Image via Lonny Mag
Tomorrow, my big sister will get married. I will stand next to her at the front of the church, and either fight back tears or grin like a fool (it remains to be seen which recourse I’ll take, perhaps I’ll do both) while she and her husband-to-be say their vows. At the reception, I’ll sit at her table and laugh while our family and friends attempt to embarrass her with their speeches. And I’ll be there while we all dance into the night, to the sounds of the live band.
But supporting my sister on her wedding day is only a small part of what I’ve done in regards to this celebration over the past 16 months. I’ve helped plan every last detail of this day, from the music and the food to the decor and the outfits of everyone involved.
I’ve spent hours in face-to-face conversation, on the phone, in front of my computer, and at my sewing machine. I’ve designed paper goods, consulted on bouquets, sourced vintage vases and agonized over menu choices. I’ve sewn 150 metres of Liberty-print bunting, 13 table runners and one silk tulle and lace veil. I’ve DIY’d and researched and discussed until I was blue in the face.
And now, the time is finally here.
A few weeks ago, while working on some wedding task or another, I had a revelation. I sat back, thought about the past 16 months and all the work they’ve required, and said to myself “This is my wedding”.
Don’t get me wrong– I don’t mean that I want to be the centre of attention (no one will be capable of looking at anyone but the bride once my beautiful sister enters the church in her drop-dead wedding gown, anyway), and I’m well aware that the pressure I’ve been under to make this day a success pales in comparison to the anxiety my sister must have felt. I only mean that having been there for the entire process, having planned and designed and crafted and fretted and hoped, I feel as invested in the success of this day as the couple themselves. In addition, I have little desire to ever do this again.
For a lot of girls like me, nearing 30 and seeing our friends begin to get engaged, get married and start “grown-up” lives, marriage is a goal. Or rather, having a wedding is a goal. And who can blame us- doesn’t the opportunity to spend a month’s rent on a pretty dress and have a day when everyone celebrates you sound like fun? To my discredit, I’ve thought along these lines in the past, but I’m happy to say that helping to plan my sister’s wedding has cured me – in the best possible way – of actively wanting this for myself. Heck, if I ever decide to get married, I may just pull a Jess Lively and elope instead.
But for now, I’m going to focus on enjoying tomorrow to the best of my abilities.
To Hilary and Edward, I wish you two all the happiness in the world. And I really, really wish that it doesn’t rain.