From This Day Forward …

If you are a regular reader of my blog you know that this past weekend was a special one in my life.

Our oldest son was married.

It will likely be many weeks before I have photos of the day.  In the meantime, I have only a small handful of pictures I managed to take.  I thought it would be terribly inappropriate of me to be a paparazzi at my son’s wedding so I resisted the temptation to be snap-happy.

I do however have some memories to share about the day.

(1) I didn’t cry.  

I’m rather proud of that.

Yes, my eyes did get a little welly a few times, but my heart was so full of joy, there simply wasn’t room for tears.  I looked at the tissues the wedding planner had left discreetly by my seat and I smiled.  They wouldn’t be needed after all.

(2) Savouring the moment isn’t as easy as it sounds.

I had the honour of walking my son down the aisle.

I wanted to freeze-frame every step of that walk as we held hands like we did when he was young.  I wanted to remember every face in the crowd, every smile, every heart beat.

… but it was like trying to hold water.

Each moment was so slippery, sliding away from me even as it was happening.

I remember nothing except the feel of Jordan’s hand in mine – a man’s hand rather than the child I still remember.

(3) It’s an odd experience when your worlds collide.

Gilles and I are both transplants.  Our respective families live far away – in opposite directions – and particularly for me, I rarely get to see my siblings together.

Only once have our two families ever gathered together … and that was for our own wedding 35 years ago.  Not surprisingly, it felt bizarre to have our Quebec family in the same room as our Ontario family.

However, it was even more surreal to have our closest friends, from different layers of our life, in the same room with each other and with our families.  Up until that moment, these worlds had never intersected.

It felt a little bit like having my heart exposed.

(4) Mingling is really hard work.

In spite of our best efforts, it was impossible to spend any quality time with anyone.  The most important people in our lives had gathered for this special day and yet we didn’t have the opportunity to do more than exchange pleasantries.

I felt a bit like a bumblebee bouncing from flower to flower.

(5) Sometimes things just work out perfectly.

Every detail was as it should have been – even the weather.  That in itself was a minor miracle for an outdoor event in early June in Canada.

Gilles and I had seen the venue only once – on a frigid evening in January.  What awaited us on this June day was a magical oasis in the centre of the city hidden from the street by a high fence.  It too was perfect.

My heart is still full and this happy glow is likely going to persist for a long while.