Thursday, May 28, 2015

Amy McBride


I was a 22 year-old bride. 

No father to walk me down the isle, instead I held the arm of my groom's friend. 

Most of the ceremony was insignificant; not my dream wedding. I did not have a dream of a wedding. 

Father of the bride is a big image. Tears come from Mother with pride. Fathers support the nervous bride. This is the symbol giving a daughter to a man who will love and take care of his daughter. My family adjusted without a father. This wedding could not be an adjustment.

I  can't remember why the wedding was so important. Was I in love? Possibility of a family? Possibility of a man wanting me?

I should have been shaking. I should have hesitated with the thought of eternal love. Marriage was a one time bond. I should have had a groom that took me as his family.

I lay here, in this box wondering. Bride in a white dress, candelabras flanking the pastors pulpet.  Maybe all the flowers in a wedding are significant. At the end of the Brides lifespan  she awaits between candelabras, flowers and a new stage of existence. Eternal life. 

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