A grooms story (Part 3)

Here is the conclusion of the grooms story. We hope you enjoyed this.


That small anticipation also rattled around in my head as I stood up there, but it was overshadowed tremendously by the fact that I could see Jenny’s umbrella moving along outside the chapel windows to my left.  Holly, her friend and maid of honor, held it for her.  Once I saw the umbrella, I didn’t peek anymore.  I like a surprise.
When the door opened and she started walking down the isle I freaked out a little.  She was, in that moment, the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.  James had told me to expect that, but I didn’t. 
A wedding is of course all about the bride.  She had a legion of people helping her get ready while I stood alone in the dressing room.  She had spent a great deal of time and money and energy on her dress, while I could hardly be bothered to get measured for a rental tuxedo.  Her father would walk her down the isle and give her away while I stood up there in somebody else’s pants.  
He did walk her down the isle, and Chris asked him the question about who gives her away, and he said “I do”, which was awesome because I know how much it meant to him.  She’d gotten married on the sly once, before I’d ever met her, and when I had approached him before the engagement to ask if he had any issue with me asking Jenny to marry me, he’d told me that this time he wanted to be there to give her away.  He looked really happy, but I barely noticed since I couldn’t take my eyes off of Jenny.  
Her shoulders and arms were bare, her hair was done up all fancy, her makeup was perfect, her skin glowed, and she wore the biggest most genuine smile.  I was probably grinning like an idiot, but I seriously doubt anyone was looking at me.  She was also sporting an ample amount of cleavage.  Not so much as for it to be distasteful, but enough that I about broke my eyeballs trying not to blatantly stare at it.
I feel like I should spend more time talking about the cleavage, but suffice to say, it was magnificent.  
Really the entire presence of her was astoundingly beautiful.  Every bit of concern that I was feeling about how obnoxious she had been during the past few days just sort of melted away, and then it was just me and her standing up there.  It wasn’t, I mean Holly, Chris, and Patrick were up there too, but despite that it was just the two of us.  When she looked up at me her face was so lovely and so happy I knew everything would be alright.  
The ceremony proceeded.  Patrick got sacked, and Jenny and I shared a giggle about it when he was asked to provide the ring.  He held it together nicely.  Chris kept the proceedings lighthearted and reasonably short.  
I kissed the bride, and it felt right.  
We walked down the isle with the appropriate fanfare, to the tune of “Another One Bites the Dust”.  Everyone milled around outside and some preliminary photos were taken by people with little digi-cams and cell phone cameras before we submitted to Jess and Tony for the official post-ceremony photo shoot.  We did some typical sort of wedding shots where family members gather around in various configurations to be photographed together, and then split to do the pictures of just us.  
Jess and Tony each approach their art form from different perspectives, and with all of the ideas they generated for pictures we wound up with a really incredible photo album.  Some of the shots are, for lack of a better word, epic.  
I was in a phenomenally good mood when we left the chapel to head back to the house and start the reception.  So much so that I got pulled over going 96 in a 65.  I was in my tuxedo and Jenny was in her dress looking unbelievably good.  The cop that pulled me over looked kind of bummed to have to write me a ticket, but since it was such an obnoxious speed that he clocked me at he had to do it.  I had to go to court for that, actually.  It cost me almost three hundred bucks.  
The reception went, I think, pretty well.  I wish we hadn’t had it at the house, but despite that it was a really good time.  The cake was delicious, the caterers took great care of us, the company was great, and I think everybody had fun.  I had a little too much fun, if I’m being honest.  
Good times.
~Zachary Wakefield
Zach Wakefield is a family man from Vermont with many interests including a variety of musical instruments, electronic engineering and inventing, medieval weaponry, and creative writing.  He also manages a blog, aptly named ” Random Things to Read ” which he uses as a creative outlet or just a place to goof around with words.  Zach has also published a lovely little illustrated story-poem entitled ” Rutkin ” (an equally, if not as obviously, apt name)  which, as you’ll see if you click on the link there, is available on Amazon.  

A grooms story (Part 2)

This is the 2nd part of the grooms story. Come back tomorrow to read the ending!


Down in the dressing room my reflection looked at me from the mirror and nodded in a sort of general approval.  I had cleaned up nicely, and had worked out and eaten right and whatnot for a while before the wedding because I wanted to look good in the pictures.  
Pictures, as it happened, were being taken of the bride and whatever other hoopla that accompanies a room full of women preparing for a wedding.  I don’t know what goes on, but the thought of it terrifies me.  I wasn’t concerned about the wedding photographers.  Jess (my sister) and Tony (we might as well be related) from Dark Light Photo Studios had given their professional services as a wedding gift to us.  Both were (and continue to be) incredibly talented photographers and I already knew what they were capable of, so being concerned about wedding pictures never even made it onto my radar scope.  
In that capacity I can’t relate to any drama that engaged folks have in terms of finding the perfect photographer, but I imagine it’s a whole other thing.  
I had a nice showing of friends at the thing.  Chris, who would officiate the ceremony thanks to being ordained online, had come all the way from Alaska just to do the ceremony and visit for a couple of days.  James and his wife had come from St. Louis.  Pat had come from Montana to be the best man.  Cousin Matt came in from Illinois.  Grumpy and his wife flew in from Vegas.
Gallo flew in from California.  He missed his flight, then got drunk in the terminal waiting for the rescheduled flight, and subsequently missed that one.  The morning of the wedding I found him sleeping in his rental car in the driveway.  He’d arrived in the middle of the night, drank a few beers in the driveway, and slept in his car because he didn’t want to wake anyone up.  
That’s how he rolls.  
A little while before the ceremony started a few of them came down and hung out with me in the dressing room.  There was a good deal of friendly ribbing taking place, much of which centered around the idea of “Run.  I’ll cover you”, and “It’s not too late to fake your own death”.  I considered both. 
 
