Three Days & A Wedding Dress

Three days before my mother died I was in a boutique picking up my wedding dress. The dress she helped me pick out just a month before. Back when she was walking around, healthy and happy. I never would have imagined that I’d be picking it up, alone. Even worse, that she’d never again get to see me in it. 

Three days before my mother died she wasn’t well enough to venture to the bridal boutique, but she also wasn’t sick enough to be dying. Or so I thought. I had no idea that her missing that trip would mean things far worse than my brain could comprehend. I was still full of hope and dreams and wishes. All things that included my mother. She still had a lot of living left to do. 

I was tearful and emotional heading into the store that day. To comfort my sadness I concentrated on the fact that she may not be well enough to attend my final fitting, but in two months she’d be watching as I wore that dress on my big day. 

I looked to the future to find comfort. But the future came, and my mother wasn’t in it. 

Three days after picking up that wedding dress, she passed. 

Gone, just like that. Stolen from my future. 

The dress we had picked out together, just months before, would be a special outfit that she’d never again see me in. She’d never see the smile on my face and the tears in my eyes as I walked down the aisle to marry the man of my dreams. She’d never see me wearing the veil she insisted we purchase to go along with the dress she thought was perfect for me. She’d never see me walk into my future, arm in arm with my father, as I set out to become someone’s wife. 

She’d never see me on my wedding day. 

I never could have imagined that vision, but suddenly it became my reality. 

Three days and a wedding dress and my entire world changed.

xox, Chels