the wedding
The bride was 18 and a junior in high school. The groom was 36, a college grad and a soccer coach. She looked like a child bride, he like a balding father figure. He was standing, obviously nervous, in the bride's living room, waiting for her to come down the stairs. He seemed aware of the disapproval that hung next to the festive wedding decorations, and blended with the sounds of the father of the bride's ventilator. I caught his eye and smiled at him. He seemed like he needed one person that might give him the impression that we all didn't hate him. After all, who are we to judge? Well actually I had been judging ever since I heard about this wedding three weeks ago. He smiled back and seemed so happy to find a friendly face in the crowd of his parents, her disapproving (some drunk)siblings and a collection of friends who were just not surprised since this family just seemed to be destined for drama in many forms not even imaginable to most of us.
In reality though, all families have their weird stuff. I don't call it dysfunctional, it is just what is. The only difference in my growing up family and the bride's family was that my family did not have Lou Gehrigs and cancer. They just had booze and all the drawbacks that come with being sprung from the loins of a long line of alchoholics.
From this groom, with his thinning hair, headed for a combover, I sensed something benevolent. I felt like he maybe he was a good person and it just might work. I might have been one of the few there who felt that way.
The wispy haired groom waited for the bride to come down the stairs and finally she did, despite her sister mouthing to her as she descended the stairs "Go back, take the elevator down to the garage and run away". The bride's dad, my running buddy and friend, was helped to a standing position by his two sons and he walked with her to the front of the guests, ventilator whooshing rhythmically, and arms devoid of muscle power hanging at his side. It was a touching sight. I was glad he was there to see one of his kids get married. The marrying official, a Mormon Bishop and an orthopedic surgeon I knew a long time ago, gave them a lecture about taking care of each other. Then we all introduced ourselves. My friend's aide is named Regina. When she introduced herself, a brother of the bride, who had a little bit to drink to cover his pain over his younger sister's decision said, "Do you know what Regina means in Portuguese? Gina Again!" This would not be the last time that night we would hear that. I was really surprised that no one objected. But then again, the orthopedic surgeon/marrying official wisely did not ask that question.
A few songs were sung by a friend of the parents and the traditional "do you take this woman...." vows were exchanged. The mother of the bride tried to form a line for greeting but was shot down by her daughter, who looked impossibly thin in a skin tight strapless. sleevless dress and black fishnet stockings (when did they become the in thing again?). No one really seemed too uncomfortable. The food was good. The bride ended up on the floor in her wedding dress, being tickled by her brother. I had never seen that one before. She went upstairs to change and came down in a little tube top dress that made her look about 12. They were going to Hawaii on a honeymoon - a gift from her parents. The brides sister tried to pull down her dress and chased her around the room for a while. I went outside to talk to the dogs and throw the tennis balls for them.
I heard that after I left, the sister of the bride tried to attack the groom and warned him that he had better not hurt her sister. This did not surprise me. This wedding was one of the most enjoyable I have ever been to despite the circumstances. It was so real. And my hat is off to the parents of both the bride and groom. Sometimes all you can do is love your kids and let them make their own choices. You have to let go. You can't save everyone, not even your own.
In reality though, all families have their weird stuff. I don't call it dysfunctional, it is just what is. The only difference in my growing up family and the bride's family was that my family did not have Lou Gehrigs and cancer. They just had booze and all the drawbacks that come with being sprung from the loins of a long line of alchoholics.
From this groom, with his thinning hair, headed for a combover, I sensed something benevolent. I felt like he maybe he was a good person and it just might work. I might have been one of the few there who felt that way.
The wispy haired groom waited for the bride to come down the stairs and finally she did, despite her sister mouthing to her as she descended the stairs "Go back, take the elevator down to the garage and run away". The bride's dad, my running buddy and friend, was helped to a standing position by his two sons and he walked with her to the front of the guests, ventilator whooshing rhythmically, and arms devoid of muscle power hanging at his side. It was a touching sight. I was glad he was there to see one of his kids get married. The marrying official, a Mormon Bishop and an orthopedic surgeon I knew a long time ago, gave them a lecture about taking care of each other. Then we all introduced ourselves. My friend's aide is named Regina. When she introduced herself, a brother of the bride, who had a little bit to drink to cover his pain over his younger sister's decision said, "Do you know what Regina means in Portuguese? Gina Again!" This would not be the last time that night we would hear that. I was really surprised that no one objected. But then again, the orthopedic surgeon/marrying official wisely did not ask that question.
A few songs were sung by a friend of the parents and the traditional "do you take this woman...." vows were exchanged. The mother of the bride tried to form a line for greeting but was shot down by her daughter, who looked impossibly thin in a skin tight strapless. sleevless dress and black fishnet stockings (when did they become the in thing again?). No one really seemed too uncomfortable. The food was good. The bride ended up on the floor in her wedding dress, being tickled by her brother. I had never seen that one before. She went upstairs to change and came down in a little tube top dress that made her look about 12. They were going to Hawaii on a honeymoon - a gift from her parents. The brides sister tried to pull down her dress and chased her around the room for a while. I went outside to talk to the dogs and throw the tennis balls for them.
I heard that after I left, the sister of the bride tried to attack the groom and warned him that he had better not hurt her sister. This did not surprise me. This wedding was one of the most enjoyable I have ever been to despite the circumstances. It was so real. And my hat is off to the parents of both the bride and groom. Sometimes all you can do is love your kids and let them make their own choices. You have to let go. You can't save everyone, not even your own.
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