I can still remember watching the home movies of my parents' wedding. We would take out the projector, dig out the movie screen from the back of the closet, and settle in for a living room night of reel-to-reel films. The movies were silent, half the fun was reading lips or hearing my parents tell us what was being said. During the wedding film, though, no captions were needed as I could clearly read my mom's lips right after they exited the church.

"I'm freezing," she shivered as the wind whipped her small veil to the side of her face. It was May in Boston and still the weather was not cooperating. Over the years, I would always hear stories of that day from her and my godmother. How my dad was up and dressed hours before the big event. 

"I'm getting married, today" he stated when my Aunt Louise asked him what he was doing walking around outside her house at 11 am dressed in his tuxedo (the ceremony was at 2pm.). Later, as the newlyweds got into the car after the wedding, my dad smacked his head on the door frame.

"Wait for it," my mom would say as we watched the playback. BOOM. There it was. Funny, not so funny.

So, as October 13th quickly approaches, I've been thinking about that short film a lot and missing my mom. Not that I don't miss my mom every day. It's just that these days, I feel her loss more than ever. What I wouldn't give to see her sitting at the ceremony. She was always my biggest supporter. Even when I made decisions that broke her heart, like moving to California, she never once tried to talk me out of it. Years later, when I dabbled in drag, she came to a contest I had entered and I could hear her applause and voice above all others.

"Are you his mother?" some big bear of a man asked her after I walked out on stage and she was applauding along with my friends.

"I most certainly am!" she answered back. He gave her a huge bear hug and disappeared. She told me she would never forget that moment as long as she lived.

There wasn't a major moment in my life that I didn't share with her. It was only once, when I was taking shelter from bullets in Cancun, thinking that my life was over, that my first thought was, "I'm glad my mom is gone." Her knowing the paralyzing fear of that afternoon would have been too much for her. It was almost too much for me.

Moving to Texas would have been a surprise for her. She loved California as much as I did, but she would have supported my move, and how she would have adored John. There would be no question of his character to her, but if on the off-chance something bothered her, I would have known. She was never good at truly hiding what she thought of someone.

During the ceremony, I wanted to find ways to honor her and from our rings to other small touches throughout the ceremony and reception, there will be nods to her memory. I won't have to imagine her sitting in the crowd showing her support, I'll feel her with me from the moment I wake up that day. The days since she's been gone have not been the same, you think you'll heal from the hole that's left in your heart, but you just find other ways to keep moving. A great friend of mine told me this once and I gladly plagiarize it.

We remember those days so well…first they are and now they were. Glad we lived them… and keep them forever in our hearts.

In three weeks, I'll say to no one in particular, "I'm getting married today."  And somewhere, I will feel a big hug from my mom to get me through the day.