Here Comes the Bride

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COCOA BEACH, FLA. — Finally, the day of the wedding arrived, though it still seemed as if the appointed hour might never come. My son-in-law Matt and I spent a few fascinating hours touring the Kennedy Space Center visitor’s complex at Cape Canaveral, driving over in the Mustang convertible he rented. My Beautiful Mystery Companion, daughter Abbie and I got dressed well ahead of time, in casual attire (though the women, of course, looked stunning), and then walked over to the pier on which the ceremony would take place. At 4 p.m. my oldest daughter Kasey would marry Jeff Willett and take his last name. A longtime family friend and preacher would perform the simple ceremony while about 40 or so family and friends attended.

Finally, it was time. Everyone except the bride, who as tradition dictates remained hidden, made their way through a confusing labyrinth of restaurants that anchor one end of the pier. Mid-afternoon beer drinkers gazing at NASCAR on flat-screen televisions turned their heads as we ambled through. A wrong turn led a few of us into the wrong restaurant, and we had to be redirected to get out to the exit to the pier. I was instructed by the wedding planner to stay by the door. Kasey’s stepfather, Lynn, and I would each escort her from that door to the bamboo arch set up for the ceremony.

Her younger sister, Mere, arrived first. She was the bridesmaid, of course, and would precede us down the pier. She wore a crimson dress and looked glamorous. I called her Goose when she was growing up, though I rarely do anymore. Ironically, since Jeff, the groom, knew her when she was a young teenager, he is the only one who can still get away with using that nickname.

Then Kasey arrived, looking more beautiful than ever. Of course I am supposed to say that, being the proud father of the bride. But she glowed, down to her bare feet. I worried to myself about her getting a splinter walking down the pier but kept quiet. Her dress was perfect — simple, sleeveless, pearl white, knee-high. I have never seen her look happier.

A guitarist played Pachelbel’s “Canon” as we walked down the pier. The barflies were ordered to stay inside the restaurant on the beach side of the pier. There is also a bar at the ocean end of the pier. Those patrons were also told to stay put until the ceremony concluded. A couple of unshaven good ol’ boys with fishing poles and longnecks walking through while vows were exchanged would definitely upset the ambiance.

We arrived at the arch. Lynn and I each received a kiss from Kasey and stepped back, our duties concluded. There was no “Who gives away this bride?” I was relieved to learn this ahead of time. For one thing, Kasey definitely wasn’t mine to give away, not at age 35. Besides, I always considered the question rather anachronistic.

It was a lovely, simple ceremony. Jeff was predictably nervous and adorably flubbed a line or two. In the background below, sunbathers stretched out along the tan sands of the beach that give the place its name. After unseasonably cool weather a few days earlier when we arrived, temperatures were chamber-of-commerce perfect. Soon, Rev. Jan pronounced the couple married. Once again, I was a father of a bride. The party could begin.

The week before, my mind wandered back through memories of Kasey’s childhood. How she could sleep in a corner as a toddler through a loud party with a stereo blaring. A photo of her, at about 2, sitting on a back-porch swing with her late godfather Michael. Michael died far too young of lung cancer at 36. Teaching her to drive a stick shift when she was 13 in the pasture behind our house.Kasey performing at halftime as a member of the Lufkin Panther Pride drill team. Graduating from the University of Texas, having made just one “B” in four years.

My marriage to Kasey and Mere’s mom ended when Kasey was 12, but we continued to raise our daughters with one voice. “We did a good job,” I told her at the rehearsal dinner. And, of course, she and Mere handled much of the wedding details. I just had to show up.

Jeff will make a fine son-in-law and a good husband. I am confident of that and grateful that he loves my daughter. What more could a dad ask?

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