Determined her mum wouldn’t die without seeing her married, former Australian Women’s Weekly editor Cath Bennett made a pact that saw her become a bride three times in two months. Photo / Sonja Read, Trilby and Lace.
Determined her mum wouldn’t die without seeing her married, former Australian Women’s Weekly editor Cath Bennett made a pact that saw her become a bride three times in two months. Photo / Sonja Read, Trilby and Lace.
OPINION:
It wasn’t really the time to be making deals. We were in the middle of the Covid pandemic, I had briefly swapped New Zealand’s gilded cage for the clinical confines of Mum’s English care home and doctors had warned us she might not live to see Christmas.
But I wanted to give the most important woman in my life hope – something to live for.
Looking at Mum slumped in a wheelchair, wearing a jovial festive jumper, her brave smile belying the pain in her eyes, I took her hand and made a promise. I told her if she could just fight and get back on her feet – metaphorically, if not physically – then I would get married.
Mum had been waiting for me to tie the knot ever since I emigrated to be with my Kiwi partner Phil Stephens in 2006. In reality, she had probably been waiting for it my whole life. I was now facing the fact she probably wouldn’t be there.
What followed was a miraculous bounce back to health by my mum, Rowena Bennett. And her unexpected and continuous recovery led to a series of romantic events on two continents, across a variety of locations, with Mum not only helping coordinate it all, but also walking me down the aisle.
Aisle be there
It was a happy ending that seemed highly unlikely back in 2020, when, following a horrendous tumble down a flight of stairs that saw her hospitalised, Mum was unexpectedly diagnosed with stage 4 lung cancer, which had spread to her spine. The whole family was in shock – not least because just months earlier, Mum’s brother had died of Covid while battling the same cancer.
What followed was a miraculous bounce back to health by my mum, Rowena Bennett. Photo / Sonja Read, Trilby and Lace.
With doctors ruling out the efficacy of chemotherapy, surgery or radiotherapy, Mum was discharged to round-the-clock support of a care home in Kent, South East England. Visitors were banned due to the Covid pandemic, but given Mum’s bleak prognosis and the fact I had flown from New Zealand to be with her, I was given access.
I honestly believed it would be the last time I’d see her. I was scrambling for something positive to focus on and, in desperation, thought planning a wedding might just be the key to lifting my mother’s spirits. Weirdly, it almost instantly did.
Mum said it gave her something else to think about. She and I have always been in very regular contact, but once I left for MIQ back in Auckland, we FaceTimed daily and almost every call had some aspect of wedding chat in it. Right away, she was online hunting for her perfect outfit. She must have ordered – and sent back – at least a dozen dresses before I’d even started looking for my own.
However, when it came to the big event itself, it wasn’t as easy as just organising a ceremony. At that point, I had already been engaged to Phil, the father of my three children, for eight years, but getting married had been in the too-hard basket.
My family is all in the UK and Phil’s is here; I wanted a church wedding, he doesn’t believe in God; the kids were very young; we were renovating the house and launching Phil’s plumbing business… It was just never the right time.
Mum’s illness put it all into perspective – it didn’t need to be perfect; it just needed to be done. But if we thought it was hard before, travel restrictions made it nigh on impossible. Happily, the magic of medicine bought us some time.
Mum’s illness put it all into perspective – it didn’t need to be perfect; it just needed to be done. Photo / Sonja Read, Trilby and Lace.
Soon after I got back to New Zealand, we found out Mum was suitable for treatment with a new wonder drug, Osimertinib. It worked miracles. Within a few months, she was able to leave the care home and move into a retirement complex. Eight months after I had last seen her, she was walking again… and exploring wedding venues near her village.
However, given the complicated requirements for overseas couples to get married in England, I started investigating options in Scotland, where Phil and I met, and a location we hoped Mum could make it to. It was a challenge. We didn’t want to book anything too soon in case the borders hadn’t opened, while taking too long ran the risk Mum would deteriorate.
But to our amazement, Mum kept going from strength to strength, to the point where she raised more than £1000 (NZ$1989) for Hospice UK doing a 5km walk and pledged to return to New Zealand, a place she had fallen in love with over multiple trips. Further incentive came from her parish priest, who was so impressed with her positive attitude that he offered to hold a blessing ceremony in his church, despite Phil not being Catholic.
It gave rise to the perfect solution. We could have a small legal ceremony in Auckland with Mum, plus Phil’s immediate family, then head over to the UK for a blessing and reception with my relatives.
Australian Woman's Weekly
I wanted to keep the first nuptials small, so the rest of my family, particularly my dad, didn’t feel they were only watching me exchange vows after all our Kiwi friends had heard them. But by the same token, there were heaps of people here we didn’t want to leave off the guest list.
Ultimately, we decided we’d better have a third event – this time, a backyard wedding party at home for 100 people with a band and food truck.
For better, for worse
There were a few speedbumps. The priest became ill and was retired out of the church, which led to Mum begging almost every man of cloth in South East England to fill in. I was on the verge of persuading one of my brothers to dress up in dog collar and robes when an Anglican vicar with a stunning historic church complete with bellringers agreed to help us.
What mattered was creating moments that will live forever, even if we don’t. Photo / Sonja Read, Trilby and Lace.
That hurdle paled in comparison to the despair when, just a couple of months before she left for Auckland, we found out Mum’s cancer had spread. This time, the doctors recommended radiotherapy, but she kept reassuring us she’d bounce back – and my irrepressible mother did just that.
Finding out my dad also had cancer the day before our New Zealand wedding just made me realise how important it is to mark joyful occasions with loved ones while you can.
Then there were the more minor hiccups. We had our legal union in a private house on Waiheke Island and ironically, given my husband-to-be’s profession, the whole place smelled of sewage the night before due to plumbing issues.
And ahead of the UK ceremony, the airline spent a week trying to track down the suitcase with my dress in it. I only got the extremely crinkled frock back mere hours before leaving for the church.
But ultimately, it didn’t matter if I was late down the aisle because my daughter needed a last-minute poo or that my nine-year-old son got a bug and threw up on me during the second reception.
What mattered was creating moments that will live forever, even if we don’t. The love. The laughs. The speeches. The bad dancing. The three outings for my eBay dress. And Mum – the star of the show – walking me down the aisle, reading at two ceremonies and being our witness.
Mum not only helped me coordinate it all, but she walked me down the aisle. Photo / Sonja Read, Trilby and Lace.
I will forever treasure the moment she stood up with her rock choir after the wedding breakfast in England and belted out Robbie Williams’ Angels a cappella, reducing the entire room to tears.
Medicine undoubtedly gave me my Mum back, but I also don’t underestimate the benefits of a positive mindset in sprinkling a little stardust. And I swear by the importance of seizing the moment and celebrating what you can, when you can.
We still approach every scan and every meeting with the specialist with trepidation, but despite being recently diagnosed with a collapsed vertebra, Mum has just booked a ticket to come spend our first wedding anniversary and Christmas with us. And she’s already shopping for new outfits…
