Save The Last Dance For Me

It’s only a 60 second walk down the isle, but on Saturday when my father took my sister by the arm and led her past the stained glass windows in the church, I could barely watch. My eyes were somewhat fixated on the floor, until that traditional wedding march began to play and everyone rose, along with my eyes. What people saw that day was perhaps one of the most beautiful visions ever to be had. Now every wedding I have attended, the guests always say the same thing..."You're the most beautiful bride ever." But on my sister's wedding day, I felt this was actually true. Seriously, she put the models in Bride magazine to shame! And while I’m not one to compliment my sister very often, on this day, her little brother was left in awe. While friends and family were busy living in the moment by soaking up the exquisite and simply stunning vision before them, my mind was elsewhere. When I lifted my head and my eyes gazed to the back of the church, I didn’t expect to see the image I immediately saw. It was my sister, but she was 7 again and playing dress up. Long, brown, curly locks and those intense, blue eyes in her First Communion dress. When I saw my Dad walking with her, my mind traveled back in time where a series of childhood memories flashed before me. Instead of seeing her in the crisp, white 5-inch stilettos she was actually wearing, I saw her in a pair of my Mom's high heeled shoes, three sizes too big, stumbling down our house steps. Instead of seeing my Dad walking my sister down the isle on her wedding day, I saw him with that same 7-year-old girl standing atop his feet so she could dance with him. She would fall off his toes and giggle in delight. To cover her slip up, he would take her small hands in his and twirl her to the music. Then back on his toes she would go. One, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, three. Apparently you’re never too young to learn the waltz.

My breath shallow. My chest tight. My palms clammy to the touch. I was a nervous wreck and I wasn’t even the one getting married! I can’t even imagine what I’m going to be like one day as a groom. I’m going to be an f-ing mess! Well, hopefully a beautiful mess, but a mess nevertheless. A snowflake must have fallen in my eye in August because I could feel some type of foreign liquid trying to take shape just beneath my right, lower lid. There was no way I was crying infront of all these people! So I swallowed the lump in my throat and did the tried and true method/trick of "soaking up the liquid by performing excessive eyeball movement." I looked to the left, the right, up, down, and all around - hoping that my cornea would feel overworked, become thirsty and want to drink up a salty tear or two before the laws of gravity took over, forcing it to drop and roll down my face. Oh the horror! Somehow I managed to pull myself together and I’m glad I did. The night was young and there was plenty of time for all that sentimental crap later. Afterall, I still had the best man's toast to deliver!

After failing to compose a speech with my laptop, I threw in the towel and went with a different approach. I decided to go about it the old fashion way, with pen and paper in hand. I worked diligently on my speech for 3 hours on the flight to California. Then the night before the wedding, I sat down to edit and practice it some. Anyone who’s ever had to compose a formal toast will tell you it’s not an easy task. And perhaps I took too much time collecting my thoughts and putting them down on paper, but in the end, it was worth it.

I rode around in the limo for 4 hours between the ceremony and reception. Needless to say, I was waaay over the buzz limit. So when we sat for dinner, I used my meal to help sober me up before I had to give the toast. And then...I knocked it out of the park! Ok maybe that’s a bit cocky to say, but the toast actually went much better than I expected (or anyone expected for that matter)! I had my sister and all her bridesmaids crying, as well as my Mom, Grandma and most of the women in the place. But they were happy tears so it's all good. My sister said it was the best part of her wedding day, which has left me glowing for days.

So it's official. My sister is no longer a Miss and I now have a new brother-in-law. I'm happy, but can't help feeling a bit sad too. She’s all grownup now and no longer mine to protect. But I like to think, that as her little brother, I can always be useful for something. And while my feet are still sore from dancing so much, I consider that a good thing. It means we partied hard, had fun and sent her off into the married world with a bang. Honestly, most of the weekend was a blur, but I do recall my sister's final single girl words to me..."Try not to sleep with any of my bridesmaids." Rather fitting since the object of my affection for the past decade was there! (More on that some other day.)

Before the night had ended, I had just one request for my sister - to save the last dance for me. She graciously obliged.