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After Jim hugged my dad, he took my hand and escorted me up the altar steps. Reverend Philip Oriole, a close friend from Pennsylvania, and Monsignor Francis Weldgen, chaplain for the Buffalo Bills, cracked a few jokes to kick off the ceremony.

“Buffalo has been waiting a long time for two things,” Father Fran said. “To win a Super Bowl, and for Jim to get married.” We all laughed.

Jim appeared very calm—not to mention very handsome in his double-breasted, traditional black tuxedo. I, on the other hand, was a nervous wreck. I think part of me was still in shock that I was actually getting married! This is a big deal! A really big deal! I thought to myself. But even on this momentous day, doubt tried to overshadow me: What in the world am I doing here? Who do I think I am, marrying an NFL quarterback?

We had a traditional Catholic wedding ceremony, complete with Gospel readings, the lighting of the unity candle, recitation of the Lord’s Prayer, and the taking of Communion. I tried desperately to take it all in, but the entire day is more a collage of defining moments than detailed memories.

What I remember most vividly about the ceremony is really what made the day unforgettable: Jim choked up when he said his vows. Jim’s not one for showing his emotions, so when he had trouble maintaining his composure, I was shocked and humbled. Could it be that Jim actually means what he’s saying—in good times and bad, till death do us part? Do I mean it?

After the bridal kiss and our presentation as Mr. and Mrs. Jim Kelly, we made our way to the city of Buffalo’s breathtaking waterfront and lighthouse for pictures. Believe it or not, we had so much fun that both photographers neglected to take a single photo of my mother and me together—go figure. Maybe they were having a little too much fun. In any case, after the pictures we headed to the New York State Armory for the much-anticipated reception. The site was an old military storage base being used by a local unit of the New York National Guard. The historic landmark, located on Connecticut Street in the heart of Buffalo, looks like a small castle. It was the only local facility available that could accommodate the number of guests we had.

For security purposes and to protect our privacy, guests were required to present a numbered invitation to enter the reception. The rustic old building was flanked with security and media as the wedding-goers filed through the front doors. Meanwhile, Jim and I snuck in through a private entrance.

All the pomp, pretense, and splendor of the entire event made me laugh. You would’ve thought we were the prince and princess of Buffalo. At that time, oddly, I guess we were.

The Armory had been transformed into a splendid alabaster sanctuary. Tables and chairs were dressed in crisp white linen, and an elegant floral centerpiece accented each table. The aroma from hundreds of flowers infused the entire building. A beautiful archway display of fresh white roses and twinkling lights greeted each guest as they entered the cathedral-like main room. Everywhere you looked, the room seemed to dance and sparkle.

In the midst of ice sculptures, mounds of fresh shrimp and raw seafood, butler-passed hors d’oeuvres, carving stations, and many mouth-watering delicacies, our wedding cake stole the show. Jim had been determined to design our cake. So much so that he spent time drawing exactly how he envisioned it should look. With the help of Carolyn—a very sweet and patient pastry artist—our dream cake became a reality.

The incredible dessert, made for an army (or a football team), stood more than seven feet tall and weighed over five hundred pounds. Each of the nine tiers was a different flavor of cake, including white, chocolate, various cheesecakes, and even carrot. Its smooth fondant surface featured sugar vases filled with cascading roses and other flowers made of frosting.

I don’t know how Carolyn got our cake from her bakery to the wedding