Okay, I’ll put my hand up. I cry at weddings. I tear up when I see the groom surrounded by his posse of groomsmen, eager young men milling at the front of the church, their overly loud laughter masking a certain anxiousness while the main man tries to stay aloof from the tomfoolery.
My eyes well when the music heralds the arrival of the bride, a whisper shimmies through the room and we turn expectantly to the entrance. At yesterday’s wedding the ring bearer, a tiny two and a half year old in a miniature suit, baulked at the threshold and his older sister, a flower girl ethereal in white, had to coax him down the aisle.
But while the congregation craned for their first glimpse of the bride I was watching the groom, waiting for that instant when his face lit up, incandescent with joy, a sheen to his eyes, a flush to his cheeks, love clear in his smile. I didn’t need the murmurs of those around me to tell me the bride looked stunning because the proof was there in the groom’s face. And that’s when I weep for the promise of a new marriage, with all its challenges and rewards.
Weddings remind me of my own vows and the distance I’ve travelled since I stuttered my way through them (I cried for the look on Capt G’s face as I walked towards him.) Weddings provide a quiet moment to remember a marriage is so much more than I expected it to be.
Weddings also feed the romantic in my soul and I love being able to tap into that emotion when I write. Most particularly I love trying to capture that second in time when the groom’s heart is there in his eyes for the world to see. It transcends any ethnic difference, any cultural restraints. Love is universal and a wedding reminds me of its power.
Thanks, Kristy and Simon, for allowing me to share in your special moment.