Feeling particularly girly this evening, I indulged not in watching my usual category of documentaries on Netflix, but some good old “Say Yes to the Dress”. One particular episode happened to be about grandmother’s and their standards of wedding gowns being both modest and traditional. It was entertaining to watch their expressions as the granddaughters appeared in gown after gown waiting to hear the approval of grandma.
While I know my grandmother wouldn’t stand for anything too glitzy or overly revealing, I do know she would enjoy herself. To be a part of helping me pick out a dress similar to hers, sharing stories of what her wedding was like, the details of the event. It is still difficult to grasp that she won’t be a part of it. That neither of my grandmas will. There are countless films, photos, and ads surrounding a central idea in which women of the family come together to celebrate & encourage the bride. And while I have more aunts and cousins than I know what to do with, I shall miss the intimate connection of my grandmothers.
The show pulled at my heartstrings, upon my selfish desire to never let go of those I’ve lost. A black spot on a memory that will not exist for many years.