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The Reason I Cried

Grace

By Odette RhodesPublished 6 years ago 5 min read
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It wasn’t until the music that they chose started playing that I realized how moved I was about to become.

My little brothers and I had grown closer throughout our years entering adulthood. He is six years my junior and as a teenager I was lost in a swirl of anger and confusion. Our mother had been given the job of acting as both parents on top of trying to continue creating her own life. I was navigating a middle and high school where I never felt that I fit and began realizing my sexual orientation was not the same as everyone else around me. My brother was busy with struggles of his own as he developed his identity and sense of self without the frequency presence of our father.

Now he was standing at over six foot at the end of an alter as my daddy walked me to my spot as a bridesmaid. From there I watched as the man he had grown into began to weep as he laid eyes on his bride.

I felt the heat of my core rise as tears gathered in my eyes. How could it be that this man I was looking at was the same little boy that my single mother and I danced with in our living room? How could it be that there was so much Grace in one room that my daddy stood up amongst my brothers groomsmen and stepdad when he had chosen not to stand up 21 years prior? How could it be that the Grace was extended even further in that my father was alive and present after we almost lost him months prior to a major health issue? How could it be that I looked over and saw my future wife sitting in this room being embraced by our family and friends?

Tears began to fall as my future sister-in-law walked down the isle and stood confidently by my brother. They held hands as vows, rings and blessings were exchanged. My brothers voiced cracking over the gravity of the words he spoke. As the words “I now present Mr. & Mrs. Andrew Lackey” were spoke I reflected on all the lessons learned and heartaches felt from mine and Andrews childhood; as well as insurmountable fun had.

In that room full of imperfect people everything somehow felt more than perfect.

The night continued with the presentation of the new couple and their first dance together. I watched as they whispered to one another, inevitably about the disbelief in the fact that they are now officially married. The DJ then called for my mother to step in for a dance with her son. I watched as they danced and tears fell from both my mothers and my brothers face. My mother wiping each tear from my brothers face as she talked to him softly. I imagined the words she said to him, telling him how swollen with pride she was and how he’ll always be her baby for as long as she lives. By this point I had continued my shedding of tears watching my mother and her baby boy dancing just as they had in my childhood living rooms. Those dances were usually the result of mother needing release from the overwhelming stress and uncertainty she faced on a daily basis as she tried and succeeded at providing for us. This dance was different. Now she danced with the man her son grew into as he starts his own journey of creating a family and working to not make the same mistakes as his father made. Now is his time to create a world of his own along with new traditions, rituals and practices that will allow him to create the life he wishes to lead.

I watch as the song comes to an end and they slowly let go of one another. It’s hard for both of them, but for my mother, she not only let’s go of the child she raised but she also let’s go of the world she knew. 21 years have passed and she has done her job and some. At 55 it’s now time for her to live instead of just survive. She created an empire and a legacy and the time had come to rest.

Next was my time to dance with my daddy. He took my hand and wrapped his arm around me. This time I felt him less resistant than in the past. This dance he felt less awkward and felt more so conscious of his gratitude that he gets to dance than conscious of the perspectives of others around. We danced as we exchanged recollections of the past. As I looked in his eyes I also looked in a mirror. His eyes are my own and our similarities didn’t stop at our physical characteristics.

The music played on as we all danced our way through the night. I watched as my mother and her sisters reminisced about untold nights of troublemaking. I watched as my future wife danced with my brother and his bride and thought of the days when I wondered about the possible rejection from my family I might soon face. Looking now it seemed hard to fathom a thought such as that. Family is a strange, complex organism and mine was was one that will continue to be ever changing but one thing I know for sure is that whatever they are, they and I are the same.

- Ode to my family of three that taught me the true meaning of Grace and Love.

My Little Brother

My Beautiful Mother

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About the Creator

Odette Rhodes

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