Going to the Chapel

Dear Babe,

I remember the peace that overcame me as I walked down the aisle toward you.

The months leading up to our wedding day were a flurry of house projects and tulle. It was a whirlwind that left both of us reeling at times. We clutched each other for dear life through a storm of nails, insulation, fabric flowers, and catering. We questioned ourselves often. We dreamed of disappearing and coming home married. Elope, elope, elope. We almost did, until the day you told me that we would both regret it if our families and friends weren’t there to witness it.

I loved you so much in that moment. Not that there was ever a moment of me not loving you; but in that moment, I saw how willing you were to try to make me happy. The wedding was always my dream. The marriage was our dream. But you let me have both. That was you. That was what you did.

In the days leading up to the wedding, I found myself crying a lot. There was so much emotion welling up inside me; I could feel it in my chest. Physical symptoms of a love that I never dreamed that I would have. I wrote my new name-to-be everywhere. In my day planner, on receipts, even on my mother’s refrigerator door. We had been together, known each, for so long, my love, that I almost couldn’t believe our time had really and truly come. I looked forward to being your wife more than you could ever know. You made my heart sing songs of a future rooted in truth and kindness; I was never scared when by your side.

Two nights before our wedding, the last night we spent together before the ceremony, I thought back to when I was a nineteen year old girl who had just met you. I stayed awake for hours just going through our story in my mind. You were sleeping soundly – you always did – and didn’t wake up even though I tried to wake you. Instead, I watched you sleeping. You looked like a boy, so peaceful and content. I remember hoping it was me that urged the corners of your sleepy lips into a smile. I snuggled into you and inhaled the smell of my future. I whispered my new name out loud, trying it on. “Mrs. Valentine.” I fell asleep with my hand in yours.

I can’t quite articulate (surprising, I know) my feelings as the chapel doors opened and I saw you standing at the other end of the aisle. It can only be described as coming home. I saw ahead of me everything that my life had led up to and all that lay ahead. We locked eyes and I saw the best version of myself in your eyes. And I knew you were my home, my sanctuary, and my future.

If I had known what would happen, I would have rushed up the aisle to you so we didn’t have to waste one single moment. I was blessed to have you as my husband for two years, one month, and 8 days.  It was the honor of my life to join you in the dance of our marriage. It was everything that has been or ever will be.

When my time comes, I imagine that I will enter Heaven through those chapel doors and you will be standing at the end of the aisle waiting, once again, to take my hand in yours.

Love,

Amanda