Hey there, time traveller!
This article was published 15/10/2013 (1106 days ago), so information in it may no longer be current.
When my oldest son had been dating his girlfriend for a couple of years, I wondered if they were going to get married.
When they moved in together after five years, I wondered when they were going to get married. Despite my best efforts at persuasive parenting (some call it nagging), the ring-less relationship continued
Four more years, with a precious grandddaughter and another on the way I continued to ask for a date.
One day I asked my husband, "When are these kids going to get married?"
To which he replied, "They have been together for almost 10 years; they are obviously committed to each other, why do you want them to get married?"
He was right (I hate when that happens). We gave our son the right tools to make mature, adult decisions and it was time to let him do that. So I stopped nagging, and within three months there was a ring.
Although we had watched his evolution from rebellious teen to homeowner, committed family man and devoted father, the process of preparing for my son’s wedding was like watching my baby walk through a door that closed just a little with every flower purchased, every tuxedo rented, every cake tasted.
I had no idea I would feel this way and I kept my silly feelings hidden under the mounds of fine, artificial flowers, shiny stones and crystals that would become centrepieces for the reception.
Aug. 24, 2013 will be remembered as the hottest, muggiest, windless day of the entire year. Suit jackets were off, expensive hair-dos went limp and everyone prayed their deodorant would hold out.
I sat in the front row on a crisp white folding chair, thankful for a stable seat since my heels — and those of half the women there — were aerating the lawn at the outdoor ceremony.
The bells tolled and up the aisle came my handsome son. His gait was a relaxed saunter with his right hand in one pocket and a light-hearted smile on his face. He looked like he’d walked right out of a bride’s magazine.
Next come the girls, including my beautiful granddaughters in all their princess finery.
Finally, their mother accompanied by her parents, appeared and right then, right there, I knew.
Although she took my breath away with her beauty that day, she did not take my son; he was freely given and I am so very proud she is part of our family.
Cher Hebert is a community correspondent for East St. Paul. She can be contacted at firstname.lastname@example.org.