First Wedding

Yesterday I went to a co-worker's wedding. My first wedding since G died. First wedding without him by my side since my brother got married in 2003.

A friend went with me and I was surrounded by friends while I was there. Couples that G and I had mentored. Couples that had done premarital counseling with us.

During the ceremony, I couldn't help comparing the service that the pastor led to how G would do it. G had officiated many weddings. And while this pastor's words felt a bit generic and he had to refer to his notes a few too many times to make it seem personal, G would've spoken powerfully, intimately, and from the heart. G loved married. He loved and celebrated love. He was a romantic at heart - always too fast to ask couples (or assume) if they were in love. Always ready to chase his emotions and get caught up in the moment. Always knowing people - never someone who would have to refer to his notes.

I remembered how he would always say, "By the power invested in me by the state of Pennsylvania - and MUCH more importantly by Jesus Christ - I now pronounce you husband and wife". Loved that emphasis <3. It was so very G. Everything he did was so very G.

The groom cried as his bride walked down the aisle - just like G did at our wedding. Though G held his chest and sobbed <3. Like everything else, he emoted big.

But it wasn't the sweetness and excitement of the young couple and the brand-new marriage that got me. While they spoke their vows, I was reminded again that I fulfilled my vows to G. In sickness and in health, for richer, for poorer, for better for worse... we did it all. I was faithful. He was faithful. Until death do us part - and it did. I fulfilled my vows and our marriage is over because death did us part. I felt a sense of accomplishment and pride - proud of us - those 22 year old kids that we were- making huge promises and by God's grace fulfilling every one.

It was later in the reception that got me. The couple asked an older couple to come to the dance floor. It was their 39th wedding anniversary. We all clapped and they danced together. They were obviously older - middle aged. Not in perfect shape or perfect health. A couple who had lived 39 years of life together. They were both very emotional as they danced. Tears streaming down both of their faces. And they had the sweetest kiss. Not the passionate kiss of a newlywed. The knowing, comforting, companionable kiss of a couple who has been together for decades. Who knows all the good and bad. Who is not in the bloom of beauty and youth. Who has weathered the storms. Who are best friends even when they are sick of each other. Who are living out their vows for years and years and have a history together that no one else could even begin to know.

That kiss did me in. The tears started - too intense to stay at my seat and I had to flee to the bathroom to let them out.

Because that's what I miss. Being known. Doing life. Our history. Our story. Our commitment.

Yes, I miss romance and being pursued and butterflies in my stomach and sexual intimacy.

But I miss even more his presence. His rough hands because he refuses to use lotion. The little "Keeshes" as we would call a kiss. The looks across a room or a table. Knowing what he would say next. Hearing his footsteps on the stairs and knowing it was him. Piles of socks. Piles of pillows. Warmth in the bed. Someone to ask for a hug. Feeling frustrated with each other. Not having to explain myself. Arguing at weddings. Him having my back and me having his.

I miss that which is irreplaceable. Gone with him.

I may have romance again. I may get married again. But I will never have the relationship I had with G. My first love. Because that was as unique as we are together. And it will take time. Oh so much time with someone else to develop the intimacy - the knowing - the accepting of the good and the bad.

I will always miss that part of me that was ripped away when G died. The hole that cannot be filled. The future that we do not have.

I miss my best friend, my partner, my love. I am okay. I am moving forward. I do believe that my life may have beauty and love in the future. But a different kind. Old, weathered love. So valuable, so beautiful, so fragile.