June 20th, 2020 was supposed to be our wedding day. The date itself was special to us. It was our 10 year anniversary of dating, the 6/20/20 had a good ring to it, and it was just a few days prior to one of our favorite events of the year, the Electric Forest Music Festival which was slated to be our honeymoon. The date worked too for all of our vendors: the ceremony location, the restaurant for the reception, the photographer, the bakery, nearly everything had been locked in. We had started to receive decorations for the tables; we had decided on a drinks menu that had specialty cocktails representing our life together, and some of our favorite beers were being special ordered for our big day. We received a package of 70 final invitations that we spent hours deciding on, working with a graphic designer to coordinate with our save the dates perfectly, hand designed stamps, and pre-labeled envelopes for our loved ones. I got my wedding dress too.
One month later, it’s as if those plans evaporated, sucked into the vortex of 2020. By the beginning of April it was clear that a social gathering was not going to happen in June, especially not at a restaurant, so we awkwardly sent out wedding cancellation cards. Yes, they coordinated too. And to honor what would have been our wedding day, Ryan and I escaped into the woods and camped for a couple of days with our dog, Violet. Our friends spent some time with us on Zoom that night, celebrating with tiki drinks and glow sticks and acknowledging what we had lost. My mom sent me a really sweet note reminding me that someday we will be married and it will be special when that day comes. Ryan and I have since spent a lot of time talking about it too, what we want, what we don’t want, when will it be safe, and for how many. It’s been stressful and sad and overwhelming and all of the things that our wedding was not supposed to be.
I’m not sure if a wedding will ever happen for us, or at least one at the scale that we had intended. My wedding dress may never see the light of day and might be hanging in it’s garment bag forever; our decorations might get donated and our invitations might become kindling for our next camp fire. But then there’s also the important part: I haven’t been able to marry the love of my life. More than anything, that hurts the most. Ryan is supposed to be my husband by now. We were supposed to say vows, and kiss, and have wedding bands representing our commitment to each other. We’ve said so many times that we’ve been together for so long that it doesn’t really matter, but truthfully it does. It’s painful. But, when I’m not upset thinking about all of the details, personal touches, and time spent that will never be seen I remember that I’m also really thankful. I’m thankful for our apartment, and our jobs, and our health, and the health of our loved ones, and for Violet. And I’m also really thankful for Ryan.
Someday I will marry him and promise to be by his side through hikes, and concerts, and cooking dinner, and mai tais, and even pandemics. While quarantine changed a lot about our lives and our wedding plans, it did not change that one bit.
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