Father of the Bride Speech Examples

Good evening, everyone. I'm Richard, Sophie's father. On behalf of Helen and me, thank you for being here, and thank you to James's parents, Anne and David, for raising the man our daughter chose and for sharing this day with us.

When Sophie was seven she lined up her stuffed animals on the landing and married them to each other, one pair at a time, with a full ceremony. I thought it was adorable. I now realise she was practising. Looking at her with James tonight, I see the same seriousness she brought to those bears, and a happiness I once hoped she'd find and wasn't sure how to wish for.

Sophie has always known what she wanted. At nine, a dog, which she got. At twenty-two she came home from her first real job, sat down at the kitchen table, and told us she was going to quit it, because it wasn't the thing. It was terrifying to hear and it was exactly right, and I've learned to trust her on the second part.

So when she told us she'd met someone, Helen asked what he was like, and Sophie said, "He's the thing." That was the whole review. It was enough.

I met James a month later. He arrived early, which nobody in our family has ever managed, and he brought a book for me that he'd noticed I'd mentioned once in passing. What I remember most from that first dinner isn't anything he said. It's that when Sophie talked, he listened as if it mattered, and when she got something wrong, and she does, he waited until they were alone. I saw that. I've been married thirty-one years. That's the whole job.

James, thank you for the way you look at my daughter. Thank you for being early. Welcome to our family; there's no leaving now.

Sophie, your mother and I have watched you choose well your whole life. You chose the dog. You chose the job you left and the job you found. Tonight is the best choice yet, and it's the only one we got to dress up for.

Would everyone please stand. To Sophie and James. May your love be modern enough to survive the times and old-fashioned enough to last forever.

I'm Tom, and I'm Maya's dad, which she'll tell you I've been practising for twenty-six years without noticeable improvement.

I want to start with a confession. When Maya was born, the nurse handed her to me, and I said, out loud, "What do I do now?" Nobody answered. I've been asking the same question every year since, and the answer has always turned out to be the same. Get out of her way, and stand close enough to catch things.

She didn't need much catching. Maya taught herself to swim by refusing to get out of the pool. She learned to drive by informing me that she already knew how, and then, to be fair, mostly knowing how. When she was sixteen she told me she was going to be a nurse, and I said that sounded like hard work, and she looked at me with the exact expression her mother uses and said, "Yes, Dad. That's why."

Sam, I'm told you got that look on your second date. Welcome. You get used to it. You never win.

I'd like to say I sized Sam up carefully the first time we met. The truth is Maya brought him to a family barbecue, my brother-in-law immediately handed him the tongs, and Sam ran that grill for three hours in a borrowed apron without complaint. Halfway through, Maya walked past, took a piece of chicken off the grill, and squeezed his shoulder without either of them looking at the other. I've been married thirty years. I know what that shoulder squeeze means. It means she's stopped checking whether he's still there.

Sam, you're marrying someone who decided at sixteen to do hard things on purpose. She'll do that with you too. What she needs from you is what you did at that barbecue: take the tongs and stay at the grill. Don't make it about you. You already know.

Maya, I've spent twenty-six years asking what to do now. Tonight, for once, I know. Your mother and I stand close, and we let you go.

Please raise a glass to Maya and Sam. To hard things done on purpose, and to always knowing who's holding the tongs.

I'm not a speaker. Leah knows this, which is why she gave me a two-minute limit and a look. So I'll say the two things I most want to say and then sit down.

The first is about Leah. When she was four she fell off the porch steps and split her chin. On the way to the hospital, bleeding, she asked me whether the doctor would be nice. Not whether it would hurt. Whether the doctor would be nice. That's been the question she asks about everyone, her whole life, and it's why this room is full of people who'd do anything for her. She finds the nice ones. She keeps them.

The second is about Jordan. I met him at Thanksgiving three years ago. My wife was unwell that year and couldn't be at the table for long. Jordan noticed, brought her a plate to the sofa, and sat with her while the rest of us argued about football. He didn't tell anyone. He didn't know I'd seen. Leah found the nice one. I'm not surprised. I'm grateful.

Jordan, she'll ask every day of your life whether people are being kind to you. Let her. It's how she loves.

Leah, you're the best thing your mother and I ever did. That was true on the porch steps and it's true tonight.

Please stand and raise a glass. To Leah and Jordan. May you always find the nice ones, and may you always be them.