8 days…

For all 4 of you devoted subscribers out there, this will probably be my last post for awhile. Tomorrow, at the ass-crack of dawn, I’ll be driven to Vancouver so I can say goodbye to my man, get on a plane, run around like a headless chicken…and a week later, say “I do” to that same man.

The end is in sight. I can almost taste it. (For anyone out there planning a wedding, I would hesitate to recommend planning a destination wedding. Unless you already have key agents set up at your destination [and frankly, all over the dang country] who are ready to make “Mission Wedding” a reality.)
It feels like just yesterday, I was sitting at my sister-in-heart’s kitchen table, listening to 4 lady hens clucking away while they furiously wrote notes and asked questions. I remember grabbing Steve’s hand and thinking, “Nine weeks. Are we crazy? Can we actually pull this off?”

I shouldn’t have worried.

Now that it’s time to go, I am excited. I am sleepless. I am reflective. I am broke.
I am crying over just about anything.
A song, a kind gesture, weddings on TV, helping Steve put on his wedding suit to make sure everything fits (he looks damn good, by the way!), seeing the look in his eye and feeling his lips upon my face whenever we talk about the future.

So many feelings. And with those, comes fear.

I already know that the day itself is not going to be perfect, and that’s okay. I already know that our marriage is going to have tough times, and I’m willing to face that. I’ve already been dealing with those fears for the past number of weeks.

This time, it’s something infinitely more simple.

The tears.

I’m afraid that this trend of crying over anything is going to carry over into the entire week that I’m home, finishing up last minute plans, making memories with my family and friends, and finally, the high-heeled walk down that grassy aisle. I’m afraid that I’m going to lose control and be a bawl-bag to the point where everyone’s debating, “Kay, she’s…happy… right? Cause right now her face is just such a road map of a bleeding clown that I can’t really tell. This is awkward. ”

So what do I do? I’ve been tempted to shut down a bit, make things less emotional, therefore less uncomfortable.

Except I can’t. I did that once before, when I  heard the news that all of my paperwork was done and I could legally live in Canada and finally start a life. I allowed myself 5 seconds of sobbing, and then I listened to that inward voice that said, “STOP THIS. You are making a scene.”

I’ve regretted it ever since. I’ve never been able to go back to that moment and really feel that embrace of absolute victory and freedom. It’s gone.

I don’t want the same to be said for my wedding day. I have decided that I am going to go, and I am going to FEEL THE CRAP out of this next week and if that makes you uncomfortable, then don’t be there. I don’t need you to rain on my…wait…rain? Un-rain? Cause I’ll be doing the…anyways…

This is the week I’ve been waiting for my entire life, and I’m going to enjoy it, even if I need to invest a stock in Kleenex and garbage bags and hand sanitizer.
Oh, and *newsflash*, Steve’s a bit of a weeper as well, so yeah. Hug us, love us, take pictures of us, be happy for us. Cause life’s too short to not feel, to not be present and alive for every single moment.

Cheers [and tears] to freakin weekend! :-*



2 thoughts on “8 days…

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