The Mother of the Bride

Most of you know that my mother, Dale Jarrett, died three years ago. And most of you know how heartbreaking that was for me, and how I've struggled to recover from losing her. The last few years have been a slow and natural grieving process, one that I've undergone carefully, purposefully, sensing that my grief was like a broken bone and that, if I didn't set it right, it would cripple me for life. Gracefully, my wounds have been salved. I moved to a city I love. I got a sweet dog. And then, miraculously, I fell in love.

Mom and me when I was a little girl.

My life now is exactly the life of my dreams —only it's missing my beautiful mom. The past few years were full of a lot of painful emotions and sad truths, but none of them has been as difficult to grasp as this one: my mother won't be at my wedding. I can't help but agonize over how much she would love planning my wedding with me. How fun to pick out colors, decorations, and a dress. How special to introduce her to the man of my dreams. How good and sweet to feel her squeeze my hand on the big day. We spent so many of the lazy afternoons of my childhood daydreaming aloud about my wedding, I can hardly believe that now it's here and she's not.

It's been shocking, amidst all of the joy of our engagement, to discover these feelings of sadness juxtaposed with the excitement. But I'm not a novice at grief, and I know it will get better in time. I'm just trying to keep my head above water, to keep moving forward, and to remember all of the good. The good memories, the good life lessons, and the goodness of her.

Mom and me four years ago.

Luckily for me, this isn't hard. I'm surrounded by so many wonderful and loving people; it's easy to glimpse in them the kindness and warmth I so miss in my mother. My matron of honor was also the matron of honor at my parents' wedding, and being with her is full of cherished memories of being with Mom. My amazing and inspiring dad will be there to walk me down the aisle and to share a special dance — I think the first where I don't have to stand on his shoes. I know my best friends, my wonderful siblings, and Nate's incredibly loving family, too, will all make it such a special day, brimming full of love.

But still — I can't escape the fact my mom won't be there.

Nate, ever the wonderfully supportive partner, suggested we do something special during the ceremony in Mom's honor. I was thrilled at his suggestion, and, after a lot of brainstorming, decided a butterfly release would be the perfect tribute. Mom loved butterflies — and I think they loved her too. I've watched a lot of YouTube videos of these, and an alarming number of them involve reluctant butterflies clinging to the bride's veil, the groom's finger, or an obliging guest. But I think it's worth the risk — the moment of monarchs filling the air is a moment so much like my mother herself: beautiful, arresting, and full of the promise of flight.