The Wedding Story

Charlie and I went to a favorite antique store of mine in Racine, Wisconsin late in the afternoon sometime in early Fall. We had already been together a couple years, it must have been 2015. To know me at all is to understand my deep love and appreciation of wandering an antique mall or estate sale. It’s my Target. And I usually prefer to do this on my own or with an individual who can go at the same pace as me. My mom is that person. We have the same museum walk. This translates to the same antique or furniture store stroll. We’re comfortable separating and coming back together to discuss what we’ve learned or found. We can spend hours digging, reading, looking. But on this day, sweet Charlie graced me with his antique mall presence. He was a good sport, too. This isn’t his type of hang and it doesn’t need to be. It’s mine. 

One thing to note about Charlie is how he can always find something. A resort gift shop will hold a treasured shot glass the same way the gas station offers the blueberry Red Bull or Gardetto’s rye chips. He’s not one to leave empty handed. This specific antique mall is set in an old school building. The classrooms and gymnasium are jam packed, as they should be. And some items change or sell and some pieces have been there for years. Pretty early into our tour of the mall he found a huge framed lithograph telling the story of a pig in a hot air balloon. I only half remember what it looks like now, but he had to get it. We were still in college but we agreed this would be perfect in a nursery someday. We didn’t leave empty handed. It’s been waiting to be hung for almost 7 years now.

There was never a discussion of “Should we? Will we?” we always knew our future was together. Marriage was in the cards. We knew we would have a family.
We were letting it unfold. 

Charlie and I met in college. We both enrolled in Professor Trenton Baylor’s 3D Art class and an art history class. We chatted lightly for a few classes before us deciding we should study for our art history class together. Charlie said he would pick me up. Ok, I said, I’ll see you then. Before he arrived at my parents house, he asked if my hair would be okay in a convertible. He said he planned to borrow his moms car for the evening.

Uh, absolutely it will be ok. Top down, baby, let’s go. 

Who asks something like that? 

I was already floored by how accommodating the question was. Maybe that says something about what I was expecting at the time, or maybe it really is that considerate. Regardless, Charlie always has been and always will be aware of the needs of others. When he picked me up, we quickly pivoted from studying and instead smoked and went out to dinner. We picked at tacos in between first date laughs. Our hair windblown and disheveled, our eyes red. This was two or three weeks after we met. He waited until he was able to meet my dad before formally asking me to be his girlfriend. Never looked back. Forward, together.

Charlie proposed to me on our 6th anniversary on October 19, 2019. We booked a pet-friendly Airbnb an hour outside of Chicago. I knew a proposal would happen at some point, but there was never a definitive when. It was in the cards but we hadn’t shuffled the deck yet. His question, a beautiful ring, our butts sand-covered at the Indiana Dunes, took me by surprise. But the idea of marriage was no surprise. Just like living together and dreaming of our someday family, marriage was a step we wanted to take. Charlie makes me feel so seen and I couldn’t ask for anything more. 

When you start dating someone at a young age, you need to grow on your own and hope the person you love can grow on their own, too. Ideally, you’re still a good fit. Of course, we also inevitably grow together. We’re intertwined like necklaces thrown into a carry-on bag. We can be difficult to separate, but good once our chains are untangled and on our own. I need us to be two pillars holding up mutual and individual dreams. I need him to be him and grow into himself for the rest of his life. I will do the same. We honor the past versions of who we once were while leaving the door open for who we will become. 

We celebrated our next step in life by hugging and crying together at the beach. Families walked past as we all basked in the unusually warm October day. A little secret only we knew, a promise of forever made by two people. We headed to the car, grabbed a celebratory beer at the first bar we saw, and then stopped by the most authentic taco spot we could find. We danced and devoured tacos and drank champagne at the Airbnb with our cat. 

Our dream wedding was to have a giant house party. Our love is cozy in a shoes off kind of way. I knew we could plan an event to share this fuzzy blanket with those closest to us. Our first venue tour was an estate in Champaign, Illinois. We picked this place years ago. Before rings were made and proposals were given. This was our venue, we thought. Charlie just picked up a his new car and the 7 hour round trip drive suddenly didn’t seem so daunting with a fresh ride. Add in a surprise severe snowstorm and some white knuckle driving and we pulled into the parking lot. This was the weekend before the world went into Covid-19 lockdown. We didn’t shake the hand of the owner upon arrival and we kept our distance. We were tired from the drive and drained from the news of this transmittable virus. It felt far away, but it was still all most people could talk about. Sadly, in person, the venue didn’t provide the spark we were after. But we can make spark, right? After our tour, we drove to a nearby Taco Bell for some House Hunters-like pro’s and con’s discussion and 1 PM parking lot chalupas to rid the new car smell. I can’t remember how we left it or what the consensus was, but we drove home. Less snowy this time around, but it feels longer going home.

