I’ve waited too long
I should have asked
Mom
was it hard to
give away
your wedding
whose idea was it
how did it feel
to sit in the church
at your wedding
and watch them
get married
instead of you?
June sixth
nineteen hundred and forty three
you sat and watched
did you think of
your wedding dress
hanging
in your bedroom closet
wrapped in a sheet
the banns read
the guests invited
the food readied
all in place
but for the picking
of flowers
for the church.
The air of excitement
the guests abuzz
Uncle Emery on furlough
the proposal
the rush
the special permit
to marry Aunt Margaret
rules relaxed on account of
the war.
Mom how did it feel
to give away
your wedding
the date
the church
the minister
the food you’d prepared
served at their reception
the guests you’d invited
came
and gave their gifts
to the bride and groom
of the day.
And you and dad
quietly married
four days later
the same minister
the same little church
you wore a wedding dress
of your own design
sewn
by your own hand
it was still new
relatives and neighbours came
to the wedding;
I suppose.
How did it feel that day
when you give away your wedding
I never thought to ask.
Now you’re gone;
I’ve waited too long.