Letting Go

Letting go
Two years of planning, arranging and saving has brought us to this day.
This very special day.

I turn to watch, as she slowly and in time to the music, glides towards
me. Her feet hardly touching, the lovingly waxed floor.

She is smiling from ear to ear. Her sparkling eyes betray her emotions.
Excitement. Trepidation. Joy.

The music seems to fade into the background as I watch my baby walk up
the aisle. Not a baby anymore, a grown woman.
Her step-dad is proudly, walking beside her. Her arm safely tucked into
his. He supports her to the destiny she has chosen.

He never knew her as a small child. The cheeky grin, which always made
me smile. The infectious laugh that only a child has. Her very, first
tooth. Her first smile, and her first fall. I watched her grow into a
headstrong, independent individual, with moods that could turn on a
sixpence.

Soon the pigtails, the skateboard and "The Chronicles of Narnia",
disappeared in favour of boys and "New kids on the block"!

Her step-dad came into her life and mine, amidst the turmoil of teenage
tantrums.
The door always slammed shut. Music loud enough to wake the dead. Sulks
and silences. Fluorescent pink hair. Hugs. Laughter and tears. And
secrets only they shared.
He could have run for the hills, but he didn't, he stayed.

He took on the role of dad without hesitation. He was the only dad she
had ever known and she wanted more than anything for him to give her
away. And there he is. He looks so handsome in his cravat and tails.
Proud too. And a little nervous. I know his speech as well as he
does.

The rustle of her silk gown brings me back to the present as she comes
towards me. Except for the strains of "Here comes the Bride", you can
hear a pin drop.

Her bouquet of lavender and roses pervade the warm, musty air of the
old church and leaves a trail of heady scent wafting behind her. As the
sun streams through stained glass windows it sends rainbows all around
as if to wish her good luck. She becomes ethereal.
She reaches me and stops. For a moment she holds my gaze. I see my
likeness looking back at me. I struggle with emotions fighting to
escape. She leans forward and kisses me on the cheek.

She glides pass me in a sea of ivory silk, followed by bridesmaids of
descending ages.
The music slowly fades until it is no more. Everyone sits down.

As time goes on I hear snatches of the ceremony.
"Who gives this woman to be married to this man"?
"I do", comes the reply.
Her dad gives her hand in marriage, to the young man standing beside
her. Then he takes his place beside me, his duty done.
The symbolism is not lost on me. She is gone.
Her life is in his hands now and he in hers. If only she could've
stayed in Narnia a bit longer.

I know I am being selfish. I must let her go. I tell myself that she
won't go far. We will be here for her as always. But I know I will miss
the slamming doors and the loud music. Even the pink hair.

The rings are exchanged and vows are made. Hymns sung in praise. But
all I can think about is her.

She looks so grown up, so majestic, so beautiful. In my heart she will
always be the little girl that brought so much meaning to my life. I
have sent a beautiful person out into the world to make it a better
place just by being there. And I am satisfied.

Now she is standing beside the man she loves. The man she has promised
with all her heart to love, honour and cherish.
I try not to be sad. I had the best years and no one can take that away
from me.
"Whom God has joined, let no man put asunder".

She looks lovingly into her husband's eyes. They look so happy. I am so
proud and yes I am happy too. A kiss seals the contract.
The register is signed, and photographs are taken. They walk arm in
arm, back down the aisle. Racing headlong into a new life and
everything it has to offer.

I watch as she disappears beneath a throng of brightly coloured hats
and dark suits. Her words come back to me. Just before I left the house
for the church, she said,
"You will always be my mum, and I will always love you".

I can't ask any more than that, can I?