Friday, December 16, 2005

If You're So Happy, Why Am I So Sad? A Long Letter

Dear Sport,
It's fun isn't?
It's fun have a quick engagement and a simple wedding.
Congratulations too.
I should tell you though, when I got your dashed off e-mail I was, well, a little sad. Not for you, not because you are getting married (I know she is absolutely wonderful -to think of all the hundreds of candidates that she beat out!) More because weddings make me sad.
They make me sad because I always bought into that seminary teacher statement "The day that you are married will be THE BEST day of your whole life....(and then the scary admonition)
...if you are worthy."
Did I ever tell you about my first wedding?
Coming out of the temple, I felt like someone had just drained all the blood out of my body. Everything, everyone, was in slow motion. Arriving to the wedding luncheon at Riverside Country Club afterwards, I remember people standing up and clapping as we passed tables of friends.
S-l-o-w M-o-t-I-o-n.
And there I was, with a gorgeous bouquet, thinking I am fooling everyone here. I am miserable. What have I done?
Let's see though, that wasn't very constructive for a person in your position.
Did I ever tell you about my second wedding?
Coming out of the Clark County Recorder's Office in Las Vegas, I felt like so clever. I had just done something wickedly independent and enormously sly. I laughed and Christopher giggled (do grown men giggle?) as we walked down the street, me in my wedding dress and Christopher in his suit. The clouds were white and puffy. The sky was the bluest I had ever seen it. It was good to be alone, just the two of us. It made a precedent for our marriage.
I didn't think about those who might have wanted to be there, for instance his family who had waited thirty years for this big occasion.
Lots of fun, no regrets, most spontaneous thing I'll ever do, but the BEST day of my life?
Did I ever tell you about my sealing?
Coming out of the Provo Temple, I felt joy. We were sealed, by my grandfather, at night so when we came out it was dark, and there was nobody waiting to take our pictures by the fountain. We just walked out, hand-in-hand, looking at the stars. On the way to our cozy sealing dinner we pulled over for a bit and took deep breaths.
It was a beautiful day.
And I am sure I was worthy (phew!), and yet, I couldn't say, still that it was the BEST day of my life.
For me best days of my life are happening all the time. All the time. On my wedding day I was so immature, so silly and so naive. How could I have been as happy as I am now? I wasn't near as happy!
If our weddings are the best day then what is there to look forward to?
The more you are married, the more you love your spouse (hopefully) so your wedding should actually be the LEAST best day of your life. It is a wonderful day because you make serious covenants with your spouse and the Lord and that is just the beginning right?
To expect the culminating experience of your relationship on your wedding day is a very nonsensical thing anyway. Or anything for that matter. What if you never do marry? Never have children? (And if you do have children, is the birth of child number 1 better than child number 2?) Never have the house with the wrap around porch? What would the seminary teacher say to that?
So, I guess I am sad at weddings because I think, they should be quiet things. Small beginnings.
Maybe starting with a bang isn't always the best idea.
I'd rather celebrate in two years when the couple, one day, decide that it really doesn't matter how family home evening was run in their respective households and they, following the spirit, subtly come up with their own method.
Or in twenty years when they survive their first home remodeling.
Or in thirty-five years when they are empty nesters.
Or in one month when they survive their first marital spat.
Or the morning, when they roll over, and look at their sleeping spouse, and realize how very lucky they are.
Those are the best days of all.
P.S. We will always be friends right?
Things I have admired of you through the 28 years of our lifetime:
You wore a Hawaiian shirt to the first day of Mrs. Nelson's second grade class and I loved it.
We played soccer together and ate quartered oranges at half time.
You were my first kiss in sixth grade, at Kevin's mansion, as the sun was setting.
Years later we drank fermented apple juice out of the juice machine at Kevin's mansion.
I took you on your first date, you responded with a frozen burrito.
I wanted to go to the Senior Dinner Dance with you and you didn't ask me.
After our missions we attended the temple together with Kevin -he no longer lived at his mansion.
After my divorce we went to St. George with my sisters and mom.
We went to the Olympic's Bare Naked Ladies concert and froze.
And don't forget Valentine's Day in NYC, please don't forget that!
Last of all, remember how we went to our 10 year high school reunion together, because we both wouldn't go alone?
We are so cool. So cool.