12 years in the making OR every picture tells a story.
I’m choosing that title, in case you’re wondering, just as I’m sure you must be wondering re the song choice for a wedding day and the answer is it’s just as apt. It is twelve years now since my wee girl, first sold her husband a lunchtime roll in the local Spar shop–a shop my big girl also met her husband in. Must be the little shop of romance that one. That was then, this is now. Now she is a lawyer for those who need one most, and he has his own successful joinery business. I like to think life brings its own rewards.
I say that because when you see the 12 years you may be thinking that’s a long time to be together before making this official. There are many marriages that don’t last a quarter as long. Or maybe, given the average cost of a wedding these days, is that how long it took to save up? But the title says in the making and that’s what it’s been. Quite a number of those twelve years were spent apart, some of them in dark places. I’m not choosing to show these pictures and share a few stories of the day to say, ‘yes, do look at how wonderful and perfect we all are, as a family and there’s them in that grand venue with their little boy and all,’ I’m choosing them to say, ‘here’s where we are on the journey.’ Every step on a journey has to be lived after all and when you get to certain bits…well.. yeah you celebrate what you cherish. I say in my new book, ‘We are the life we lead, its graces and its pain,’ and that is true.
Every picture tells a story. So this one…
It’s the years they took to get here. But they are here. And yep… special moment– the reading? The reading was from Emily Bronte’s Wuthering Heights… If all else perished. (Okay I knew about that bit, I ‘fess up, she ran three possibilities past me and I said it has to Bronte, there’s a cathedral in these towering words, especially when you think of her life and the book she produced for the time she wrote in.)
“He’s more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same. If all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be; and if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the universe would turn to a mighty stranger.”
That first pic at the top of the blog. Well? That’s all the bride and bridesmaids getting in the swing after the older girl had spent the morning lying in a chair with a sick bucket and we all made jokes about carting her down the aisle like that, saying to folks, ‘Braw night we had last night…’ and one of the other girls who does not do hair and makeup but was quite taken with how good she looked, shimmied down behind in her Jurassic Park jammies. The older girl had a sickness bug bto and did not manage much of the reception. But still she managed this…..
As you can see from the second pic up there, these girls turned round and were all swans…
This one here…
Totally belies the absolute high jinks and laughter, to the extent the handymen preferred to put a ladder up outside and climb up to open a painted shut window, rather than take their chances with us ladies… But they had to eventually–poor things. They were quick enough to come back for more ribbing though, bringing big fans to cool the ailing matron of honour. Oh and the ladder left up and the fact we could all be heard right where the guests were arriving—above the piper too, which is saying something –led to a ton of jokes about the bride doing a runner in her trainers…
Of course our special wee grandie best man had to get in on the action.
The other side to this picture…? When I brought him in, to see his Sheshe Bear he looked all round going she is not here and his wee face all fell… only because he did not recognize her.
So? My special moments? All of these. Hearing the saxophonist who played at my other girl’s drinks reception bit, play again. Seeing the bridal party come up the aisle and stand while Alice Marra who has the voice of an angel sung and I could see the registrar’s face going from that is not a wedding song to…oh my…… Clocking my new son in law, mouthing.. wow, she is beautiful… to me as Sheeshe Bear stood beside him. Dancing every dance. Being with those who were there. Both my wee grandies. Enjoying the most beautiful sunshine and warmth outside. Watching the grandie who was the page boy at my older girl’s wedding building lego with the flower girl from that one as opposed to trying to impress her with his dancing skills.
Which truth to tell are now so no bad the band played specially for him at one point, off the cuff. But above it all was his speech, five years old. It was seeing him have the ability to stand there at the table and tell everyone his daddy was his best friend, his mummy was beautiful but he loved it best when she gave him cuddles.
It may have been 12 years in the making but it has been worth every minute of waiting. Pictures do tell stories indeed. Friday was a day of life’s graces.
P.S. I reckon the story on the pic above is that having made a bold failed attempt on the butterflies on the hat, this babba grandie now considers her chances with the necklace…. Also foiled. Never mind, cuz, said the wee best man, you can’t have it all. ‘least you tried, kid. At least you tried….