The Wedding Of His Dreams

Happy moment from my 2004 Wedding.

It was the night before my wedding in Jamaica, in the church where the ceremony would be held the next day, the wedding party, pastor and decorator were all up in arms over a thousand different things. Which door would the bridesmaids walk through, was there enough time to change the decorations from balloons’ to fresh flowers, the list of hassles went on.  A few times throughout the night I stepped back to wonder how I had gotten roped into this, not the marriage but the wedding, it just seemed like an expensive, time-consuming farce.  I was having cold feet, specifically about the wedding red-tape.  If I plan an event, it has be uncomplicated, life is crazy enough as it is, to invite more problems makes no sense to me.  But what could I do, guests were on the way from all over Jamaica, some were even coming from the States, my maid of honor had come all the way from England.  This thing was going down, full of complexities, with our without my full enthusiasm.  When my husband proposed to me I immediately counter-proposed that we elope, the thought was absolutely thrilling to me but not to my fiancée Rohan, he was appalled and offended and wondered out loud what his family would say about that idea.  He spent the next few months talking me into the wedding of his dreams, finally I realized even though I had never dreamed of a wedding, he had, it wasn’t right for me to deny him its fulfillment, so we went full steam ahead.  My biggest fear about the wedding was that it would be obvious that we were operating on a shoe-string budget but I need not have worried, things worked out, friends and family helped and everything turned out more beautiful than I could have imagined with one exception, the cake was a hot, tacky mess but I was the only person bothered by it.

The morning of the big day my maid of honor and I found ourselves at the printers, rushing to get the wedding programs done.  Panic was setting in as the time flew by.  By the time I got back to the hotel, showered, did my hair, put on make-up and finally my gown I was almost an hour late for the church.  Thank God my maid of honor Nike was keeping things light-hearted and reminding me that everything was ok.  I had asked my mom to give me away but at the last minute she suggested I ask my brother and uncle to each walk me half way as they are two of the few men in my life.  By the time I was walking down the aisle with my brother he was whispering to me that our dad should have been the one giving me away, if I really had a dad who cared about me that might have been a touching moment but I felt I was better off not having that stranger at this intimate affair.  The service was long, Pentecostal style, exactly the opposite of  what I had discussed with the pastor, but it was pretty, the guests were attentive and emotional and later that day my husband and I and the wedding party walked into the open air reception at the water’s edge in Montego Bay, just as the sun was setting.  My aunt and the decorator had set back up the arch from the church, its ribbons were floating imperceptibly in the warm, salty breeze.  I peeked at my husband, he was smiling from ear to ear and everything, all the drama was worth it.

As the night went on, various things went wrong but no one knew, I heard over and over again how beautiful a wedding it was.  After the speeches relatives kept teasing me that they never knew I had it in me to either get married or to talk with such ease in front of a group.

Two years later the marriage was over, I found out about his multiple infidelities in one day,  it was crushing but I never regretted the marriage, just the way it ended.  For the first time in my life I had followed my heart and it led me to this short marriage that was only meant to exist for a season.  The lessons that came from that experience are many and profound: how to love, how to share, how to lose with grace, how not to lose yourself in the fray, how to hold the special memories apart from the ugly ones and how to be strong when you know you’re right. New Years of 2006 was the last time I saw my husband.  I channeled my anger into going back to University at the age of 39, and graduated from the fashion design course with honors.  I silently thanked my husband for giving me that push and sometimes even imagined him being married again; having babies and hoping that he had learned something from what happened between us.

In late October of 2009 found out that Rohan had been killed almost a year prior, after the shock wore off the first thing I thought was that at least he had had the wedding of his dreams and thank God I had been there to witness it.

When I was planning my wedding I didn’t invite my father, it was deliberate but not vindictive, I just don’t know him very well nor do I think very highly of what I do know of him.  It was more and issue of quality control than anything else, him being an unknown quantity whose presence could possibly ruin the event.  Looking back I still think it was the right thing to do.  In thinking about how much I’m willing to give away for the comfort of others as opposed to my own, I never have that dilemma when it comes on to my father, I’m clear that I must put myself before him to protect myself from his immense selfishness.  Having said that, it was still a surprise to learn that after hearing about my wedding from his older brother and being asked by the same if he was going to attend, my father was crushed to learn that not only was I getting married without his knowledge, but I had no intention of inviting him and it was not an oversight.

In the end I understand that I had the strength to leave my husband when I found out about his infidelities because my whole life I have never wanted to end up with a cheater like my father, so I guess I should silently thank my dad for that.