"A bottle of red, a bottle of white" Billy Joel

“A bottle of red, a bottle of white
It all depends on your appetite
I'll meet you any time you want
In our Italian Restaurant.”- Billy Joel

And those lyrics from one of my favorite songs led me to this post...

It took a lot to get me here, to get me to a place where I could talk about the fact that my dad would not be at my wedding. In about six months I’ll be getting married and instead of walking down the aisle with my dad I’ll be walking down with one of my best friend’s instead.

In January of 2014, I became a 21 year old girl who lost her dad. I lost the lyrics to all our favorite songs, when I lost you.  Before being a stay at home dad became cool, I was the one with the stay at home dad. My dad stopped working, as a grocer nonetheless (just like my future husband) to stay at home with me, all so I wouldn’t have to go to day care. Sure my parents sacrificed a lot. I grew up without cable TV, without playing two sports at the same time, but more importantly I grew up with a dad. I grew up with someone who picked me up from school when I missed the bus, who let me give them facials on a random Tuesday, someone who watched “The Price is Right” with me every day, took me to Winchester playground and bought me Bubble Tape with my best friend and made me tuna fish sandwiches also known as the original “chipwiches” on Fridays

I would be lying if I said I didn’t think about him 99.9% of the time. I mean I spent the majority of my life with him. We would go on these car trips as a family every year, spontaneously leaving at 5 a.m. to miss the traffic traveling to NY, Virginia or N.H.. I would sit in the front with him, mom and brother in the back and we would sing. We would sing every song on the Frank Sinatra, Nat King Cole , Patsy Cline tape/cd.  We would yell out the words loudly while clapping our hands and we would have the best time. Much like the man I'm marrying these car rides were treasured adventures , and I was the infamous shotgun rider.  Sure we would fight when we weren’t in the car. We disagreed about a lot of things, and had our words, but mostly I think it was because we were almost exactly the same.  We had this LOVE for one another that I think only a daughter and father can have, something that is so unconditional, something that I hope my husband to be and  future children can be ever so fortunate to have. 

When my dad left, I said goodbye first. I knew there were a dozen other people in the room, but for me it felt like we were all alone in his car singing our songs. I said goodbye, kissed him on his forehead and I left. I walked out and shortly after my cousin followed and hugged and me. In that moment a lot went through my mind, but at the same time it was so little. I called two people and told them to tell everyone else, and they did. They took care of it all. They showed up the next day, lent me their Burberry bags for comfort, took me funeral dress shopping, drank countless amounts of red and white wine with me, danced with me, and most importantly sang with me.

Like any girl, I thought about my wedding day and how my dad would walk me down the aisle, and suddenly my dreams came to halt. The thought of dancing to “Unforgettable” suddenly became a thought that only appeared in my day dreams. In my dreams they came, and in them they remain.

Sometime after my dad left someone reminded me I would have to “walk down the aisle without my dad”, something I will never forget, though they may. The same two people I called the day I lost him, became the same two people I would “honor”  in the next step of my life. Through good and bad they have made all the difference, just by being my sounding board in what at the time was a quite car ride.

As the days draw near, I know there will be a piece of me that is missing.  Sometimes talking about it helps, and sometimes talking about it hurts. In  the end, I hope it helps me, and maybe someone somewhere it will helped to, because memories are a good thing, and at the end of the end of the day, sometimes it's all we have left to hold onto. On August 29th, I know that I won’t have “George Bank’s” to walk me down the aisle. Instead I will have the little boy in the back seat who sang along quietly, the most handsome little brother I could ask for, and someone who I know will make sure his dad will have an “Unforgettable” part in the day, because for me he has had an "Unforgettable" part in my life.

 

Letter from the Editor: 

To my little brother who sat in the back. Thank you for learning the word’s to all my favorite songs, for learning how to Irish Step Dance (even just a little) and for learning how to clap to the music. It has been difficult to know I would not have  dad and his “zipper” walking me down the aisle, but knowing that I have you has made me ever so grateful. Even if 22 years ago I didn’t know how grateful I could be.

XOXO B