A Crown of Flowers, A Catbird Bride

This wedding is impossible to introduce. I will let Leigh, the poet, speak for herself.

I am trying to find a way in, a way to start telling you how you plan a wedding, a rebirth, when your first love, your great love, your mother is dying. I hope this falls on deaf ears, that none of you sail on this same wild ship with me, but I think that we all sail on it together, if not now, then. I hope that my profoundly bittersweet celebration finds a home in tender hearts.

My whole life, the only things I ever knew about my wedding is that the rabbi who married me would be the rabbi I grew up with, and that I would speak the words, “I am beloved’s and my beloved is mine” (I am, and he is). I did not know, that nearly 6 months after my wedding, I would remember virtually nothing our rabbi said as he spoke to us under the chuppah that I made with my best girl. Instead, my head echoes with the unbelievably beautiful words he spoke at my unbelievably beautiful mother’s funeral, 76 days after I was married. How hard we work for one day, our wedding day. We ought only to work so hard for every day that follows.

"Death, most presences of absences, had entered the garden, and from that moment on, absences multiplied. It was dusk, and the appointed hour had arrived, the warm scents of the banquet were rising from the kitchens, and in spite of the tragedy everything was ready to go on time..." -Shalimar the Clown, Salman Rushdie

Oh, but my mother was well at my wedding. Up she went, in the chair for the hora, with glee and joy radiating more than any diamond could. She gave me away that day, but I am always hers.

I knew that I wanted our wedding to be a celebration of all my mother taught me to treasure more than the gold I love so much: family, friends, community. I wanted her to see the people who would cradle me in her most present absence. Cradle me they have, none more so than the man I am lucky enough to call my husband. 

Leigh's Photo Captions:

1. Hallway – My friend and neighbor, Amy Merrick, made my flower crown. I asked for wild, and wild I got

2. Liz – My best girl, getting me ready. She painted us a huge portrait of John and Yoko on their wedding day. It hangs over our bed, the patron saints of love.

3. Nails – Naomi at Hello Beautiful covered my nails in pearls and mirrors that spelled out Kevin on one hand and Leigh on the other.

4. Shoes – My mom bought my shoes. When I wore them to her funeral, the confetti from the wedding was still stuck to the insides.

5. Swan girls – I’m sure the Metropolitan Building has since instituted a no-confetti policy. Eleanor, Carlos, I’m sorry.

6. Swan guests – The absolutely lovely Chad Merritt of Mon Petit Fantome provided the swan artwork. Seating was open, which meant some of our friends took to the floor. Some of our parents were not pleased.

7. My mom – We walked down the aisle to Mount Wittenberg Orca by The Dirty Projectors. Maryam Keyhani made my feather bouquet. Kevin’s suit is by Mr. Ned and his tie is Acne. And me? My parents made me.

8. Balloons – In lieu of flowers, I opted for more guests and a couple hundred balloons.

9. Married! – I sewed the chuppah from old lace and tassels with one of my best girls. She's a perfectionist, I am not. She is henceforth known as the tassle-master.

10. Me and Mom – My little, beautiful mom.

 

11. Friends – The gentleman in the suit is Andrew of Grand Street Suit Company wearing his pitch-perfect wares.

12. Us hora – We danced the hora, so up on the chairs we went.

13. Mom hora – The diamonds on her neck were dun next to the light of her smile. Nothing compared.

14. He plays – Kevin and our friends played covers of Pink Floyd, Neil Young, Ray Charles, Fleetwood Mac, Dylan and The Shirelles.

15. Dress – Our friend Ryan took this photo of my Vera Wang dress with one of the antique cameras he collects.

16. And then we went to the bar. 

Leigh adds: I did mean to mention my photographer, Fede, and Nackie who owns The Parlour who did my hair and makeup. They were both such dears to work with.