Short Father of the Bride Speech: 3 Full Examples

Thirty two years I drove trains for a living, so I know better than most what happens when something runs longer than the board promised. People start muttering. They check their watches and eye the exits. I've timed this speech at three and a half minutes. We will be arriving on schedule.

I'm Trevor, Josie's dad. She gave me two instructions for tonight. Keep it short, and don't do the thing I do at adverts with dogs in them. One out of two is my final offer.

When Josie was small, my last run on a Friday came through our own station at ten past five. Her grandad would walk her up to the footbridge, whatever the weather, and she'd stand in that yellow raincoat waving like I was coming home from sea instead of Chester. I'd flash the lights at her. Strictly against the rules, that, and I'd do it again tomorrow. The waving stopped when she turned fourteen and her dad became an embarrassment on all official channels. I kept flashing the lights though. You don't drop your end of a thing like that.

She's an architect now, which surprised nobody. Other kids drew houses with the sun in the corner. Josie drew our footbridge, side on, with measurements. Her teacher sent it home with a note saying she was a little concerned. We had it framed.

People ask what Josie's like and I tell them she's the sort who reads the last page of a book first. She likes to know a thing holds before she puts her weight on it. So she took her time over the big decisions, and we never once rushed her. We knew whatever she finally chose would be load-bearing.

Then she chose Ewan. The first time he came to ours he arrived forty minutes early, which in this family is more or less a betrothal. Before he'd finished his first cup of tea he was up a ladder helping me sort the gutters. I told Josie's mum that night, whatever happens with these two, we're keeping him for the odd jobs.

But here's what I actually rate about the lad. Josie works too hard. Always has, and you can't tell her. Ewan is the only human being I've ever seen talk her out of a laptop at midnight. His entire method is to put a plate of proper food down where the keyboard was and wait. Like a man defusing a bomb with cheese on toast.

Josie, love. Your mum and I have watched you build your life the way you drew that bridge. Carefully, properly, made to last. I'm going to say I'm proud of you just the once, because twice would finish me off. I'm proud of you.

Ewan, welcome to the family, officially. Unofficially you've been in it since the gutters. You're a kind man and a patient one, and I couldn't have picked better if she'd let me, which she wouldn't.

Right, on your feet please, and raise your glasses. To Josie and Ewan. May there always be someone on the bridge, waving you home.

I've sold hardware in the same Tennessee town for thirty one years, so believe me when I say I know the difference between what's built to last and what just shines on the shelf. I can also read a room that's ready to dance. This will be short.

I'm Walt, Ruthie's dad. If you've ever bought a hinge within forty miles of Maryville, you and I have probably met, and I probably showed you her picture.

Ruthie grew up in aisle four of the store. She could climb the stock ladder before she could spell ladder. When she was nine, a customer came in asking for, and I'm quoting the man directly, the doohickey that stops the screen door doing the bang. I was still translating when Ruthie took him by the sleeve and walked him straight to the door closers. Picked the right size too. I made her honorary assistant manager on the spot, and she negotiated the title up to vice president. I should have seen all of this coming.

These days she teaches second grade over in Knoxville, and she swears it's the same job. Folks come in not quite sure what they need, and you help them find it. Half of everything still ends up on the floor.

Now let me tell you how I met Caleb, because I knew Caleb before I knew Caleb. One Saturday morning this polite young fella comes in needing lumber to fix a porch step. Wouldn't take the cheap pine. Asked me what I'd put on my own mother's porch. Bought the good hinges without a flinch. Best customer I'd had all month. Three weeks later Ruthie brings her new boyfriend home for Sunday dinner, and standing in my kitchen holding grocery store tulips is my porch step man. That boy went white as primer. I shook his hand and asked how the step turned out.

It turned out level. I drove over and checked.

Here's the part I didn't learn until later. The step he was fixing wasn't even his. It belonged to the widow two doors down from Ruthie, who'd been asking for help for a month while the whole street studied their shoes. One person showed up with a saw.

Ruthie, sweetheart. Your mama and I used to watch you behind that register, eight years old, counting a customer's change back nice and slow so they could follow along. You've been taking care of people since you could see over the counter. It's a fine thing, watching somebody take care of you for a change. Let him.

Caleb, you walked into my store for a two by ten and you're walking out of this room with my whole girl. That's the worst trade anyone's ever made across my counter, and somehow the best one too. Welcome to the family, son. Bring the truck on Thanksgiving morning. You're on turkey duty with me.

Now everybody stand on up and find your glass. To Ruthie and Caleb. Built to last.

People find out I keep bees and they always ask the same question. Have I been stung. Thousands of times. Did it ever once put me off the honey. It did not. Lena and Freya, that's the whole speech really. Everything from here is just stories.

I'm Macca, Lena's dad. She asked me to keep this under four minutes and I bartered her down to three and a half. Twenty nine years, and that's the first negotiation I have ever won with that girl.

When Lena was six, a swarm came off one of my hives and settled on the clothesline. For most children that means going through the flyscreen door without opening it first. I came around the side of the shed and found her standing directly underneath several thousand bees, hands in her pockets, watching. My heart about stopped. She looked up at me and said, Dad, shoosh, they're busy. She has been the calmest thing on this property ever since, and I'm including the bees.

She makes wine now, twenty minutes up the road, and she reckons the two trades are the same one. You look after small things that won't be hurried, and if you've done it right, once a year there's something worth pouring. I'd argue mine's harder. Grapes have never once chased me across a paddock. She brought us a bottle of her first vintage and made us promise to keep it for tonight. It's on the table by the cake. Find it later.

The first time Lena brought Freya up to the farm, I was robbing the hives, and Freya insisted on helping. Brand new boots, keen as mustard. Inside ten minutes she'd taken a sting on the wrist, and I watched this woman, hand puffing up like a dinner roll, look me dead in the eye and ask if she could please keep going. And Lena, who'd been quiet all morning, went still. The good kind of still. The kind she saves for things she never wants to spook.

The night they rang to tell us they were engaged, her mum was crying before Lena got the second sentence out. The dog and I held it together. That's the official record and we're sticking to it.

Freya, you should know what you've married into. Lena goes quiet when something matters to her. The bigger the thing, the quieter she gets. In twenty nine years I have never known her as quiet as the first winter she knew you. Her mum and I noticed, and we kept it to ourselves. You learn that much from bees.

Lena, my girl. You have never once needed me to tell you what to do, which has saved us both decades. So I'll only say this. You two have made something worth looking after slowly, and you both already know how. You're the two most patient people I have ever met, and I spend my working day with insects.

So get on your feet and lift whatever's in front of you. To Lena and Freya. May the stings be few and the honey ridiculous.