The girl’s name is Rachel.  No.  That’s not the name of the woman my son married.  Rachel is the young daughter of the bride.  She softly delivered the rose pedals along the trail to the alter.  And she very abruptly delivered the blessed event to me as well.

Leave it to my son to plan his wedding for the week after my mother’s funeral.  I guess chaos kind of runs in the family.  My regrets to his bride.  

My mom was very ill.  She fought a long and hard battle to stay alive.  It was her time.  She was 90 years old.  But emotionally, well – it was my mom.  Knowing it was her time really didn’t ease the pain all that much.  But shifting gears between death and funerals to life and weddings did help.  Well, it helped suppress some stuff.  For a while.

The week after my mama’s funeral was a busy one.  I had to work a couple of days.  One day was occupied by a “bachelor’s” drunken 10 hour round of golf with my son and his friends.  I just thank God I was unable to attend the post-golf “beer pong” matches that night.  I had to work the next day.  The day after that, I was off to Mooresville, North Carolina, a two-hour drive to the site of the wedding.

There were family issues, plans, logistics – there was so much to do.  Rehearsals, rehearsal dinners, carpooling, baby-sitting, Wal-Mart visits.  The rather grueling schedule was sort of a necessary thing to put the couple of prior weeks in perspective and, frankly, out of mind.  But we did it.  We all moved on.  All of us.

My sister was with me at the wedding.  She moved on as well.  For a short time that day.  Marilyn was my mom’s caregiver.  For years.  My mom died in Jacksonville, Florida, but she was buried next to my dad in Graham, North Carolina.  Marilyn stayed with me after the funeral so she could attend the wedding.  For months, my son, Matt and others had asked me, “So, will Marilyn be able to attend the wedding?”  For months, I told those folks the same thing.  “That’s kind of hard to say right now.”  Mama had been in the hospital since last October.  And Mama was Marilyn’s only priority.  Some of us tried to think of ways to free Marilyn’s time so she could join Matt at his wedding.  We also tried to think of ways we could “stream” the event on the Internet for Marilyn and Mama to watch from a hospital room in Jacksonville.  Well, before we could make any of those happen, Mama decided, one last time, to take care of her babies.  She decided to give my sister the freedom to be with her family during a time when Marilyn was needed.  And she was needed.  Big time.  Mama allowed my sister to attend my son’s wedding.  It was yet another “bring-the-goldfish-back-to-life” moment.  For those of you who don’t quite get the goldfish thing, it means that it was an important moment.  It was one of Mama’s grandest moments.

During the week, I kind of surprised myself.  I was grieving some, but I was more focused on what was to come next.  I guess I had to be.  There wasn’t time to do anything less.  And, of course, things were hectic.   But we all made it.  As the wedding was nearing it’s beginning, and as I was standing with Matt, his groomsmen and his young son’s in the parking lot above the plush and green and festive setting of my child’s beautiful outdoor wedding, it hit me.  For the first time.  All of my child’s milestones.  All of them.  I had been there.  And each of them were so extraordinary to such an ordinary man as me.  And this was the most extraordinary of all the milestones to date.  And my “other young-ins” were there as well.  Matt’s friends.  The kids I used to drive to sporting events and movie theaters and school functions.  My children.  They were there.  And Sy and Seth.  They were there.  I was finally in the moment and away from the details and the work and the errands and the grief that preceded this moment.  

But with the moment came the emotions I had suppressed all week.  We were outdoors, so I lit another cigarette and another again.  Tobacco is a damned good suppresser.  It was at that moment anyway.  And I composed myself a bit.  And I played the wedding party role I agreed to play.  That is until I saw her.

I walked to my spot at the alter.  Matt and his groomsmen were there as well.  So was the preacher.  Sy and Seth and Matt’s new nephew, Joe all did their parts and were in their places for the ceremony.  And I was beyond the brief emotional state from the parking lot.  Then came young and beautiful Rachel.  So tenderly dropping those perfectly shaped rose pedals along the trail for her beautiful mom to follow.  A major milestone.  That’s what young Rachel ushered in.  For my son.  And for my new daughter.  The most major of milestones.  I lost control.  

Yeh, I’m a sap, I suppose.  But I gathered myself after the “I do’s,” and focused on the reception dancing.  I really wanted to dance with a few of the women there.  Since Mama couldn’t be with us, I first wanted to dance with her sister, Barbara.  But my Aunt left before the dancing began.  We did dance for a few seconds while saying goodbye to each other.  I then wanted to dance with my new daughter – the bride.  And we tried, but she was being pulled in every direction, as new beautiful brides are prone to do.  Next it was the ex-wife.  I wanted our son to see his parents dancing at his wedding.  And we tried as well – at the exact time the “Electric Slide” was being played.  Well, I’ve never been able to dance to that damn thing, so that dance was a bust as well.  So I stood there, alone on the dance floor with my arms held out as if to say, “What the hell?”  The photographer stopped taking photographs long enough to notice my dilemma, and she joined me for a quick dance floor twirl or two.  Then she left, too.  

Look, I’m not much of a dancer.  I don’t even enjoy it that much.  But when my dance partner for the evening finally showed up, I enjoyed every step and every twirl we both could produce.  

Just as she had done earlier in the day, delivering rose pedals and the wedding to me, she delivered the celebration to me as well. Young Rachel abruptly ran onto the floor, took my hands, and we were off to dance the night away.

Continued on MoonAngels. Click HERE for “The Toast.”

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