Slipping Through my Fingers ~ Diana Copland: Outside the Margins

Join us as Diana Copland goes Outside the Margins.

In eleven days, my daughter is getting married.

Wow. It feels distinctly surreal to put that on the page. In eleven days, my little girl is getting married. My funny, silly, joyous Disney princess has found herself a prince, and I couldn’t be happier for her. He actually is a really good guy, he’s responsible and he adores her, and as her mom I couldn’t ask for more.

Well, that’s not true. I could ask for more. I could ask that her dad was here to walk her down the aisle.

Her older brother is going to do it, which is lovely. The idea of them walking down the aisle together makes me a bit misty. And we’ve always known this day was coming. I mean, her dad passed when she was seven. We’ve gone through our share of ‘father/daughter’ dance heartbreak. I guess people don’t think about it much when those events are planned, that there are a number of kids who don’t have a dad, or a mom. And thankfully those who do have both parents living far outnumber the ones who don’t. But for the ones who don’t? There’s an ache that doesn’t go away. Her brother, once again the hero, took her to a Girl Scout dance once, but they weren’t friends then and the picture is the very definition of awkward family photos. I offered to take her, but that doesn’t quite cut it either, when you’re surrounded by other little girls who have corsages and are dancing with their daddies.

My kids really have never felt sorry for themselves over the way their lives have turned out. It’s not the way we’ve dealt with their grief. And their dad would have absolutely HATED the idea that they were wallowing in self-pity. We were always completely honest with our kids, too. They knew what was going on, as much as a seven year old can. My son was thirteen; he remembers all too well. For my daughter, I think it’s a more distant memory, and for at least I’ll be grateful next weekend.

She has made some nods to convention. At the reception, when she would have been having her dance with her dad, she’s decided she wants to dance with me. She’s picked the song from Mama Mia where Meryl Streep is singing to her daughter. It’s called ‘Slipping Through My Fingers’, and I cry every damn time I watch the movie. Every. Damn. Time. And she knows it. So I’ll stand there in the middle of the dance floor, rocking back and forth and bawling my eyes out.

And I know her Dad will be right there with me, because he wouldn’t miss it for anything.

~ Diana Copland

Farewell Giveaway
I have a number of paperbacks, most of which are signed, to giveaway. Over the between now (11 Mar 2017) and 31 Mar 2017, every comment on the blog (this post and all other new posts), will be entered to win 1 of these paperbacks. There are also some misc swag items, so there will be a few packs of these to give away as well.

Thank you so much for your support over the last 4 years. Prism will be closing its doors on 1 April 2017. All content will remain available, but no new content will appear after 31 Mar 2017. As such all request forms have been turned off. Again Thank you,

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2 thoughts on “Slipping Through my Fingers ~ Diana Copland: Outside the Margins

  1. Thank you for sharing this. Those of us with families still whole and in tact do not always understand what it is like for those who have suffered loss. This reminds me of my brother’s wedding. It was shortly after my sister-in-law lost her father. She only has sisters so her brother-in-law walked her down the Isle. She chose to forgo the father/daughter dance and I guessing that is because the sorrow was still so fresh. I love that you feel so much emotion and have no problems sharing that with the world. Your daughter is so lucky to have you in her life.

  2. Congratulations to your family for this upcoming awesomeness. 😀
    Hugs to all of you.

    My brother got married a year ago yesterday. Both of our parents were there. About two months later, my mom passed unexpectedly. To say we’re thankful that we have those memories and pictures (as well as from Christmas) is, of course, and understatement.

    Like her dad, my mom would figure out a way to box our ears from wherever she’s hanging out these days if she thought we weren’t moving forward with life. 😉

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