I am so sad today. Recently some friends have been sharing their wedding photos and my first thought was “I used to be married once.” It seems so long ago. I used to be married once.  My brain wants to reject this sadness. In between intermittent tears, I dream of my second wedding.

I am sad.

I imagine my new husband holding me with his hand on the small of my back, on the dance floor, kissing my forehead, loving me.

I am sad.

My new husband and I are beyond in love, we are ecstatic.

I am sad.

I wonder if forty-eight is too old to have bridesmaids. The pain of my loss is trumped by rhapsodic emotions of my dream wedding.

I am sad.

In my fantasy I can almost feel the white concoction of tulle and lace against my bare legs.

I am sad.

The thought of being in love again, not just in love but in deep commitment helps curb my sadness. I don’t know if I ever want to get married again but I do know I want a wedding; a bright, shiny, love-filled wedding. The participants of this candy colored concoction have yet to be notified, including the groom but soon enough they’ll know.

I have never been so sad and thinking about a fanciful day filled with “pretties” makes me less sad. So I delve into the corners of my mind and fantasize about THE day. The day that I am so deeply in love that it will eclipse some of my sadness. The day that a boy will choose me, over all of his baggage and fear that forty-something boys have, over all of the other women he has had in his life.  He will simply choose me and I will choose him. In my fantasy my children are old enough to legally partake in the celebratory champagne toasts but smart enough not to get shit-faced in front of their mom and their  new step-dad.

I am so very sad today so I long for another, better day.