Father of the Bride

Father of the Bride | Daily Tribune

Over the weekend, I survived a rite of passage that only a handful of brave souls ever truly come out of unscathed: I gave my daughter, Janela, away in marriage.

Now, before you start sending me virtual pats on the back and bottles of Scotch (both are appreciated, by the way), let me give you a rundown of what it’s really like to be the father of the bride for the first time.

First things first, let’s talk about emotions. Everyone warns you about the “dad tears,” but no one tells you that it starts way before the actual ceremony.

You see, my daughter Janela and Janssen, her now-husband, had been college sweethearts for seven years, so much so that I had time to accept, adjust, and even like him (don’t tell him I said that). But nothing quite prepares you for the moment you realize your little girl is now a full-grown woman of grace and strength, ready to begin her own family, her own journey.

As I stood in the middle of Saint Andrew’s Church in Bel-Air, Makati, there was this surreal moment where time slowed down. You know those slow-motion scenes in movies where everything becomes blurry, and there’s emotional music playing in the background?

Yeah, that happened to me, except that the groom might have wondered why I hadn’t let go of Janela’s hand for some 10 seconds. Oops! So, I nodded, grinned like I was about to pass a kidney stone, and stepped back, officially relinquishing my title of “Most Important Man in Her Life.” Brutal, right?

But wait, there’s more! No father of the bride experience would be complete without The Speech. Oh, you thought you could just hand over the bride and call it a day? Wrong.

Now comes the fun part where you stand in front of your daughter, her new husband, and a room full of people — all while trying not to sob, joke too much, or both. In my case, I went with a heartfelt approach. My speech went something like this:

“As your father, I’ve always strived to be your rock, your confidant, your protector. I’ve tried to guide you, to offer advice, to shield you from the storms of life. But today, I realize that my role is changing. You are no longer just my little girl. You are a woman, a wife and soon, perhaps, a mother.”

I managed to keep it together. There were a few misty-eyed moments from the crowd (and maybe me too), but overall, I think I nailed it. Now, about the rest of the reception: you know how people always say, “The wedding isn’t about you?”

Well, they’re right, but no one tells you that you’ll still be expected to smile for approximately 8,000 photos, give some light fatherly advice to strangers you barely know, and dance like you’re not in physical pain. All I’m saying is that wedding shoes were not designed with fathers in mind.

Speaking of dancing, let’s discuss the father-daughter dance. I had mentally prepared myself for this for weeks. I even considered taking dance lessons. But in the end, I figured, “Hey, I’ve been a dad for a while now — I’ve got this.” Wrong again. Turns out, slow-dancing with your daughter in front of a crowd while trying to keep your emotions in check is like performing a delicate operation…with a shaky hand.

I didn’t step on her feet (that’s my victory), but there was a moment where I almost tripped over her dress and took both of us down. We laughed, of course, and it was one of those moments that made the night even more memorable.

When all was said and done, I handed Janela over to Janssen with the feeling that, despite my usual dad missteps, I’d done all right. I mean, no one booed my speech, I didn’t faint, and I didn’t cry so much that I ruined any professional photos. Plus, I got through it all without having to give up on my dad jokes. That’s a win, right?

So, what does it feel like to be a father of the bride for the first time? Imagine riding a roller coaster blindfolded —terrifying, exhilarating and something you won’t soon forget.

e-mail: mannyangeles27@gmail.com