My oldest child, Joseph, is getting married next August so it's a joyous time for our small family. He's marrying a great girl, Lauren, who he loves and who loves him. We also love her so what more could anyone ask for regarding upcoming nuptials?
I am a thinker. It's one of the things I'm best at, for better or for worse. A few events have happened in the past 24 hours to encourage said thinking. First, last night, my husband and I had dinner with Lauren's parents (along with she and Joseph), meeting them for the first time. Good Italian food coupled with meeting your future in-laws made for a winning combination. It was a good night and, thankfully, you only have to meet your future in-laws once because nerves were flowing along with the wine.
Us four parents asked get-to-know-you questions, but the ones that stay just below the surface, not far enough down for anyone to have the breath knocked out of them. Every once in a while I'd look at my son, seemingly holding his, willing me to stay in my lane and not say too much. All in all, I think I did quite well. You see, I don't do surfacy well, but this occasion called for it so I put my personal preferences aside for the sake of my son's happiness.
The question where are you from came up so we each took turns answering it. I talked of being born in Oklahoma, moving to south Jersey, then eventually ending up in Colorado. I went on to share how my parents moved from Colorado to Virginia, then moved back to Oklahoma before moving to Colorado for good when Joseph, their first grandchild, and my firstborn, was born.
Today I visited my parents in the nursing home where they now reside, a far cry from the beautiful home they had in Oklahoma that they chose to leave behind to be with their grandchild. My parents have okay days and not-so-okay days; today fell into the latter category. Sometimes I handle it well and sometimes not so well; again, today saw the latter.
Last night's conversation flashed in my mind as I told my mom that Joseph is getting married. She replied that she knew and I asked how. She said I had told her about it a long time ago (which was partly true): I mentioned it a month ago when I last visited her.
My mom turned 88 years old yesterday. Because both she and my father had always looked and acted so much younger than they were, my brother, Eric, and I never realized how old they had truly gotten. The years have taken their toll, far before they really should have, and they are both bed-bound, waiting to die.
After I told my mom about Joseph's upcoming marriage, tears filled my eyes as I realized she will never dance at his wedding. My mom loved to dance and it would have been an amazing thing to see her combine her love of dance with her love of my son. But it will never be.
I don't know why it hit me so hard, yet it did. Such things don't need to be analyzed; they simply are what they are.
My visit was cut short by two very sleepy parents so I went outside, meeting my husband, Ric, at my car. He asked how my visit went, never wanting to intrude on our visits as he has only met my parents a few times. I told him it was shitty because, well, it was. No sugar coating the truth for this girl.
As I drove home, I thought about the sheer love and joy my parents felt after becoming grandparents for the first time and how it drove them, literally and figuratively, from their dream home in Oklahoma back to Colorado. I remembered how they adored my first-born, babysitting for him often and taking him everywhere. I thought back on so many things on that short drive home, so much so that my eyes could no longer hold the tears that began to flow fast and furious. Concerned, Ric asked if I wanted him to drive.
I willed myself to get it together, silently telling myself what I was going through was not new to mankind; millions have endured the same and felt the same since the beginning of time. But this time it was ME who felt this; it was my son and my parents and all the emotions that are reserved for my situation were felt in these moments. And that is okay.
Yes, not only will my mom not dance at Joseph's wedding, she may not even be alive when he marries. If she is, there is no way she can be there. As I talked to her today, telling her I wish she could be there, she said she knew...and a countenance appeared on her face that made me think she really has made peace with not being there. I truly hope that, when the time comes, I will as well.
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