I knew I would cry.
That would not be the surprise of Wedding Week
It was the moments the tears decided to come. As if they had an agenda of their own.
On the Wednesday before the big weekend, with the worry of a Nor’easter pounding down upon us, my daughter told me she was getting a manicure just a few blocks from where I was having coffee. I hurried through a humid Manhattan to find her at the salon, feet soaking in a tub, Kindle in her hand.
I collapsed into tears.
I don’t know why.
I walked back around the corner of the spa to a space where I could compose myself.
When I re-appeared she asked: “Were you crying? Already?”
Twelve years earlier we took our first to college and I was walking behind Jill and the three kids on our way to dinner. And the same thing happened. I melted, unaware of what set me off. The Sushi menu? The color of the brick building we were passing?
What about a pedicure makes a man cry?
I’ve paid for plenty of them, but never actually received a mani or pedi. The foot thing grosses me out. But I sat with her getting a manicure and a chair massage. It didn’t suck.
Then Thursday night we were having a family dinner with just our side and the groom’s side. My wife, who usually chooses to leave the public speaking to me, wanted to say a few words about Jessie.
My only job was to hold the phone flashlight so she could read.
She began: “We always knew…”
And the crying shook my hand so much I was relegated to the bench, and my son came in to relieve me as flashlight holder.
Friday was fairly smooth with activities and I could focus on Plan B in case the expected storm hit.
Then the big day came.
I felt a little shaky all day, but when we were called in to see Jessie for a “first look”, it was an unbearable, but appropriate time to cry.
And then that night we signed the Ketubah, lined up for our walk and everyone started falling in line according to their mark. I had been warned by my daughter not to cry walking her down the aisle because that is the money shot and you don’t want pictures of your “ugly-crying” face.
We stood at the water’s edge. The music stopped. We stepped forward and the Cantor started to sing.
We waited for everyone to stand and in that moment the emotion rushed to my face. I leaned over and pulled the sacks of my eyes down to absorb any remaining tears. I stood upright, smiled, looked forward and walked my girl to her groom.
I’d heard from others that by the time the ceremony comes around you’re all cried out.
Sorta…not true.
