The beautiful couple is my Godson and his new wife. The wedding was sweet, and short, and their adoration toward eachother was so apparent throughout the day.
The flowers were simple, but beautiful, they were just right.
The exchange of vows was romantic, and sincere, and yes, of course I cried.
They lit the unity candle in perfect synchronization.
The flower girl offered rose petals for everyone to throw as they exited the church.
And we danced.
* * * * *
It was a weekend of remembering, of smiling, laughing, hugging, and eating. It was a weekend of meeting people again that I haven’t seen in ages. And on the way home, it was a time of reflection.
In my 19 years away, look at all that I’ve missed. I’ve missed watching the childhood of my Godson – going to his baseball games, birthday parties, and graduations. I’ve cherished a photo of him when he was just a toddler and it was as though my mind didn’t think of him as a person who would grow up, fall in love, and get married.
I’ve missed my cousins being born – and met one of them, an adult, that I’ve never met before. I’m on the outside of the inside jokes. I’m loved, yes, from a distance and with casual yet formal hugs and smiles. I am the one they thank for traveling a distance (though it’s not a very big one) to visit.
It’s amazing to me how much life happens in 19 years. How not being nearer to your family means you will miss it, unless you make it a point not to. I spent some time mourning the things I missed, but also being so grateful that this realization hit me when it did. I won’t be the one who sits idly by and waits for an invitation to be with my family. I need to be the one to call, to remember, to make the effort – because if I’m not, no one will.
What a wonderful, beautiful, emotional weekend.
How far do you live from your family, and how often do you see the ones you love?