On Saturday, my family celebrated the wedding of our daughter, Laura, to our new son, Chris. It was a wonderful day that we had been building up to with increasing anticipation and focus.
In the weeks and days leading up to the nuptials, I was surprised by the number of people who asked if I was nervous. It struck me as a strange query. My part in the ceremony was minimal. With great pride and joy I would escort Laura down the aisle — with all eyes on her — and then say four words: “Her mother and I.” On a personal level, there wasn’t much for me to be nervous about. If their questions implied a deeper significance, no one bothered to clarify. Even so, most were surprised when I shook my head “no.”
On the day of the festivities, I was often asked, “How do you feel?” Granted, my emotional disposition is not readily apparent to most people, but that question also struck me as a bit odd. I was (and am) ecstatic for Laura and Chris’s marriage, excited about the journey they are beginning, delighted at the opportunities they have before them, and most proud of the union that has begun. Their wedding is an affirmation to the work of their respective parents for the past twenty plus years and a pleasant reminder that despite a few parenting deficiencies along the way, the end result is two mature adults ready to start a life of their own. For me to feel anything less is incomprehensible.
A third question — and this one understandable — has been commonly voiced now that the wedding over: “How did it go?” Succinctly, it was wonderful. True, a few minor elements could have gone better or differently, but all the important things transpired as planned and without a hitch. We were most pleased with the ceremony and the reception embodied simple elegance; guests made many positive comments about both.
A few people did make remarks about “losing a daughter” or Dan now being “an only child,” but that’s not how we see it — our family has grown — and we couldn’t be happier.