My dad got engaged. The last time he got married was in like 1967. So it’s been almost 50 years. You can’t say he’s rushing into marriage again.
I actually knew his fiancée before he did – through Rick’s family here is South Florida. So they met when we moved to Florida (and my dad came along with us).
I was really worried about my dad acclimating to Florida. Here was a guy who had spent most of his life in Massachusetts. He loves the Red Socks, still says “wicked” and lived a quiet life on Cape Cod. How was he going to like the hot sunshine, palm trees and Disney quality of South Florida? Plus, he basically didn’t know anyone in Florida besides us.
Well, it took him about 3 minutes to adjust. (I’m still working on it.)
And his fiancé was a huge part of that. They are two kindred souls and I’m very happy they found each other. She’s just the kind of person I aways hoped he’d find.
When I was growing up, I always wanted both my parents to remarry. I didn’t have that longing to see them back together but I wanted them to find someone, so I wouldn’t have to worry about them so much.
Over the years, as I got older, I realized that I couldn’t be responsible for my mother’s or my father’s happiness or destinies. They each had to take their own path. And they found their own way.
My dad says he is going to have a very, very, very, very, very small wedding.
Which is fine by me as long as there is room for one flower girl, two ring bearers and 2 junior bridesmaids (you know, my kids).
5 year old Harlowe is desperate for a flower girl position before her flower girl window closes. Whenever someone comes by the house who could even potentially get married, she throws rose petals at their feet.
She’s already got the dress. And the flower girl look.
Now all we need is a wedding date. No pressure.