I Planned a Wedding That Never Happened

I married a week later at a location 5,800 miles away

June 6th. I was supposed to be in Texas marrying my groom at the country church where my dad grew up and was buried. However, my groom and I didn’t make it.

The church was reserved, my pastor had set the date on his calendar; the food vendor was ready to cater a breakfast wedding. We planned to set up tables with white tablecloths and flowers. I had the dress, the veil, my shoes. The groom had his suit and tie.

Most of my friends were married, so I would nix the bouquet toss. Maybe I would place the bouquet on my dad’s grave, to remember him on this special day.

My groom and I would ride off into the sunset while guests threw flower petals or something bird-friendly and biodegradable.

All my family would be there and many of my friends. It would be small, simple, and sweet.

It was the perfect plan. What could go wrong?

As June 6th got closer, the vendors began calling for confirmation, but we were wavering. We wanted to get married, but my groom’s visa was still in limbo.

It could be approved in a month, six months, a year and a half, or never. We called to ask what the status was, but there were no answers.

To us, the relationship was more important than the party. We amended the plan, changed the date, and moved the location 5,800 miles away.

My groom and I said “I do” eight years ago in Romania on a beautiful June day surrounded by family and friends.

It wasn’t how we’d planned it, but it was the perfect day.

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