I am not like other brides. I did not get cold feet or the jitters. I did not cry as I took my vows, my voice trembling and weak. I did not stress out at making arrangements or micromanage my bridesmaids. I did not get so caught up in the machine of a well-planned day that I lost sight for even a moment of just what day this was. I did not even have a twinge of regret as I expected at the loss of my single life. Even though it was long, it was good, that single life, my “before,” and I expected to feel the loss of it. But that was just one more way I was not like other brides.
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I had always wanted, for my wedding day, to be filled with a pervasive, unrelenting awareness, a sense of appreciation so clear that each moment of that day would be crystallized into memory for the duration of my life. I would be different, I said, than all the other women who lost sight of what that day truly was in the onslaught of lace and programs and invitations and flowers and expectations and damage control and seating arrangements and torn hemlines.
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I just let go. All my life, I struggled against letting go, even as I longed to do so. I let go of anxiety and planning and questions. I just focused on how I wanted my day to go and released it. And the man who finally showed me how to let go stood at the end of the aisle, bursting with joy and pride. He taught me how to let go when he swept me off my feet and I had nothing left to hold onto except him. And my wedding day was marked indelibly like a magic marker scribbled all over a blank wall with the unshakeable certainty that I was home. I chose the right path. I ran the race and here was my first finish line.
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And I think the moment I felt that knowledge and peace the strongest was that first sight of him as I walked down the aisle. I had gone all day without seeing him and it hit me harder than I thought it would. I had gone my whole life without seeing him; what was one brief day? But through all the surreal excitement was the most prosaic thought of just, “I miss him. When will it be time to see him again?” So when I started down that aisle, my eyes sought him out immediately, thinking only of being so happy to see him, and I was struck, so powerfully my feet almost lost their steady rhythm, by what I saw on his face. My heart spluttered as I took in the look of absolute joy and focus on my face. He didn’t look nervous, he didn’t look away. There truly seemed to be no one in the room except the two of us. I have never seen such a naked love as I saw on his face in that moment; I wasn’t prepared to see it to quite that degree, even after all these weeks and months slowly coming to believe in what he kept telling and showing me – that he truly loved me.
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And as I finally reached him, slipping my small hand into his warm one, my heart beat strongly and steadily and I truly knew what this day was. This was the day a man as utterly sublime as this looked on me and before God and the world, declared to all in existence that I was the thing he wanted most. His face showed that more even than the words he spoke. He was saying he wanted nothing more than to tie his life and well-being and future to mine. He stood there, so close I could feel his heat, the strong, sure touch of his hand, and laid his name over me like a cloak, a mantle of belonging and protection. This was the day that begins a new life of being seen, of being someone’s only love, of being someone’s most cherished treasure. I matter to someone. I will always matter to this man. This was the day he declared that he would be here, that he would let me love him, that he would need me to be there, to see him and listen and care for him. It was really a wonder I could hit my vows on cue with all this blindingly bright awareness filling my brain to capacity.
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All of my stereotypes about men have been shattered by this one. And I have come to truly accept that a man can love me as well, as passionately, as I can love him. I never have to hide my desire for him, my single-minded focus on loving him. I never have to throw a casual light on the raw need, even as I hold to the solitude I often need. And through it all is a natural balance that suffuses us. No choke-hold to be found, nor any cold distance. We were meant to be together. Whatever the psychologists may claim, we complete each other. If you truly complete yourself, if you are complete in yourself with no need of anyone in your core, then what is to become of you? Where do you go if you don’t need to go anywhere? I need him. And it is so sweet to be needed just as much, just as unapologetically. If any psychologist was looked at the way he looks at me, like he can’t decide if he wants to devour me or protect me, they would take their notes and research and burn them.
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I am recklessly happy and after a lifetime of moderation, of sensible living, it feels so glorious to let go, to be swept up, to be in love, to leap and have no thought of where you’ll land and have no anxiety about it because you know who will catch you. I’m flying so high I’m light-headed and yet my feet are firmly planted in the conviction that this is where I am meant to be. My past has almost single-mindedly led me to this, my greatest desire. Let the world be stunned by the purity of our love. Let all who see it be inspired to reach for the same heedless heights. Let the two of us come together like supernovas to explode into one endless galaxy. All the clichés are true. Count on it. They are all true. I cannot contain them. My body burns from the light of his love, streaming out through my very skin. I am loved. I am loved more than anything.
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