Saying goodbye to the dress

It's taken me a week to really process this and be able to write about it, and still I'm not sure that I'm especially clear-thoughted enough to be doing it. You can let me know.

Last weekend brought with it a rearranging of our bedroom closet. In doing that, I decided to decide what to do with my wedding dress.

I'd put it there nearly 20 years ago, thinking, as most new brides probably do, that maybe I'd wear it again (vow renewal?), or a child might want to wear it (not my own, certainly, as I never planned for those). And there it's sat--or rather, hung--in the dark, in the back corner, still as could be, with no real energy emanating from it at all, despite it's beautiful design, and amazing hand beadedness.

It was even still when I pulled it out of the corner, and into the light of our bedroom. I held it at eye level, looking at it as if it would suddenly tell me what to do. I finally decided to put it on, and that's where the stillness ended.

What flooded back to me were intense and vivid memories of our wedding, and of our reception. Of how I'd flubbed my vows. Of the love that filled the space that night. Of people who were there who are no longer alive. And then, the juxtaposed memories of my first dance as a married woman with Dominic, and the last dance I ever shared with my father--who died two months later.

At the time, of course, I didn't know that it would be our last dance. If I had, I might have paid closer attention to the details of it. Of how his tux felt under my cheek as I rested it against his shoulder, or of how his lips felt as he kissed my head.

I shuffled in to D's office, like a little girl playing dress-up, holding the dress together at the back because it's now way too big for me. He loved me up as he saw me standing there, tears streaming down my cheeks. He didn't say much--he didn't need to.

Back in our bedroom, I slowly decided what to do with the dress. As I hung it back on its hanger, I did up all the buttons on the back. There were 19, I noticed... and a twentieth if I counted the button for the bustle. I found it odd that I didn't know that, then realized that the only times I'd been near the buttons were when the dress was on me and someone else was tending to them. Still.

I put it back in plastic, and hung if off D's top dresser drawer. I slowly sunk into our bed, where I looked and looked at it.

The decision? To give it to Good Will.

The hope? That some beautiful fat girl who couldn't afford such a dress would buy it and love it, and maybe she would have children to give it to. 

It felt right, that decision. And when I'd had my fill of the dress, I put it in another bag, and sat that by the front door.

Later that afternoon, D and I drove the dress and some other gently used items to the donation center. I couldn't bring myself to do anything but stand by the car and let D take it all over to the platform. I watched as the attendant picked up the bag I'd put the dress in, and carried it out of sight to deposit it in the trailer. For a moment, I wanted to run over, tell the man I'd made an awful mistake and get it back--for what, I haven't a clue. But I didn't. Instead, I took a deep breath, turned and got into the car, and drove away, whispering a silly thing that I used to say as a little girl, anytime I left behind a place or person I'd loved..."Goodbye, dress... I'll miss you."

Comments

[Robyn]

Oh for goodness sake! Even though I'm working feverishly toward a deadline, for some reason I was drawn to your post because I never had to decide what to do with my dress since I rented it. But I sit here now and I can vividly picture each and every step of this emotional journey with you and as the tears stream down my face, I'm blown away at the vividness of remembering my wedding day and all these same things arose picture-perfect in my mind and I think of all those who shared that very happy day with me and are no longer here--including my parents, sister and husband. Thank you for once again barely your soul down to the core in such a deeply moving way. You rock my world every now and then! xoxo

[Alicia]

My story is so different. My wedding dress was a street-length ivory jacquard silk. As my dad had passed on when I was 14, there was no connection between him and my wedding memories except for the void. It was my family's first celebratory event since my mother's non-fatal stroke and the selling of her business and our family home. So many mixed emotions that day!

Six months later we moved in with my in-laws to care for my mother-in-law for what turned out to be her last 10 months of life. My dress went into a spare room closet with some of her out of season clothing. It was gone when we moved a few years later. I was distraught with the belief that my sister-in-law, who was angry and jealous of my good relationship with my mother-in-law, had sent it to Goodwill with her mother's items when she cleaned out the closet a few days after her mother's death. Most of our formal wedding photos, along with the negatives, had been ruined by an accident before prints could be ordered so having no photos to remind me on display, I think having the dress itself meant even more. I was very glad that I'd thought to take several photos of it myself, including a close up of the fabric.

Fast forward twenty years: while cleaning out clothes I'll no longer wear, I discovered my dress in what I'd thought was an empty garment bag along with two other special occasion dresses. I was so happy to find it, but more so for the opportunity to release my lingering resentment than for getting back the dress itself (which being a few sizes different than my current one is unlikely to be worn again by me.) Celebrating our anniversary this week, remembering our wedding, and thinking of the years of mourning its loss, I realized I can look at it now as just a dress.

Still, I'm not quite ready to say..."Goodbye, dress...I'll miss you." Maybe next year for our 25th...

[Ann]

Anastacia, I absolutely love your blog for so many reasons! Your style of writing. Your transparency. Your depth. My wedding dress has hung on the back of a door for the past 17 years. I know I won't wear it again for vow renewal because I was 6 months pregnant at the time of my marriage. I don't have a daughter to hand it down to because I was blessed only with sons. But, for some reason, I can't bear to part with it. Shortly after my husband and I married, we separated. My dress was in the dry cleaners and I decided to abandon it. Eight months after our separation, we reconciled and my husband retrieved my dress from the dry cleaners. It touched me. Maybe, that's why I can't let go of it. But, I have the memory...I have that moment...I have my husband. It's time to let the dress go.

[Sharon Broughton]

What a beautiful and moving post. I cried as I read it as I still have my own wedding dress in the dark recesses of my closet--and don't know what to do with it. I don't think my daughters will want to wear it but I can't part with it quite yet. I think they would be mad if I gave it away because they are very sentimental (well, at least Lisa is).
Maybe I will know once I actually file for divorce and conclude that part of my life once and for all. Not sure...

[Zia Hassan]

Moving post and such a great illustration of that mixed feeling of freedom and pain that happens when we let go of something that has sentimental value.

(AND, I know precisely how you feel and I've written about that exact same feeling. I hope you don't mind if I share this song here; your post really resonates with me and I feel like it's appropriate)

http://ziahassan.bandcamp.com/track/wrecking-ball-live

[High Heeled Mama]

Beautiful post. I have been avoiding cleaning the closet where my dress is stored for fear of being forced to deal with it. We just had our second son less than a year ago and for some reason, I was fine with two boys until the thought of giving up that dress, which is just plain silly since my mother had two girls and neither of us wore any part of her dress. It's amazing the power these dresses have over us.

[Laura]

Im not quite sure why this caught my eye,but it did and I started to think about my own wedding attire.It was a lovely summer linen circle skirt with an oversized lightwieght jacket that moved more gracefully then standard linen.The blouse was incredibly styled big and loose gauze that had bits of torn linen that was frayed on the edges and piece mealed over its entirety resembling lace from a distance.It was so me and I wore it far past the life of my marriage.To everyday occasions because I had wanted it to be part of me always and not just for one day.When the shirt finally disinegrated in the wash and I pulled it up bit by bit from the washer it was a time to reflect.The film of life once married passed by rapidly and none of it was painful or angry, it just was that part that had passed and that I was taking the good from it.Most importantly I reflected who I was at present compared to the past and was smiling for myself.
In the movie "Harold and Maude" with Ruth Gordon there was a scene when Harold gave Maude an engagement ring that she threw into the lake they sat by.Harold was in shock and asked why.Maude replyed then she would always know where it was.What feelings we share are inside always and the memory lets us visit.