Dear Mom

“Hi sweetie. How are you doing?” She asked me as I was sitting awaiting pictures to start. My big white dress flowed around me and she had to sit about 3 feet away so as not to wrinkle the satin. “I’m doing good, Mom. I’m getting married today!” I responded enthusiastically. “How are you?” She just responded with a smile and a “good”. We sat in the comfortable silence as things whirled around us.

One of the honest regrets I have about my wedding day is that I didn’t talk to her more.

At the reception, Mom greeted me and showed me the food spread of hor d’ouvres that far exceeded my expectations. Those pictures of us talking are the little proof I have that I actually spoke to her. I had worked so hard in the planning of our day delegating jobs to others so that she didn’t have to lift a finger… It was a good thing too because, unbeknownst to me, her foot decided to flare up and swell, but she was able to get up. To dance just once with my Dad. And her smile hid any pain she was experiencing. She was going to dance at her daughter’s wedding gosh-darn-it!

So wrapped up in becoming Mrs. Krupke, I even forgot to say goodbye to my parents as we got on the road to our honeymoon. When I called home to say goodbye officially, a friend picked up the phone and I heard commotion in the background. “What is going on?” I asked nervously. “We’re having a party!” she replied. After friends cleaned up our reception, my mother hosted roughly 30-40 people for an actual dinner. Disregarding foot pain. Too stubborn to admit it and greatly desiring to be a gracious hostess.