When we got home, we stayed. That was our last major outing for months. Grocery shopping felt like a momentous occasion. Turning our cars on every few days was an activity. Using our dining table as a makeshift ping pong table was inevitable. The wine flowed and the afternoon dance parties lasted into the friendly Zoom-filled evenings. The days were getting longer and the sun brighter but the world darker. I remember wearing a single-use mask to walk around the block for fresh air only to toss the mask as I exited the elevator and walked back into our apartment. Those early days of lockdown were tough and scary and it wasn't our time to plan a wedding.

At this time, Charlie and I were house hunting. Something we had been doing for a couple years. We had already put in 4 offers on homes with each offer being rejected. It proved to be an exhausting and exciting process, but mainly emotionally consuming. With each possible home, I drew the floorpan and considered our life happening within its walls knowing we only had hours if we wanted to make an offer. A few days after the Spring 2020 lockdown, a tudor home in Milwaukee’s East Side hit the market. The next day the listing was still active. In our two years of looking, we understood homes flew in less than a day. Almost a month later, the home was still marked available. The outside wasn’t an immediate hit for us and the interior photos looked dark, but we decided to schedule a tour. The flow of the space surprised us, the yard was large, and once the curtains were ripped open light filled the nearly 100 year old rooms. We moved in a couple months later.

Moving was a welcome change. We both felt so at home in our last apartment, we knew whatever home we decided on would have a lot to live up to. Our new space gave us a distraction, a project, and possibility. As our 7 year anniversary crept up on us, we had officially been engaged for one year. We had zero plans in place to move forward with a wedding. But marriage is something we both wanted. A party with our closest friends and family felt like a far off daydream. We toyed around with planning a destination wedding in New Orleans or Mexico only to have Covid numbers rise as the months grew colder. Frustrated, we reevaluated our wants. We wanted our day to feel unfussy and cozy but elegant and entirely unique to us. Why not have a wedding at home? At home, the party doesn't need to end by midnight. No masks required if we all properly quarantined before the event. We could select the food, drinks, music. Make it our own.

And so we got to work. We decided on February 20th 2021. A Winter wedding with an anniversary excuse to escape from the cold every year. 

My parents and Charlie’s parents were both surprisingly married at the same Catholic parish. While the church setting wasn't a huge need for the two of us, there was no doubt how special it was continuing this tradition. We met with the Priest, enrolled in an online Pre-Cana course, and booked a party bus for our family to transport us from Milwaukee to Wadsworth, Illinois for our big day. We started coming up with ideas for decor and food. We selected a dream photographer. Playlists were being worked on. Everything was shaping up — in our heads, of course — there was still so much to do. 

After months of looking, I found what was almost my dream dress online. I wanted something all silk with a Grecian drape to it. Ideally, it would be a dress I could someday wear again. I knew the style would work perfectly as a mini or midi after the wedding itself. If this is the most special dress I will ever wear, why not wear it again? 

The dress itself ended up taking nearly 2 months to be delivered — a far stretch from the original 1 week turnaround. Once it was delivered, I rushed upstairs to try it on. I came downstairs to show Charlie. Non-traditional and maybe even tacky to some, but I trust his opinion. We both agreed it was beautiful, it just needed a little tailoring. When I took the dress to the tailor, she noticed the lopsided hem. One side of the dress had a train, the other side did not. After back and forth with the company, they agreed to send additional fabric to have my tailor recreate the bottom portion of the dress. This was tough. It felt rushed. The tailor said they should be able to finish in time. While my dress was being worked on, my mom and sisters took me to an off the rack boutique in case my dress wasn't finished in time. Nothing spoke to me and compromise felt inevitable. I paid a hold fee on one of the dresses to satisfy my mom while I hoped my initial dress would be finished in time. I picked up my dress from the tailor just 2 days before the wedding.

