The Wedding Season

My five siblings and I were raised on funerals. Every year someone in our extended family would die and we’d be carted off to a funeral home for two nights of a wake and a funeral the following day. It is a recurring joke among all of us – the funeral home of choice with the cluster of grapes wallpaper that hung behind the casket, the extra good behavior required for three days straight, my cousin’s wife who saw a set of keys in a door in the room where cookies and orange juice were being served, my cousin who told her not to open it, the look of horror on her face when she did and a dead body was on a table, followed by my cousin saying, “What in the hell did you think was going to be in there?”

Our family lore was death. Then came the really hard ones – the teenage cousins with the heart conditions, young family friends with tragic endings, our dad, Mark, and then our mom. We arrived at them all dressed in condolences and sorrow under the guidance of our parents who believed that not showing up for the grieving was a sin.

This year, in accordance with our familial pattern, started with another death when our cousin died. “He was like an older brother to all of us,” my brother said and nothing could be more true. Hal was an architect – beloved and cool to the core, and there were half of us, older and wiser and at another funeral home with his brokenhearted wife, clothed in disbelief that the last of our extended family was gone.

But what followed starting in May was the family wedding season. The first was my brother’s oldest son, Danny, who made Brittany his bride after a long engagement. They went to the Dominican Republic and married in front of family then had a reception in Indiana at the event space where the town’s farmers market had been held hours before. It was cool and overcast all day and then the sun came out along with the wedded bliss. They looked over-the-moon happy, we ate, drank, and danced, and for the first time in many years our family witnessed joy instead of sadness.

In June, my sister’s oldest son, Liam, married Emily. Their wedding was at an athletic club/hotel in downtown Chicago. Michael and I arrived to a welcome bag in our room, the kids in hotels nearby. The following day we explored the city then headed back to get ready. They glowingly became husband and wife and we were escorted to the library for cocktails and appetizers while the room was broken down and reset for the reception. Next came an incredible meal followed by toasts, a photo booth, late-night sliders, and dancing until midnight.

Three months later the same sister’s oldest daughter, Caitlin, married Nick. They met on a dating site, and as the story goes, the plan was to meet in person at a bar nearby after getting to know each other via text. My niece had every intention of bailing but her mom insisted that she go, that maybe this guy was different and she was proven right. Earlier in the day we took the architecture boat tour on the Chicago River, had lunch, and did a little shopping. Our Uber driver asked why we were in town and I told him for a wedding. When he assumed it was the following day, I told hime that it was in a few hours. “It’s today?!! Well I need to get going so you can get back to your hotel and get dolled up!” We power-napped then put on our fancy clothes and arrived at the venue with friends and family from near and far. It was a perfect night and cheer and gratitude sprung from every corner.

On the other side of the coin, two of my sister-in-laws are experiencing heartache within their own families. In fact, since I started writing this there has been a gutting death within the family of my brother’s wife less than three weeks after a devastating diagnosis.

Many years have passed since the days of our youth when our parents dragged us to one funeral after another. I was too young at the time to know that they were showing us how life ebbed and flowed. And in between, what I also learned from them is that on those rare occasions when life winks at you and says, “Listen to me, whatever you do you don’t miss this part. They’ll be hugs and toasts and tears and it will fill your cup to overflowing,” and you RSVP, get dolled up, and dance the night away.