How This Dad Nearly Ruined His Daughters Wedding With This Speech He Gave
It's not really about the words (is it?)

My daughter is getting married tomorrow.
Like, as I write this, on a Thursday in 2021, my daughter's wedding day is happening in just about 30'ish hours from now. It's very real, and visceral, and emotional.
Especially the part where people keep asking me if I have my speech prepared.
I mean, I know I'm supposed to give a speech at the reception. Something that is supposed to share moments of her childhood, her becoming a woman, and how she and her new husband should have an eternity of love. The bullet points are pretty "wedding" standard.
But I can't stop crying.
The thing about "can't stop crying" is that I didn't quite feel this same way when my first daughter was married. Don't get me wrong. It was very emotional, but there's something more here. Something I cannot quite figure out and wrap my mind around.
Maybe it's because she's my youngest and final daughter to give away?
Perhaps it's because I've been overseas up until seven days ago and was able to fly in for this occasion?
Or maybe it's because of the pandemic and how this is a sense of normalcy and life moving forward again?
It could be all of the above.
The thing is, I don't really know what it is, but what I do know is that every time I try to write out my thoughts, I become a blubbering idiot.
So look. If you're reading this, then I'm spilling the beans. I'm sharing the speech here. It feels like the more I share, the more profound it becomes, and more so, I kinda feel like I'm leaving some tears here so I won't break down when the actual moment arrives and ruin my daughter's wedding.
Which is tomorrow.
---
Ricky (father of the bride) is speaking now…
I remember the day you were born.
In and of itself, that's an unremarkable statement. I mean, every parent usually says that. Am I right?
But this was different.
I remember when you "emerged" and the nurse took you over to the bassinet. She placed you under the warmer. You know, the heated red light that you usually find burgers and fries under.
And you were all swaddled up, and she laid you down on your side. I semi-squatted and leaned my upper body and neck to about 90 degrees so that I could see you at your level.
And our eyes met.
But it was more than that. To say our eyes met is to say the ocean is big. Or that the sky is up.
There was something intangible. It's as if you spoke to me through that first gaze. That gaze that went from my eyes to my brain, to my heart, and deep into my soul where it rooted and remains so even to this day.
At first, the look said…
"Yeah. I know who you are. You're my dad."
I was speechless.
And then…
"What? You've never seen a baby before?"
I could not peel my gaze away.
Next was…
"OK. Stop staring. Do I have a unibrow or something?"
But I was connected to my little girl…
Finally, you said…
"It's gonna be OK, dad. Now go check my mom."
And that's when the beeps, the voices of the hospital staff, the sounds of the labor and delivery room came rushing back in.
Time stopped for a moment.
At least for me it did.
And I'm pretty confident it did as well for you.
Then we blink.
Now you're getting married.
And as I turn to look at you, as you sit there and listen, here's what I want to say to you. In a way, the responses that were stuck in my throat in August of 1995 when you were born. My beautiful little girl and bride.
You're right. I'm your dad. And while I've given you away, just know that I always…always will be…your dad.
No. There wasn't a unibrow - just a precious little being placed into my world who is now a beautiful young lady. You left me speechless then, but today, I have words.
Yeah. Yeah, it is gonna be OK. It's gonna be very OK because now I see there is a fine young man who has given you his heart and taken your hand.
So yeah.
You were right.
Kelsey and Zach, it is very much all OK.
Can y'all raise a toast to my little girl Kelsey and her husband, Zach.
To many, many years of happiness and a life full of blessings.
Cheers.
---
Ricky is typing now…
I'm back.
I had to pause, and now the wedding is about 27 hours away.
And I'm crying.
Again.
About the Creator
Rick Martinez
* Professional Ghostwriter
* USA Today Bestselling Author
* Helping First-Time Authors Craft Non-Fiction Masterpieces
* Helping folks (just like you) realize their dream of writing their book
California born, Texas raised.

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