At my first postpartum checkup, the doctor asked how the
baby was doing. “He’s great,” I replied, “except that he cries whenever he’s
not being held.” With great prescience, the doctor replied, “Ahh, well, the day
will come when you will cry because you can no longer hold him.”
Almost a quarter of a century later, that day has arrived.
On Sunday, my son is getting married to a wonderful, brilliant, sweet, and
beautiful young woman who is as madly in love with him as he is with her. The
tears will come, but they will be tears of happiness.
Except. When they announced that they were getting married
in Hawaii, which is halfway between her family and ours, I blithely offered to
perform the wedding rather than hiring a stranger to do the deed. What was I thinking? When Caroline got
married ten months ago, it wasn’t a problem to discreetly wipe the tears way
whenever the pastor prayed. I was able to remain mostly composed. As the
officiant, there will be few opportunities to wipe my tears away unseen. Not only that, but once I start crying, I don’t
stop, either.
I always assure couples during pre-marital sessions that no
matter what glitches happen the day of the wedding, they will be married at the
end of the day, no matter what. I also promise them that, even if they get overwhelmed
during the ceremony, they only have to look to me and I will tell them what to
say or do next. I can’t guarantee much of anything to Winn and Farani if I’m a
sobbing mass of tears.
I was confiding my fears to Winn the other day. “What if you
end up not married, because I couldn’t get through the ceremony?” “Well then,
Mom, I’ll be homeless.” “Homeless?” “The
lease on my apartment ends on May 1, and all my stuff will have been moved to
Farani’s apartment. If we’re not married, then I’ve got nowhere to live.”
Okay. I’ll suck it up and get them married. The words of
that doctor will come true that day, but not until I’ve done my job to the best
of my abilities. After the ceremony- and
after the pictures, I hope, so that my face won’t be all blotchy- then the
joyful tears will flow.
(Picture of Winn on his baptism day, November 1988.)
