'til death do us part

aka two weddings and two funerals

In the last eight or so months I have attended two weddings and two funerals. It feels like there has to be some significance in this. Four very different events with a lot in common, strangely: people get dressed up, join friends and family at a church, shed some tears, and say beautiful things about the 'guest(s) of honour'.

I have never attend a funeral where someone spoke ill of the dead. It's as if the good things are easier to remember than the bad things. Maybe it is selective amnesia. Maybe it is cognitive dissonance. Maybe you are the sum of what people choose to remember about you.

In July 2014 my grandmother passed away 12 days after her 94th birthday. I don't remember anything bad about her. She lived with us for a large part of my youth. At least 10 years. I had so many years with her, and I sometimes feel like I hardly knew her. I regret not sitting with her more often as an adult (even young adult), writing down her stories, her history. I don't think anyone sits at a funeral thinking "I should have spent less time with this guy". Unless that person was bad to the bone.

My grandma only had bad bones.

Her body failed her in the end, but she never failed us. She prayed for us every night of her life.

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Although this is a very old photo, it's kind of how I remember my gran even know.

As mentioned I also attended the two weddings. I always cry at weddings. Seeing the bride walk towards her husband, eyes full of wonder, ready to promise, to commit, until death. Whenever that might be. If you are lucky, it will be decades away. In which case you better be damn sure of this person you're committing to. If you have even the remotest sense of doubt, don't do it! But then on the other hand, life might be painfully short. Do fatalistic people make decisions more rashly?

In January two friends finally got married. It took them 16 years.
In February a friend lost his wife to an aggressive cancer a mere 10 months after getting married.
And in April another friend, who when through a horrible divorce recently, is getting a second chance at a happy marriage.

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 Okay, so what is the point of this terribly emo post? Sitting in churches honouring beautiful people affirms something my dad often says: you need the darkness to recognise the light.  


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