The Dam Broke

Yesterday, I had the privilege of seeing the most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen. Coincidentally, she was my daughter. I say that because I know that every father thinks his daughter is the most beautiful bride that he’s every seen, and I know that anyone reading this who didn’t see my daughter yesterday is likely to say, “Isn’t it nice that fathers think that.” Well, let’s be clear about something. Those fathers, bless their hearts, are simply saying what they’re expected to say. I have no doubt that their daughters do fall somewhere on the spectrum from pretty to beautiful. But, when it comes to applying the “most” designation, I speak the truth. Sorry, but that’s what this blog is all about – the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth; I swear.

When I saw my future son-in-law during the picture taking session before the ceremony I was very impressed with how sharp he looked. His mom thought that he was the most handsome groom she’d ever seen. I told him, “You look good enough to marry my daughter.” Then, I saw my daughter. After pacing around for about an hour, trying to figure out how to speak the truth to this young man, I finally decided to just be straight forward and tell him, “I’m not sure that you look good enough to marry my daughter.” I think his mom may have agreed. I think he may have agreed. It’s a huge undertaking to marry the most beautiful bride that anyone has ever seen.

Finally, the moment arrived. The music began; family members were escorted to their seats; the bridal party procession commenced. After 11 bride’s maids and seven groomsmen had made their way to the front of the ceremony, only my daughter and I remained. I froze that moment into permanent memory.

I’m very good at walking a bride “down the aisle” and have enjoyed that privilege with all three of my daughters. Coincidentally, my two older daughters previously held the title of the Most Beautiful Bride that Anyone Has Ever Seen. What are the odds of one family landing that designation three times! That’s probably difficult for other, less fortunate, families to accept; but, the truth can be hard to hear.

That walk is one of the most poignant moments in the life of a father. It is filled with more emotion than I can adequately describe, including profound love, pride, wonder, yearning, anxiety, melancholy, and a touch of loss. This walk is made slowly, so it can be savored. If I’m going to cry at a wedding, any wedding, the odds are overwhelming that it’s going to be during “the walk”.

Yesterday’s ceremony was held in a multi-tiered, sloping back yard of a beautiful home built along the Kern River. My daughter and I literally descended to the 200 people waiting below. We paused at the upper tier to allow a few pictures to be taken and, more importantly, to allow the two of us to soak in the view. All eyes were on the most beautiful bride that any of those incredibly lucky people had ever seen. The old guy walking next to her was a prop – literally and figuratively. But, he was a proud prop. At that moment a small tributary of the Kern River opened up in me and my daughter. Fortunately, we were able to dam it up before it got out of control.

I had the honor of officiating at the ceremony. After walking the most beautiful bride that anyone has ever seen to the waiting and incredibly lucky groom, I then “gave her away” when asked the traditional question, “Who gives this woman to be married to this man?” At that point, instead of taking my seat next to my wife, I stepped to the front and said, “Please be seated.”

I have performed a number of wedding ceremonies before, during my tenure as a bishop in the LDS Church. But, doing so for your own son or daughter is entirely another thing. It adds just a touch of stress to the occasion. I’m told it went well, but I won’t know for sure until the movie is released. My grandson filmed it all.

I was under a small archway and the position of the speakers for the sound system created an odd sensation – I couldn’t really hear my own voice. It was something akin to an out-of-body experience. But, what mattered is that I could see the smiles on the faces of the two people in front of me. They listened; they responded; they repeated their vows; and they each appropriately answered the only important question asked of them. I held myself together until it came time to say, “By virtue of the authority vested in me….” At that moment the tenuous grip I had on my emotions slipped. The river surged; but, the dam held.

Later, after dinner, I had the honor of dancing with my daughter. Something had changed. She was still my daughter, of course; but now she was also another man’s wife. Another man could lay claim to loving her as much as I do; perhaps more. She had elected to follow the traditional path and change her last name. She had, as enjoined by Saint Matthew, begun the process of leaving her father and mother and cleaving unto her spouse. It was as it should be. Even this change was unfolding on cue, as planned. Again, the river surged; but, again, the dam held.

It was a wonderful occasion on a perfect evening at a great location. Today, one very lucky man will get on a plane to fly to Cozumel for his honeymoon. Next to him will be the most beautiful bride that anyone has ever seen. The people on that plane will be talking about her for a long time. As will the old guy who slowly walked through rose pedals with her yesterday.

That damn dam just broke.