I got the butterflies right before it was time to get up in front of everybody and stand there in my penguin suit.  It started sprinkling a little.  The music also started.  It was the “Butterfly Waltz” by Brian Crain, which is lovely if you haven’t heard it.  
Patrick stood behind me.  He and I have been friends since before either of us can remember.  He had the ring box in his pocket and had been given very explicit instructions by Jenny (with whom nobody wanted to argue) not to even open the box and look at the ring for fear of losing it.  The real reason we didn’t want him to look is that I had sketched a rudimentary picture of a nutsack and hid it in the box so when he opened it to hand me the ring, there it would be.  He’d be sacked, and would then have to try not to laugh amidst the overarching gravity of the occasion. 
Sacking people is a game long played by my friends and me.  It would take some time to explain.
~Zachary Wakefield

 

Zach Wakefield is a family man from Vermont with many interests including a variety of musical instruments, electronic engineering and inventing, medieval weaponry, and creative writing.  He also manages a blog, aptly named ” Random Things to Read ” which he uses as a creative outlet or just a place to goof around with words.  Zach has also published a lovely little illustrated story-poem entitled ” Rutkin ” (an equally, if not as obviously, apt name)  which, as you’ll see if you click on the link there, is available on Amazon.

A grooms story (Part 1)

Often times, when people think or talk about weddings, its of the bride. Sometimes it seems that the groom is left out. So we wanted to show the wedding day story from the grooms perspective. Below you will find the 1st of a 3 part grooms story. Come back tomorrow and Thursday to read the rest of the saga!


There I was in the mirror; all decked out in a rented tuxedo, shiny cuff-links and all.  I’ve never understood the point of fancy cuff-links, or of cuff-links in general for that matter.  At no time have I said to my self “Self, if only there were some way to link these two sides of my cuff together” and not immediately realized that there was a button designed for that exact purpose right there on the cuff already.

I was alone in the little dressing room beneath the non-denominational chapel we’d chosen for the wedding ceremony.  I’m not sure where everyone was, but I had been instructed to remain in the dressing room for fear of laying eyes on my bride-to-be before the big reveal.  I wasn’t as excited as I expected to be; more relieved that all the preparations were done.
My fiancee Jenny and I had agreed at the onset of our engagement that we would both prefer something relatively simple and low-stress, but that had not turned out to be the case.  In fact you might say that it turned out to be exactly the opposite of the case.  As the date approached she had become incredibly stressed out about the minutia of every aspect of the day to the point where the day before the wedding, the idea of jumping ship and running away to Mexico was starting to sound really good.
I hadn’t run away to Mexico, obviously, but the option still loomed.  
We chose to have our reception at our house, which in hindsight wasn’t a great idea.  I’d powered through the exhaustive preparations with as much poise as I could muster.  We spent a really long time looking at pictures of cakes before selecting one.  We selected the perfect bit of music to play during the walk down, and the subsequent walk back up, the isle.  We agonized over color schemes and font choices and proper wording for invites, each of which needed a ribbon to be tied a certain way.  We spent a lot of energy on meticulously crafted center pieces with bedazzled floating candles and little gelatinous water-beads.  We cleaned the house until the vacuum cleaner became an extension of my will.  We arranged for the food to be catered.  We spent exorbitant amounts of money.    
We picked up a hundred chairs that weren’t good enough, dropped off of those chairs and picked up different ones from a different place, all with a rented U-Haul that had to be out of the driveway before the reception.  I drove all over town looking for an unguarded dumpster to ditch a couple of bags of trash that couldn’t be seen laying around.  I really was doing my best to be helpful.  Despite all that, every time my bride-to-be looked at me, I got the stink-eye.  A lot of stink-eye.  
I wasn’t thinking of enough things to be busy with.  I wasn’t doing the things she wanted done fast enough.  At one point she caught me not doing wedding preparations.  I was in the backyard with her father, my father, Pat (the best man), his father, and a few other folks.  We were playing with a scale-model medieval trebuchet and using it to chuck rocks over the fence.  I think the only reason her head didn’t actually explode was that the energy was focused into lasers that fired out of her eyes and left scorch marks on the patio furniture.  Even her parents gave me sympathetic looks. 
Even in the worst of the thinly-veiled hostility being perpetrated in my direction, I managed to brush it off with the assurance that it was just pre-wedding stress and that it’s normal.  I expected it to a certain extent thanks to a largely Hollywood-based frame of reference, but it still blew my mind to see it in real life.  Wedding stress can do terrible things to a woman, evidently.  
Terrible things.  
Suffice to say, I was pretty well sick of preparing for the wedding.
~ Zachary Wakefield
Zach Wakefield is a family man from Vermont with many interests including a variety of musical instruments, electronic engineering and inventing, medieval weaponry, and creative writing.  He also manages a blog, aptly named ” Random Things to Read ” which he uses as a creative outlet or just a place to goof around with words.  Zach has also published a lovely little illustrated story-poem entitled ” Rutkin ” (an equally, if not as obviously, apt name)  which, as you’ll see if you click on the link there, is available on Amazon.

