The Weeping Wedding (wedding season 4)

Karen and Rich's wedding was the first of nearly 2 dozen that Adal and I would attend together. I couldn't share them all, even if I thought you might be interested. After a while they begin to blur together. That's not to say each one wasn't a unique and beautiful celebration of the love of two wonderful, dear people. Just that when you attend 2 or even 3 a month, you start to see patterns. The questions that the brides agonized over are not what make a wedding memorable. Colors? Flowers? What kind of food? What kind of cake? DO we allow dancing? What kind of alcohol do we serve?  Unity candle or no unity candle? Seating chart or no?Serious and sollemn or silly? Almonds or Kisses at the table? Really, these are not the things that I remember - and, with a little perspective offered by distance, they aren't what the brides recall either.

I love watching the parents (or parent stand-ins) bursting with pride. When they have one, the daddy-daughter/ mother-son dance makes me cry. When they don't I sigh a little, wondering why.
I love seeing how truly bizzarre other families can be.
I love the little kids, all dolled up and running around.
I love watching the groom's face as his bride makes her entrance.
I love the sense that an enormous amount of goodwill is surrounding these two people. That protected feeling that almost everyone in the room (except the occasional disgruntled ex) is wishing only good things for people I care about.

There are a few weddings that really stand out, though. Like the "weeping wedding."

About 2 months after Karen & Rich's wedding, Will and Julie got married. They had only been dating since September, so the April wedding was a big surprise to all of us. The wedding happened so fast that her dad couldn't make it up from Arizona. Since he divorced her mom and married again when she was in preschool, she had only seen him twice - at her bat mitzvah and her graduation from high-school. When she got his RSVP she said she didn't care.

I was the maid of honor. I knew better.

Up until two days before the wedding I tried to talk her out of it. We all thought she should wait a little longer. I had been deputized by the girls to "talk some sense into her." Why anyone thought I would be able to, I still don't know. I talked and talked until we were both sick of hearing it. Finally, when we were out picking up flowers the day before the ceremony, she begged me to stop.
"I know it's foolish, I know we don't really have a chance," she explained, "but we have to." Looking over her shoulder, as if someone were following, she whispered "I'm pregnant."
She was so serious, so discouraged looking that at first I thought I heard her wrong. Planned or unplanned, babies are a gift from God. She should be excited. As long as I'd known her she'd looked forward to having her own family.Stil, she was looking so traumatized by the idea, that I felt the need to cry. If I could be this emotional with just 30seconds to think about it, I could only imagine what she had been going through.
I gave her a big lopsided hug. "Whoa! That's a surprise."  Given her state, I knew that "Congratulations!" wouldn't have been appropriate. I choked up a bit, thinking about this poor child whose existence had not been a cause for celebration.
Dragging her out of the flower shop, I bought her a cup of tea at a nearby bakery, and made her tell me everything. Okay, not quite everything.
Turns out that she and Will had been sleeping together since their second date. When she found out she was pregnant, her world fell apart. Her mom and grandmother were very religious, and would certainly be scandalized. Other than the father who abandoned them, they were all the family she had. She knew they'd disown her if they found out. Will agreed to marry her, though he insisted it be a civil ceremony, with none of that "religious mumbo jumbo."
My whole brain was screaming "recipe for disaster." Still, I knew she didn't need a lecture. This was one of those times that I wished she went to my church. There were so many loving older women there who were much better equipped than I to advise her. Praying for wisdom, I plunged in.
"Honey," I began, "they might be mad for a while, but they'll get over it. They love you too much to let you go forever. You are your mom's only child. She won't give up on you."
"You don't know what it's like to be Jewish. You Christians have your sin with forgiveness. We have law. Laws that are meant to keep us pure and holy. My mom would feel like I had betrayed her and God. There's no recovering from that. She'd be a failure as a parent. The whole temple would know."
Ouch. Surely that isn't how it really is. After all, at the root, we serve the same God. Of course, that might be how it was at her mom's particular temple. I'd heard of some fundamentalist Christian gatherings that would cast out members who they felt had deliberately chosen sin. I was amazed at how judgemental some people could be. They honestly thought that refusing to welcome sinners would humble them and bring them begging back full of shame and remorse. I'd never heard of this strategy actually working.
"Okay," I answered. "That is pretty bad. But what happens if your marriage doesn't work? If you get divorced, won't it be the same way?"
"Not really. When my dad left my mom, they were mad at him, not her. Besides, I won't let that happen. I'll be a good wife."
I didn't even know where to go with that one. So I left it alone. I didn't ask if she thought her mom had been a bad wife. I didn't ask how she knew who "they" were mad at, or who "they" were. I didn't ask what made her think Will wouldn't leave this marraige that wasn't his idea.
We talked a little longer, and I asked her if I could pray for her. She said yes, and made me promise not to tell anyone else what was going on.
I promised.
She asked me to stop trying to talk her out of it.
I did.  She needed all the support she could get.

So the wedding was on.
They had chosen an evening ceremony, at a small local museum. Will knew the owners. The ceremony was to be upstairs in a large banquet room, and the reception below in the rooms designated to showcase local artists. Despite the short notice, by the time her mother and his got done with the guest lists, they had over 200 people attending.
On the day of her wedding, the groom - a rather shy man - realized he was too nervous to do the ceremony with all 200 guests watching, so as they arrived, Adal directed most of them over to the reception hall, where they started the party early. He was charming and polite, and as far as I know no-one felt snubbed. Gareth joked later that it was the only time he'd been to a wedding with a bouncer.
Without her father there, the bride chose to walk down the aisle unescorted. She tried to be flip about it, as if it was no big thing, but even before I left the bride-room for my maid-of-honor march, I knew she was upset. As her chosen music began to play, I watched her determinedly putting one foot in front of the other.
Step. Pause. Step. Pause. Step.
Before the fourth step, tears were rolling down her face. There were about 40 steps to the front of the room. The 20 family memebers and close friends priveledged enough to attend the ceremony were shifting uncomfortably, glancing between the bride and groom.
Step. Pause. Step. Pause.
By the 6th step she was sobbing. Even her short veil couldn't hide the redness creeping down her neck.
Everyone held their breath. I prayed. Noone seemed to know what to do.
By step 12 she was staggering. I left my post at the front and went to her. I offered her my arm, and helped her move forward, even while whispering it wasn't too late to change her mind. She shook her head, clutched my hand, and kept moving toward the official.
Somehow she made it through the ceremony. She didn't eat a bite at the reception. Although they laughed and joked with their guests, the happy couple didn't dance at all. She insisted I stand for the boquet, and then threw it right to me. Adal caught the garter. Some of the older guests tittered, knowing we were there together. We just laughed. At the end of the night we helped the newlyweds into their car, and checked to be sure everything was cleaned up. I dropped Adal at Jamie's on my way home.

I  wish I could say that wedding was the beginning of a happier time in Julie's life. That's how it is supposed to work, isn't it? "And they all lived happily ever after...?"
Sadly, that's not how it went. After the wedding, she and I drifted apart. She stopped returning my phone calls, and didn't show up at my parties any more. I heard she was in a car accident in her 5th month and lost the baby. I stopped by with soup and flowers, but Will said she didn't want to see anyone. Her mother died of a heart attack that Christmas. The funeral was "family only," so I sent a card and flowers to the house again. I never heard if she got them. Adal found out through a friend at work that Will left her a couple weeks after their first anniversary. I went over to see her, and discovered that they had moved somtime that spring. I wouldn't see her again until our 10-year reunion.