Uncertainty

Let’s start at the beginning. It’s 2008, and it’s an absolutely perfect autumn day. The sun is shining and keeping us all warm, while a cool breeze rustles the red, orange, and yellow leaves of the tall oak and maple trees that surround us all. We’re a half of a mile into the forest and I’m wearing a dress and heels, wishing that I’d have worn flats. I’m sitting in a metal folding chair alongside Clint under a tall white awning staring up to where the judge is standing. Chis stands to his left with his hands in his front pockets, a huge grin spread across his face. 

Suddenly Kurt begins playing his acoustic guitar and the light hum of whispers from the crowd around us quiets.  It’s at that point that I see Dave, walking arm and arm with Jackie. Dave looks spectacular in his brown pinstriped suit and I’m in awe. I’ve never seen him look so beautiful. I feel so lucky and in love. Next comes Meg and one of Angela’s sisters, and then another two people who I’m not entirely familiar with. The crowd stands.

From behind an exquisitely decorated white and red privacy screen walks Angela in her flowing white gown. The back is stitched with an intricately flowing red floral design and in her hands she carries roses of the deepest red hue. She looks stunning. I look to Chris. Neither of them can stop smiling.

I am overwhelmed with joy and happiness for Chris and Angela, and when my eyes inevitably begin to swell with tears I quickly wipe them away. In their eyes I see nothing but the purest love.

Fast forward to spring of 2009. It’s a Saturday and I had to work. Dave is at his friend Matt E’s wedding with our friend John and I’m to meet them at the reception afterward. I speed to the old area of downtown Minneapolis, down the cobblestone streets along the Mississippi river. I park my car and find Dave and John just as they’re exiting the church. The bride and groom are just stepping into their horse drawn buggy and they’re both glowing.

At the reception no stone was left unturned. The food was amazing, the DJ played great music, there was an open bar and the venue was beyond words. High ceilings, dark wood, a huge outdoor patio, and gorgeous blooming flowers the size of dinner plates everywhere. It was another beautiful day with blue skies and green grass and everything made my heart smile. Later that evening tears would stream down my face when the bride and her father danced together. I always cry when I see brides with their fathers on their wedding day. I don’t know what my deal is.

Just a few short weeks later Dave and I found ourselves at another wedding: this one for his brother Dusty. It was an outdoor ceremony overlooking a lake, and again we couldn’t have asked for a more perfect day. Dave was a groomsmen and I sat in the crowd with Meg with a wad of kleenex balled in my hand and sun glasses covering my eyes. I cried when I saw Dusty, I cried when Dave walked down the aisle, and tears streamed down my face when I made eye contact with Kate, Dusty’s bride. She, too, was crying. The ceremony was short and sweet. At the end of the ceremony the song "Celebration" by Kool and The Gang blasted from a stereo, everybody laughed hysterically, and the wedding party walked back down the aisle- everybody smiling.

Now let’s really jump ahead. It’s December of 2009. A lot has changed. Dave and I lived together for six months and things didn’t go according to plan. In my head I’d assumed that we’d move in together and everything would just fall into place just as it was supposed to- just as everything else had. I figured we’d live together for a couple of years, get engaged, and have a beautiful wedding of our own. I’d have a child sometime around the age of 30. We’d be happy and in love and I’d have my career and everything would be perfect.

Instead I had just moved in to the attic of a strangers house- a girl who I’d met on craigslist. Dave and I had broken up and reconciled, but instead of moving forward we had taken a few steps back. I was attempting to work through a pretty dark period of depression brought on by our problems. Dave had told me that he wasn’t sure about me, about us. He didn’t feel like I did. He doesn’t feel like I do. He’s willing to try, but he just.isn’t.sure. Oh, and contrary to what he told me at the beginning of our relationship, he’s decided that he’s just not sure that he ever wants children.

I’m at my cousins wedding and I feel annoyed and bitter. Everything was cheesy- the music that she chose to walk down the aisle to, the fact that all of the bridesmaids wore tacky gem snowflake tattoos on their backs. I judged the whole thing internally; every little detail was scrutinized. The food was cold and bland, the DJ played lame music, the fact that they made all of the veterans stand up during the reception so that  my other cousin could belt out the lyrics to "I’m Proud to be an American" over the top of a seedy, crackly recording of the music  blaring from a loudspeaker- it was all so incredibly stupid. None of these are things that I’d do at MY wedding,

Hah! My wedding. What the fuck am I talking about, anyway? What am I thinking? Whfat if I never get married? Dave doesn’t want to marry me. He doesn’t even want to live with me.

