I danced at their wedding. And I cried at their wedding. And later, as I revisited that day, asked myself “Why does one cry at weddings?”
My son’s wedding last December was one of the most profound, amazing, soul-reaching experiences of my life. It was the joyous culmination of careful planning, and the momentous fruition of a couple’s dream.
As I reflected, I thought of what my son had asked me earlier last year on Mother’s Day: whether, before he was born, when I was expecting him, if I could have seen any of this, i.e. the way his life had unfolded.
I remember telling him I never envisioned how life would be, for us or for him. That I just prayed this baby in my body would be healthy, safe and happy. A prayer I’ve had for him every day of his life, and continue to pray for him and his wife, our new daughter.
It’s all so real, yet it seems like a dream, this wedding.
I think back to that moment, our family sitting up front in that magnificent, old Scottish church. I hear again the glorious strains of Pachelbel’s Canon as we watch the dazzling bride walk up the aisle to stand at the altar beside my son, to exchange vows and promises that will make them husband and wife.
I see my handsome baby boy, the son who nourished our lives, today a young man standing proud and confident, maybe a little nervous, facing his bride. I feel truly blessed, so supremely happy. I feel the ecstasy and well-being that has overtaken my soul from the moment I woke up that day.
Throughout the service, my heart is full but my eyes stay dry. I feel that I’m doing very well.
On my right is my lovely daughter, and she is sobbing profusely. I cannot understand why but I put my arms around her.
Then the ceremony is over and everyone files out of the church to greet the new couple outside. I wait for some moments until I see my son standing alone and tentatively go over to hug him.
And I am undone.
It is all so perfect, so beautiful, even the rainless day for which I had prayed. I cry. And wished I could just go on weeping.
Common sense tells me this is a happy moment and we need to take pictures. My tears subside but linger below the surface, threatening to bubble over again.
The rest of that day unfolds into evening and the festivities of the reception. I savour the fine and elegant meal, and allow myself to be delightfully heady with champagne.
Around me the harmony of musical instruments mingles with conversation and joyful chatter. Toasts and speeches are made.
The bride’s mother and groom’s father welcome the groom and bride into their respective families. They reminisce about the childhood and growing up years of our children, now the glowing couple sitting at the table beside ours.
And with their words flow my tears. I wished I could just go away and sit in a corner and cry until I was all out of tears, but I knew this was not a course open to me.
I also wanted to miss not one moment of these celebrations that would too soon be over. So I sat and closed my eyes and retreated behind my tears for a minute. And spent the rest of the evening leaning into the arms of my husband as we savoured together this precious occasion.
So, I believe, the heart becomes a scintillating, exquisite glass of champagne: fragile, filled to the brim, bubbling through its core, ready to spill over with the barest excess.
So when our heart grows so full it might burst, our tears are just those sweet and glistening champagne bubbles cascading over the brim of our elation and overwhelming love tears are our heart’s outpouring of those emotions that can no longer be contained in its finite vessel.
And now, every so often, I look at the beautiful gown I wore to the wedding, and am overwhelmed all over again with nostalgia for that most glorious day.
I think of dancing, canapés and champagne. I wonder if or when I’ll wear that dress again. I think of my new daughter and how she must feel whenever she sees her stunning wedding gown. I hope she remembers it all with joy.
I pray she and her new husband will share many evenings, through summer’s warmth or winter’s cold, reminiscing as they sip champagne from their new crystal glasses.
I hope their hearts will overflow with cherished memories of a truly sublime wedding day.
Celia Jaipaul is a freelance writer from Red Deer.