It's my blog, I can write whatever I want :) Last weekend I was back in Wisconsin, visiting my family for a cousin's graduation. My mom and I had an unexpected evening of bonding - the event, not the bonding was unexpected. After a glass or two (I might have under reported that amount) of wine, my mom showed me her wedding dress. I have actually never seen it before! She also showed me her mother's wedding suit. For the record, Gramma's wedding suit fits my thigh; She is a teeny-tiny person!
I think it was difficult for her but she also showed me her wedding album. I have to admit, I didn't think this was an experience I get to have, as a divorced kid. But my mom is a strong, amazing lady. I felt like this moment wasn't about that particular wedding, but more about a rite of passage. This was what my mom wore..this is what my gramma wore. It made me feel like the ritual of picking out a dress is this common female experience, and it made me feel more attached to the women in my family, who have also done this. It is hard to explain, but there was a sense of belonging and that I was joining something, and this had nothing to do with Groom. Even now, I find the right words escape me as I try to describe this...
I don't want to say that it makes me more of a woman, because I don't need to be married to feel this way. And having a wedding doesn't make me more of a woman because lots of women have other traditions or do not have weddings, or are legally barred from having a wedding. And it certainly doesn't solidify my role as a woman, because I believe that gender is a construction, a costume that we can take off or put on at will. But despite this, seeing my mother's and grandmother's wedding outfits did make me consider the way women are married, and the historical significance of these outfits, and what it means to be part of a family tradition.
So here's to you mom. Thank you for being you, and for helping me be me. I love you!