As I hold the locket in my hand, I am reminded of the first time that I wore it. Our daughter Madison’s wedding day. A day of excitement, joy and expectation but with a background of profound sadness.
We refer to the wedding as the “24 Hour Wedding.” Borrowed dress and veil, maid-of-honour dress purchased, two tier cake baked and decorated, bouquets for the bride and maid-of-honour, corsages and boutonnieres made, arrangements for guitar accompaniment and refreshments, flower girl and ring bearer selected, rings purchased and marriage license procured and all done in one day, Monday, December 31. The wedding would be Tuesday, January 1.
Our daughter Natalie was diagnosed with stage 4 breast cancer in July, underwent chemotherapy and radiation treatments and followup tests indicated that there was no visible evidence of cancer. This good news came in early December and now in late December, she was dying. We knew that the cancer would return but not this soon.
Madison and Natalie were the best of friends and Madison had her heart set on having Natalie as the maid-of-honour at her wedding. We had left Ottawa to be with our daughter from the beginning of this ordeal and now it would be through the efforts of Natalie’s friends and hospital staff that Madison’s wish would be fulfilled. The wedding would take place in the lounge area of the third floor oncology wing of the hospital.
On the day of the wedding, once spinal fluid was drained, Natalie was without pain and nausea, fully alert and looking forward to taking part in the wedding. She wanted to be at her best and was dismissive of the black flats that Madison and I selected for her. She wanted heels. When the bag of shoes arrived, a friend looked in the bag and said “Oh, her favourites” as she took out a pair of black, opened toed, four inch heels.
The wedding and reception were joyous with Natalie being fully aware and involved in all that took place but hours later she was unresponsive. On their wedding night, Madison and her husband were called to return to the hospital. It would be several days before Natalie passed.
I wore the silver locket for the first wedding, for the second wedding celebration in August and every day and every night for weeks, months and years until deciding that I would wear it on special occasions and events that remind me of Natalie. It contains a lock of what was once her long, thick, chestnut coloured hair.
As we prepare to go out to dinner with extended family to celebrate Natalie’s life on what would have been her birthday, I hold the locket in my hand and remember, before clasping the locket around my neck.