This is one of those articles that I type in advance. You see, not long before typing this article, I received the invitation for the event surrounding the publishing of this article (have fun sorting out the temporal logistics of that one). The event in question is my mother’s wedding.
It feels strange. When one grows up in a stable family built upon a solid marriage, one never expects to attend the wedding of one of their parents. I married years ago, my sisters shortly after. I have attended the weddings of friends and cousins. But I never thought I’d see this wedding. Like many children, I suffered under the subconscious delusion that dad was somehow immortal.
It seems like it wasn’t long ago that my father, affectionately referred to here as the Pastor Sensei, moved on from this life. Like Yoda’s robe, the body dad left behind was just a cancer-ridden earthsuit he’d outgrown. He died a week shy of his 30th wedding anniversary and he was still crazy about mom.
Yet it has been longer than it seems. When my dad died, my daughter was still crawling around in diapers, and my son was not even on the radar. Now, my daughter is a year from school, my son is older than his sister was when dad passed, and a third child is on the horizon. Life is as time and tide. It too, waits for no one. The living keep on going about their business while the deceased wait. And that old grief now sits next to joy.
My mother has been lucky enough to not only find love once, but twice. The man she has chosen understands that he will never replace dad. He has shown interest in learning about my dad so that he can understand the influence dad had on us. He treats mom well and with respect. He treats all of us well. My children already like him.
My mother has moved on, as she should. As my family and I must do as well. We are lucky to have Keith enter our family as mom enters his. A new chapter begins, and I cannot wait to see where the story goes next.