A few months before February, I began sourcing chairs, plates, flatware, napkins, and all the bits needed to create an at home event. The majority of our needs could be met secondhand, which meant many hours spent scavenging at local thrift shops or driving hours to meet with a Facebook Marketplace dealer. For our dinner reception chairs, I borrowed my dad’s truck and drove 2 hours north to meet a man at his storage garage. Sometimes I think I’m a fucking idiot for being so trusting, but here we are, and there we’ve been. The seller was a sweet older gentleman selling off his old event rental business. He had about 80 bamboo folding chairs available. I loved the look and knew they would work for our wedding dinner and more events to come. He sat in his car while I went through the garage opening each chair, sitting on the chair, wiggling in the chair, inspecting for loose pieces of bamboo, and closing the chair. After an hour of opening, wiggling, closing, huffing, puffing I had the best pile of 25 chairs an afternoon and $100 could get me. He was also getting rid of a stack of white plates, so I snagged those and hit the road. I made a few antique mall stops on the way home picking out vases and champagne coupes. I enjoyed this part. I think of it as nesting for the wedding. I selected only items I wanted to use again and keep in my life rotation.

We envisioned using our attic space for dinner. I now had the perfect chairs for the space and knew we could dress up a few folding tables. But due to the below freezing weather and uninsulated space, we knew we needed to warm the large area in some way. I suggested we follow the height of the attic ceiling and tent the space with white fabric. We lined the walls with thick paint tarps as a stating point and my dad provided a couple space heaters. A few weeks before the wedding Charlie and I drove to every Jo-Ann Fabrics in the greater Milwaukee area purchasing all of their cheapest white cotton for tenting, yards of muslin for our table cloth, and a printed gingham fabric for the table runner. In total, we had at least 200 yards of fabric to work with. A moment of appreciation for the Jo-Ann digital coupons and checking out separately. 

During our home updates, we discussed our guest list. At this time, there was no vaccine and we felt like the world was in the thick of it all. We decided to do just immediate family and my grandparents. Health was a priority above all else. My grandma was set to be the flower girl and I couldn't wait to watch her walk down the aisle. We also wanted all our siblings and parents to walk down the aisle. We had no wedding party, but everyone was able to file into the church and set the scene. 

Leading up to the wedding, I was concerned with my parents family dog, Bella. My family was planning to stay in a rental house nearby our home — excuse me, venue — but Bella was getting to an age where she didn't travel well. We were struggling to find a solution for Bella’s weekend care. We came to the conclusion of my sister’s boyfriend checking in on Bella over the weekend and the plan seemed to work for all parties. I breathed a sigh of relief. Bella’s care was a important to everyone. 

The weekend before the wedding, Charlie and I had planned to tie up the odds and ends around the house. I had coffee with a friend on Saturday morning and as I was leaving and heading back home to tackle the house wedding venue, my dad called. Bella wasn't doing well and he thought we might need to say goodbye. As our family took her to the vet, we learned there wasn't much we could do. My heart hurt so badly thinking of the time I stressed wondering who will care for Bella, when now a week before we are saying our goodbyes. It was heartbreaking. My sister Mary and I stayed with Bella giving her kisses, treats, and love as the vet tech put her to sleep. Saying goodbye to a childhood pet is an awful, specific kind of hurt. I reflected on the very adult life step I was a week away from taking as I kissed a part of childhood goodbye. I didn't have much energy to decorate that weekend. 

A few days after we lost Bella, I learned my grandpa was in the hospital. It was serious and he would be unable to attend the wedding. Of course, my grandma stayed by his side. At this point, my dress was still being tailored, we lost our dog, and now my grandpa, one of my favorite people, was too sick to attend. I was feeling it. That week felt long, confusing, and questionable. We waited to plan this wedding because timing never felt right. And now here we are, having a wedding, and time still doesn't feel right. My heart was missing friends and extended family, my mind was constantly on my grandpa. But throughout all this, Charlie showed up for me. Above all else, and regardless of timing, I wanted to marry Charlie. 

And so we pushed through and promised we would celebrate with all our family and friends on an anniversary one year. I’m still dreaming of that day and how special it will be. 

Because I thought my grandparents would be attending the wedding, we kept everything purposefully small. Just our family and photographer. It was difficult not having a coordinator to help move the day along, but we tasked each sibling and parent with a few small roles to help the day move smoothly and keep everyone involved. We had official candle lighters and champagne pourers at the ready. A family affair, a family wedding. 

The Thursday and Friday leading up to the wedding were total go mode. Well, I’ll correct myself, the month before was go mode. We had contractors in our home drywalling our ceilings, my sister Mary and her soon to be husband Jake came over to help paint our living and dining room, and we spent many hours dressing our attic space for our wedding dinner. And that was a fun part for me, and I think for our family, too. We shared our vision and got to work alongside those closest to us. The majority of the world was still closed, so this offered something to do. I think everyone was kind of concerned with the end result, we were totally winging it. But I knew it was possible. Even when the house was covered in plastic and tarps and the lighting fixtures were stuck in shipping facilities in Eastern Europe and my wedding dress was still being fixed — I knew it would come together. Leading up to the wedding, our families worked to quarantine and limit external interactions in order to have a mask-less, safe event. More than anything, I wanted to create a bit normalcy. I wanted to see smiles. 