Instead of happiness and joy and love I feel sorrow. I don’t cry when I see my cousin, the bride. I don’t cry when I make eye contact with my aunt, her mother. Tears only well up in my eyes when I start thinking of my own life and of my love for Dave. Tears only fall down my face when I start thinking about my future and how uncertain everything is. Dave doesn’t grab my knee. Dave seems uncomfortable.

Saturday Dave and I found ourselves at another wedding- this time it was for his old friend Matt B.

When we entered the church we sat next to Nick and Jackie. Nick said something to Dave about us all being at another wedding together and Dave jokingly said, "So are you thinking about making this happen for the two of you any time soon? Huh? Huh?" He smiled. Nick promptly clamped his lips tightly together and shook his head ‘no’. Jackie smiled at me. They’ve been dating for something like seven years and living together for probably close to five. They’ve had a very rocky relationship, themselves… but they own a home together and neither of them are going anywhere.

I smiled back. Dave said, "Heh, me either!" I continued to smile, but felt my heart drop a little. This I knew, this I expected- I don’t think that it’d be smart for us to get married any time soon anyway, but hearing him say it- joke about it- still made me sad.

This wedding and reception was just as beautiful as the others that we’d been to for Dave’s friends. The ceremony itself was a full Catholic mass held in the chapel of my University’s brother school. It was like nothing that I’d ever seen. The wedding party walked down the aisle to "Ave Maria", one of the most beautifully haunting songs that I’ve ever had the pleasure of listening to- and the woman singing it did an amazing job. Her voice. Her voice.

The br

ide walked down to Canon in D. When I was in high school I had that song burned to a CD and I used to listen to it in my car sometimes on my way to school. It always moved me, always brought tears to my eyes. This time: nothing. When I leaned onto Dave’s shoulder he leaned forward. When I grabbed his knee and he ignored it. He anxiously chewed his gum. I put my hand back onto my own lap, and stared at the ceiling.

The reception was held at an old depot in downtown St Paul. Again, beautiful high ceilings. Old world charm. Greek food was served and it was exquisite. Wine service was served at the table. Matt’s new wife looked so unbelievably ethereal and Matt literally shined with happiness. When Matt made his speech his new wife cried. When it was time for her speech she couldn’t speak and only said, "Thank you", in a high pitched, choked-up voice. Everybody smiled and there wasn’t a dry eye in the house.

With the exception of mine, of course. Mine and Dave’s.

Later in the evening Dave and I went up to talk to Matt, who was still glowing in every way. He tightly shook Dave’s hand and said, "You’re next, bud!"

Dave smiled and began to say something, but I butted in with a smile on my face, "Hah! That’s not happening."

I may have sounded sarcastic. Nothing more was said on the subject. Dave didn’t even acknowledge my comment. He and Matt spoke a few more words, and then we all parted ways.

All of Dave’s old group of friends were in the wedding party. Dave was pretty bitter because he was not. This could explain why he acted the way that he did during the particular wedding. I feel that I should add that.

I don’t know why I’m writing all of this, but I’ve felt the need to ever since Saturday. At first I’d only intended to write about how sad I felt at Matt B’s wedding and how the only wells of emotion that I felt were directed at the uncertainty of my own future and not over the sheer joy of getting to witness the pure, unadulterated love that exists in a wedding. Only after I sat down and began writing about it did I realize how much things have changed over the last two years. Only then did I feel the need to go all the way back to 2008.

I realize that relationships ebb and flow. I realize that things can’t always be perfect. I realize that relationships take work and that we are both willing to try. But lately I can’t help but feel like I’m missing out on something. I’m not ready to jump ship- I love Dave with all of my heart and don’t doubt for a second that he loves me too- I’m just worried that I’m waiting in vain. And I’m having trouble putting language to it.

I want to see us work through our problems. I want to feel good about our future again. I want to believe that I am loved unconditionally that even if things aren’t perfect right now that they will someday be okay, again. I want him to believe in our future too. I don’t want to coast anymore, I want to be working towards something.

How does one explain how horrible uncertainty can feel? How does one spell out the pain of not knowing? The worry and hurt that I feel in not only wondering but knowing full and well that my love is more powerful, intense, and pure than his is for me and that there is nothing that I can do to change that. And there really is nothing that I can do. Aside from wait. So that’s what I’m doing. I’m waiting. Waiting for him to see me, to really see me for everything that I am and to accept me completely, or to see me and make the decision, once and for all, to let me go.

And now I’m crying again.