If I'm So Happy, Why Am I Crying?

For the last couple of weeks, I have been an emotional basket case. I'm weepy by nature anyway, but sappy commercials, sad stories, and even certain music are causing me to cry like a little girl.

Case in point - I was watching Dancing with the Stars last night, and started sobbing when Kelly Osborne ran across the dance floor to hug her dad. And then when I saw Sharon - I lost it. I'm tearing up while I'm writing this. I want to tell me SUCK IT UP YA BIG BABY!

I know that's it's probably all due to this wedding thing coming up this weekend, and the emotional cocktail I've been swimming in is finally catching up to me. (Mmmm, cocktails).

On one hand, I'm all happy and in lurve and looking forward to getting married to a great guy who has been my rock lo these last couple of years. On the other hand, planning a wedding is great fun overall, but my gawd the details can kill your buzz faster than you can say "chocolate fountain" (which we aren't having - white dress + melted chocolate + klutzy bride = dry cleaning nightmare).

And yes, I know, I shouldn't get bogged down in the minutae and but should focus on the big picture. However, certain things must be addressed, like who is sitting where and what are we eating, and we might want to pick a song for the bridal party dance.

Of course, the fact that not only will I be missing some important members of my family doesn't help with the waterworks.

I miss my mom a lot, but lately I've missed even more. She never got to see me get married. Brian and I eloped, and then we told our parents. When we went home to introduce her to her new son-in-law, she told me she had an eye doctor appointment the following week, because her eyes were starting to see double images. She received her MS diagnosis a couple of weeks later.

We didn't have a close relationship when I was a teenager, but after I was married and had Jessica, we began to get close. She told me about her childhood, and how it shaped her and affected her parenting. Having a child of my own, I began to appreciate how hard raising a kid can be. She apologized for her actions, and I apologized for not being a good kid. And then she was gone. Five years after her diagnosis. The MS attacked her brain and never relented.

So on Saturday morning, I will pin her wedding ring inside my dress as my something old, spritz on a little of her signature scent, Chanel No. 5, and walk out with my dad, missing her but knowing that I am the daughter she can finally be proud of.