I look at the man in the mirror and wonder what I see. I don't see the blue eyes, or features that everyone else sees. I see the scars; lines of worry and concentration. The story of my life is written on my face.

This is the day. I never thought I'd see this day come. My stomach is not on speaking terms with me. It's queasy and flipping around. This is not a feeling I'm used to. I'm used to being in control of my faculties, my emotions, my thoughts. Not today.

Stubble covers my cheeks. Grabbing the shaving cream, I pour some into my hand. Get way too much. This doesn't surprise me; not on a day like today. Now I have white all over the lower half of my face. I take a moment and ponder at my appearance. Interesting. With the razor in hand, I begin to remove the cream and the facial hair. Part way through the razor slips and the cut is deep and long. I don't curse or get angry. This happening is something to be expected.

What made me lose my grip, what was the cause of the gash on my face? Thoughts of her, thoughts of Catherine. A day would not be complete without my mind turning to Catherine. And now on this day the thoughts aren't comforting.

What to do next? I have the choice of brushing my teeth first and then combing my hair, or combing my hair, then brushing my teeth. Hmmm. Decisions. These are the biggest decisions I face right now. The biggest decision of my life has been made. It's over with.

As I brush my teeth I remember back to the time that we went to the dentist. You know a person is a big part of your life when you hold his or her hand as a cavity is filled.

The memory brings a chuckle. For three days Catherine had been living on room temperature milk shakes, soup, nearly anything she would just have to drink. I finally convinced her to go to the dentist. This was accomplished by me making the appointment and driving her. In the waiting room she looked so cute. Trying hard to be brave, but looking more timid than the six year old across the room. When her name was called, she grabbed my hand and looked at me with the most soulful eyes I'd ever seen. How could I say no? So to the examining room with us both. As she sat in the chair, she reached for my hand. That was the moment, the moment my heart was no longer mine.

Hair combed, teeth brushed, face shaved and scared. The cut is very visible, but that can't be helped. Besides no one is going to be looking at me, all eyes will be on her. She'll light up the room like she always does. Undeniably beautiful, funny, vulnerable, creative, honest, cool, confident, extremely likeable...The list goes on and on, with the ending being one hell of a CSI and soon-to-be-wife.

Now it is time to get dressed. I look at the black pants. Nothing wrong with black slacks, there's nothing wrong with a white shirt either. These are both simple and un-cramped, or not cramping. But it is the next item that causes me to groan. A tie, not just any tie, a bow tie. One of those fancy ones that goes along with this monkey suit. I make a face of disgust and catch the reflection in the mirror. Catherine would have made a disapproving face at this. I smile.

There the tie is done. Probably not as straight as it should be or will be for anyone else. Someone will most likely correct it for me. Now the jacket. It fits good and straight. I look like a conductor. I feel like I'm off to lead an orchestra on opening night at the Met. I'd feel less nervous if I was.

Oh, shoes. Can't forget those. That would look real good, showing up in my black socks. Then again who is going to notice? And I hate these damn dress shoes. They're so stiff. I should have broken them in. But that would have meant wearing them; that in turn would have reminded me of this up coming event and ...

That's the way my thoughts have been lately. A spiraling chain of non-important junk. Ever since the day I found out, my thoughts have been this way.

The hell with it, I'm not wearing the shoes. My not wearing shoes isn't going to stop things; it's not going to bring down the house. Well church, more accurately.

With one final look in the mirror...I see a man that no one else sees. I see a man that is scared out of his mind. But I have to put such thought out of my head. To the Tahoe.

Damn, traffic is bad, I should have left sooner. This tie is too tight. I grab at the collar of my shirt, but it's just a reflex action that doesn't accomplish anything. At least this shindig is taking place at night when the temperature is bearable.

Damn look at all those cars. Calm down, deep breathes. Inhale slowly, count to three, exhale slowly, count to three. As I approach the church, I am alone. No one is waiting outside. It is almost as if things have already begun. One quick, final breath and I open the door. The sound of a thousand conversations hits me. The buzzing sound is almost comforting; distracting the butterflies in my stomach. Oh, hell, here we go.

I don't hear anything except the rushing of blood in my ears. I can't tell if people are still talking or not. I'm too scared to look and too...well I just don't want to. Oh, here is Lindsey; she looks so beautiful; so much like Catherine. My mouth is dry like the desert outside. I can't swallow, can't breathe, can't blink. Then all at once my life is given back to me as I see an angel coming down the isle towards me. And I put to rest the thoughts of a man on his wedding day.