him too, and that we would do this together. I felt so assured and comforted. Grace. God gives us free will and bad things happen to "good people" like plane crashes, but He is there the whole time, to comfort us, love us, pull us in to him. It puts knots in my stomach to admit it, but God was so glorified through Dad's accident, and the way my mom handled it afterwards, and the way others stepped in and showed us that God was there.
He calls us to be his hands and feet. The people who came to our wedding and smiled instead of cried, danced instead of sat down in a heap of sadness, they kept me strong and joyful, just as a bride should be when she's marrying a man of such character, faith, and love as Drew Prochaska. I did nothing to deserve a man of such patience, so much joy, always optimistic and fun, who reminds us in many ways of Dad. There it is, grace.
Rev. RPC gave us a definition of love during our premarital counseling. I heard it again yesterday watching our wedding video with fresh ears:
Love is willing self sacrifice, for the good of the other, without expectation of reciprocation, without regard for whether the other deserves to be loved.
I woke up three years ago today for the first time as a "married woman," having made a covenant to God to love this man more than myself. Some days I'm better at that than others. But after a thousand days waking up Drew's wife, I feel as if I know more of God, more of grace, more of love, more of perseverance, than I did before. He still loves to hold my hand and he kisses me goodnight each night and he drags me out of bed for church when I don't feel like going.
For what more could I ask?
Actually, I have so many questions. Why couldn't Jay beat cancer? Why couldn't dads engine just do what it's supposed to? Why why why why why.
But when I lock eyes with Drew, when he puts his forehead on mine when I can't hold back tears any longer, when I watch him hold our baby boy, when I sing Amazing Grace or Silent Night, I know. God is still here, He is still good, and though our hearts still hurt, He provides healing. I'll always have unanswered questions, but I know this...
My cup runneth over.
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