Thursday morning Charlie and I went to get manicures and pedicures. My husband was also my maid of honor. And on Friday morning I picked up a bulk floral order from Trader Joe’s, turned on Frank Sinatra, and spent the morning arranging flowers in vases I’d spent years collecting. It was real, it was happening. 

Those two days were some of my favorite days. All hands were on deck and the house was full. My older brother Joren flew in from Virginia. I felt honored and blessed to have him celebrating with us. My sister Emily and I worked on rigging a table cloth out of muslin and discreetly placed duct tape while my mom gave our kitchen the deepest clean it had ever gotten in between folding napkins for place settings. My sister Mae vacuumed as our dad perfected the lighting in the attic. Charlie’s dad walked in with a box of carefully selected wine and champagne and his mom’s eyes lit up at the scene as they both jumped in to lend a hand and creative eye. Our dads not wasting any time defaulting to sharing sarcastic comments and jokes back and forth. Every room was bustling. People in and out. A quick Home Depot run followed by another. My phone chilling untouched at a 90% charge for days as my fingers and mind remained occupied. It was magic. A “Father of the Bride” Nancy Meyers dream. Everything felt like it was happening in real time with no rulebook. We were operating with a few quick sketches and the idea that it should feel unfussy, cozy, and elegant. We owe our family everything for those hours spent with us. In that moment, I knew what was happening would live on as a cherished memory. And those moments are sacred — to know the present you are currently experiencing will become a mental souvenir. 

The night before the wedding we went to the house my parents rented to dine on copious amounts of Italian food catered by a neighborhood favorite spot. After dinner, my mom handed out rolls of toilet paper to the family to dress me as a Polish bride. A tradition, she said. Charlie ended up getting a dress, too. Followed by my younger brothers and sisters. A room filled with two-ply brides. 

Charlie and I left the party and headed home. I had a bulk order of baby’s breath I hadn’t gotten around to using yet. It was going on midnight and I was fussing with heavy gauge wire and no clue how to achieve my half-baked vision. It was late, I was over it. But really, I wasn't over it. And Cha knew that. He stepped in and offered a few suggestions and helped me create a dreamy baby’s breath garland leading from our living room to dining room. Years ago, when Charlie and I first started dating, he motioned in the air and said, “I operate, think, create over here” and he motioned his other hand in space and said, “You operate, think, create here. But we meet in the middle.” And throughout our relationship, we’ve continued meeting in the middle. Our initial personal ideas and solutions are typically opposite of one another. But we share our thoughts and pull bits and pieces from each concept to create strong, well-rounded solutions. Better together, truly. As we hung our garland I told Charlie I needed to make place cards for our dinner table. I would have cut card stock with a scissor, he used a ruler and a razor blade. I scribbled names on the perfect rectangles and we placed them atop our set attic dinner table and crawled into bed. Sleeping together before our wedding day. 

I woke first. The sun was so bright that morning as it reflected off the nearly two feet of ice and snow outside. It had been in the single digits for weeks leading up to that weekend, and it was finally hovering around 20 degrees. Our attic will be warm enough for dinner, the heaters will work, I told myself. I Facetimed with a friend and took a shower. My friend’s parents made our wedding cake and I welcomed them in as they finished decorating the cake and set it up on our dining room table. Charlie headed out to get his hair done and I packed my bag. My dad picked up my bouquet and then stopped by to give me a ride to the rental house so I could get ready with my sisters. We wore matching sweatsuits in different colors and we listened to one of my selectively curated Spotify playlists as I did my hair and make up. I drank numerous cups of green tea, nerves setting in. Excited as hell. 

We all met back at our house and then took a party bus down to the church. I noticed Charlie had a tiny spec of blood on his suit. He stopped by the hardware store that morning so he could fix a light cover and pricked his finger in the process. He knew it would be important to me. At the time, of course it wasn’t. But the little details matter. Photos will look better. He knew that. We dabbed the spot of blood, kissed, and headed to the church. God, I love my husband. 

My dad read us an Irish blessing on the bus, tears already starting. I sat by Charlie. Smiles on our faces, music playing, champagne pouring.

When we arrived at church, I was greeted by two women who told me I wasn't able to get ready yet. They were reorganizing from having a funeral earlier that morning. ’Til Death, I guess. The boys stayed on the bus as our photographer and all the girls managed to find a room appropriate to use while we finished getting ready and putting on our dresses. 

