What makes me feel better? Buying things.
This is how I found myself in Michael's craft store, on my lunch break the other day, tears streaming hot and relentless down my face, in front of the scrapbook wedding stickers.
Damn it, I want to buy my girl a wedding dress, too! Not fair! Not fair!!
Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know I still have Jake, and he may get married someday, assuming he doesn't die, too. But, it's not the same! It will never be the same for the following obvious reasons: he is not a girl, he is not my firstborn, he was not my child while I was still essentially a child myself (which ideal or not creates an undeniable bond), he will not wear a dress, he will not want my help with his hair.
When Cory was little, I always got to tie the sash of her dresses, and make the bow even. I wanted to tie her sash...or button her buttons...something.
I wanted to fuss over my adult child's hair one last time before a major public event- and let me tell you, I didn't expect that last time to be while she laid in her casket. Oh, my fricking heart.
I wanted to spin her around a bit and watch her dress flair out, laughing and misty eyed to tell her she was the most beautiful bride I'd ever seen. I wanted it to hurt to see her looking so grown up. I wanted my voice to shake as I told her I loved her 100 baker dollars.
People plan weddings and I go pull weeds at her plot. I will never understand it.
I carried my little sticker wedding gown up to the counter and ponied up two dollars and ninety nine cents, knowing it wasn't exactly her style, but the best from what I had to choose from. I could feel my heart in my throat and I took it out to my car to moon over in private, angry and heartbroken by turns.
Never did I expect things to turn out this way. This deafening silence. This bitter envy. Nary a skirt twirl in sight.
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