A picture says a thousand words

Below is a blog written by a client of ours. We are sharing because we support her journey and we love that photography has helped her in such a positive way

Yesterday I was able to see my photos from my photo shoot and I cried like a baby. Here’s why…  Before I took the pictures I tried talking to myself to get mentally ready for what was about to take place. I didn’t believe in what I was saying. I thought that if I think about the way that I wanted my pictures to look, and no matter how much I believed, how horrible they would look. That maybe some of those lies what I was telling myself would come through in the pictures. My whole life I have had people around me to tell me either I was ugly or pretty, most of the time it was ugly. I got picked on a lot because they said I was fat, black, and ugly. The three worst things to be in America. I always looked to them for validation for my beauty. I thought that if they could see and since so many people were saying it then it must be true. Since then my appearance has changed but honestly, my state of mind stayed the same. People would tell me that I looked good and that I’m pretty, but I didn’t see it. I’m thinking, they are just trying to make me feel better. They think I have low self-esteem. I have always had a great personality. And have always been crazy and “fun” to be around. But always have had a deep feeling that I’m still that ugly ass fat person from back in the day. I was scarred mentally.

I have never believed that my face was my face. I’ve taken thousands of selfies and usies, and I would always think that dang that’s a pretty picture but could still not convince myself it was me! AND I TOOK THE DAMN SELFIE!  Mentally I was messed up for real. I would always post them online and attach catchy phrases to them, people would like them but I still was in disbelief.

It wasn’t until yesterday that I realized that wow, that’s me. I am beautiful! All those years that I spent looking for validation from the world was a waste. I didn’t need to look for something that was already there. I have spent my life looking for acceptance in the pretty world.  I have been waiting for something that I would never get because the world is selfish and cares about itself. I have given and begged and pleaded with people for what I thought I needed.

I have made a damn FOOL of myself!

I prayed for a veil to be removed from my eyes for the longest but one was never there in the first place. I prayed for him to show me what other people see in me. I prayed for the wrong things. The blessing that I got yesterday was what God had been trying to give me for a long time. I ignored all the signs. I went through thickets and thorns to try and get it, but had to end up turning around every time because I got tired of fighting. Yesterday God gave me my forgiveness.

In the past it was hard for me to forgive people for what they had done to me and the nasty things they said and it took years of prayer, meditation and patience for me to be able to do that. In the midst of all of that I never stopped to think of all the bad things I had told myself and all of the verbal, and emotional stress I had put myself through. I had torn myself down so low that there was nowhere else to go. So I just sat at the bottom of my empty well. With all of my ugly thoughts and feelings. I gave demons a place to live. I continued on with my miserable life and made everyone around me happy and never wanted anything more for myself because I felt unworthy. I felt like I didn’t deserve it. And I didn’t! How stupid of me to wait for someone else to try and convince me that I deserve better. How stupid of me to try and wait for someone to love me because of how I treat them and I treated myself like shit. How STUPID!!

Sometimes we want what we aren’t capable of understanding and handling. So God has to position us and take us through things the long way for us to realize the truth and beauty in what he wanted us to see that we really needed “this” all along. We think that we know it all. What we think we know is not always what it really is. We ask for things that we already have and either second guess the things that we really need or dismiss it all together.

I never asked God to help me to forgive myself for being such a bad person to me. I got that yesterday. In the form of a picture. I was able to see who I am. Who I had always been. Who I never told myself I was. I saw the woman whom I never acknowledged. Whom I never cared about. Whom I always judged. whom I always pitied. Whom I always lied to. Whom I always abused. Whom I always neglected. Whom I always put last and not first. Whom always waited her turn. Whom always accepted less than what she actually deserved. whom always gave and had nothing to give. The friend and never girlfriend. The side dish and never the main course. The spender and never the saver. I robbed myself of my own love and my own happiness. I was never able to let the hate that I had for myself go.

A picture woke me up. A picture made me change my perception of me. A picture changed everything about my life. A picture says a thousand words. A single picture.

~ Melissa Washington

To follow Melissas journey, go to her website at http://www.melissalwashington.com

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