We took photos together and with our family before the ceremony. We were all fresh faced and cheeks already sore from smiling. I quickly met with the Priest to coordinate our unusual processional, glossed my lips once more and told Charlie I’d see him on the other side. 

Charlie’s parents both walked him halfway down the aisle, hugged and kissed, walked together the rest of the way, and then Charlie finished the walk on his own. My siblings followed one by one. My youngest brother Charlie was our ring bearer. My brother Patrick filled in as the Flower Fella. He tossed petals from the same flower basket my parents made for their wedding, used at this same church. Following the same method used by Charlie and his parents, I walked with my mom and dad on my arms halfway down the aisle. We hugged and kissed and then I followed after them walking toward Charlie on my own. Albeit a small change, it felt new-traditional, current, and the best solution for how we view our marriage, partnership, and relationship to our parents.

After the ceremony and remaining church photos, we popped champagne in the bus and embarked on the hour drive home. When we arrived, my sister lit the candles, my brother poured the champagne tower, someone put on the cocktail hour playlist, someone else turned on the heaters, someone else handed me a cocktail. It was the someones doing the somethings that made everything go so well. We catered Spanish hors d’oeuvres and cut our cake before having our first dance to I Must Be in a Good Place Now by Bobby Charles. As the song finished, the rest of the family joined in for a dining room dance party. Once dinner was set, we dined on paella in the attic. The space was warm, the lights were just bright enough, and the candles danced among the flowers. Our space was alive and better than I thought possible. After dinner I changed into a mini tulle tiered dress and danced the night away. My sisters cut my veil not once but twice turning the chapel length last minute Etsy arrival into a shoulder length style. Better for dancing, right? My mom got out glow sticks, people played board games, champagne never stopped. 

I woke up the next morning and I feared I forgot everything. It was perfect, and too fast. But as I laid in bed next to Charlie, it all came back to me. Dancing with my mother-in-law, clinking glasses and sharing happy tears with my dad, kissing Charlie throughout the night and running back and forth between the same 12 people until long after midnight. We did it, I thought. We carved out a little slice of heaven in the middle of a pandemic. A place where we were safe and smiles could be shown. In the days following our wedding, we kept the flowers watered and the candles lit. We lounged in our space, our venue, and relived moments over and over again. And lucky for us, we still do that. We occasionally find ourselves dancing in our dining room and remembering when we had our first dance on these same nearly 100 year old floors. 

Someday, we will celebrate with our friends and extended family. But I don’t think I can call it a wedding. What took place on that chilly, sunny February day was our wedding. 

The Saturday after our wedding, we drove down to my parents house to help create a space for my grandpa’s at-home hospice treatment. My mom’s dad. The man she shares a birthday with. The wedding high felt short lived, reminded quickly of the fragility of life and joy. The swinging pendulum showing us highs and lows. Within 3 weeks, we lost my grandpa. He was one of my favorite people and one of the best men I have ever known. Navigating loss, grief, love, happiness, and unexpected joys and downfalls have found their home in my heart over this past year. I lost my grandma a few months ago, too. My dad’s mom. I miss her phone calls, the ones that lasted hours. She was a listener just as much as she was a talker. She remembered everything and always laughed when I’d pick up her phone call and greet her with a “Hello, Hot Stuff!” Her funeral brought together cousins I hadn't seen in years. More smiles than tears. More promises of togetherness. It was in this year I also quit my job. Charlie had been encouraging me to quit for a while, he knew I wasn’t happy. It’s because of him I took a risk to discover personal passion and skill. And here I am, now a week before we celebrate one year of marriage. A honeymoon in the works. A bigger heart this year than last. More aware of pain, but also constantly reminded of unexpected joys.

Charlie, you are my world. Being with you is the easiest thing I have ever done. We’re going on 8 and a half years of the honeymoon phase and I see no end in sight. To have you as we navigate the certain heartbreaks life can bring and to have you as we relish in the sunny days, small moments, big moments, and longtime jokes is the biggest blessing I could imagine. Finding you has been my greatest gift. I feel seen with you, and if I feel myself clouding over and unable to see or find myself, you listen. Your eyes, your ears, your voice, your heart, your mind. You are caring and constant and still so willing to grow and become more you. I can't wait to continue getting to know you again and again throughout this lifetime and the next. Your partnership, friendship, and love are greater than what my dreams allowed for when this life lived only in my head. Now this life is actively happening in front of me. You’ll continue becoming you, and I will continue becoming me. I’m along for the ride wherever it takes us. A forever kind of thing, Charlie. I love you. You are my favorite story. 

Photography by Aliza Baran with select photos contributed by our family