A wedding to remember, a grandmother no one will ever forget
By Anna Kraus
Through it all there was Mimi.
I got married a year ago this month. It was a destination wedding of sorts, held in Seaside, a quaint beach town located along the panhandle of Florida. Our small home there has been the site of family gatherings and vacations for as long as I can remember. As an Army brat it is the closest thing to a hometown that my family and I have. It is a special place.
Friends and family gathered for the weekend to celebrate my husband-to-be and me, and the weekend was kicked off with a rehearsal dinner that everyone was invited to. Everyone was invited because everyone, including friends, was family. A local restaurant paid homage to my husband’s family with paella cooked on an open flame, wine glasses filled with Spanish wine and Champagne bottles popping. Love was shared, toasts were made, and new acquaintances became old friends.
I got ready for the ceremony at my parents’ beach house, a bubble gum pink house that barely holds five people that was overrun with bridesmaids’ dresses, makeup, our two golden retrievers, Max and Molly, and camera equipment. It was frantic and cramped and hectic and it was perfect, made more so by being able to wear my Mimi’s wedding gown. My mother helped me dress, buttoning a thousand buttons and then (not so gently) throwing her veil on my head. Photographers whirled around us and puppies stepped on hemlines.
The dress itself is not really my style; I would not have picked it. It is a ball gown with yards of tulle and lace and stitching. I would have chosen something more modern with fewer frills. But wearing a gown that multiple generations of my family — my Mimi, my aunt and my mom — had worn made the moment I walked down the aisle that much more special.
The wedding was held in a beautiful, small chapel in town. It holds 100 people, the exterior is white wash, and the interior is stained cedar with enormous windows that take up all the wall space, filling the one-room chapel with sun. Almost every pew was full. After the ceremony pictures were taken and I was whisked back to the house to change into something easier to wear. At the reception I showed off a dress more my style, a short white dress better suited for dancing until all hours of the night.
And there was dancing and singing, eating and drinking and festivity. Lights were strung across an outdoor square. Farm tables were decorated with blush garden roses and greenery. Candles twinkled and provided light as the sun set and everyone at the wedding celebrated my husband and me.
Through it all there was Mimi. At the rehearsal dinner she charmed and captivated. She adopted an old friend as “an honorary Barnes girl” and embraced new family as if they had been part of every family gathering for as long as she could remember. She conversed and cajoled as only Mimi could. She posed for pictures, encircled by her family, new and old. Mimi loved it.
At the wedding Mimi sat in the front row, delighting over being with all her family and honored by the fact that her eldest granddaughter was wearing her wedding dress. As I danced with family and friends at the reception, Mimi was right where she loved being, surrounded by family, in the center of things, holding court under a gas lamp for warmth. Mimi loved it.
Mimi passed away in October. It was a blow to our family, driving home the point that the extended family had lost the heart that kept us all truly connected. But it was also a chance to gather, and to gather is good. To gather together is a means to support and love and embrace each other. She brought us all together as only Mimi could. But Mimi’s absence was felt. She should have been holding court, staying up just as late as the rest of us as we all swirled around her. Sipping a glass of wine and staying right in the thick of things as we told stories and made memories. And Mimi would have loved it. PS
Anna Kraus is Cos Barnes’ granddaughter. She lives in Alexandria, Virginia, with her husband, Andrew.
