Wedding brings back memories

Monica and Jason's wedding definitely was a three-tissue event for most.

It was on the Gulf Coast at sunset. The purple, pink and orange sky outlined an historic lighthouse. The guests crunched their toes in the cool sand as the bride and groom promised to love and protect each other all the days of their lives.

Even I almost broke my strict no-more-crying-in-public policy for this event.

(My policy was enacted after an employee review my supervisor opted to deliver in a busy coffee shop. For some bizarre reason, I thought she picked that public setting because my review would be positive. Now I know she thought it was less likely I'd kill her in front of that many witnesses.)

I'll admit, I got a little verklempt. The couple, friends and former co-workers, took a roundabout way to that beachfront altar. But today, they're one of those golden couples. Homeowners. Great jobs. He's handsome, she's beautiful; gorgeous children are a lock.

But looking at my fellow wedding guests, I knew all those damp eyes weren't just for Monica and Jason, perfect couple or not. We cry at weddings -- at least in part -- because of how they relate to our own lives.

Some in attendance may be wondering why they haven't found someone to share their lives. Others might be remembering their own joyous wedding days.

Me? Well, my anniversary is Monday. Eight years.

Our marriage started in our mid-20s at the local courthouse. I wore a black pantsuit because I couldn't waste money on a dress I wouldn't be wearing again.

Our "reception" was happy hour on the deck at the Bel Air Grill. Our honeymoon was strictly Southeast Missouri: "After a weekend trip to downtown St. Louis, the couple makes their home in Sikeston."

But the worst part was my attitude about the whole thing. You know how everybody says you can't go into a marriage with the attitude that you can always get divorced if it doesn't work out? Not only did I go into the marriage with that attitude, I actually said it out loud!

So, at Monica and Jason's wedding, I got a little weepy remembering that.

Our first couple years of marriage were pretty rough. If we had a dollar for every time we threatened divorce, I'd be writing this column from Hawaii. But we didn't. Mutual debt kept us together through the hard times.

So, at Monica and Jason's wedding, I choked back a sob remembering that.

It was only in the past year, though, I realized I'd never fully invested myself in the marriage. I didn't want to be one of those women left emotionally and financially crippled upon the departure of her spouse.

I'd still prefer to avoid that outcome, but I told The Other Half I'd be investing my whole heart in the relationship from here on out. He didn't have to do the same, but I would, I said.

Complete silence on his end. (How embarrassing for me.) But a few weeks later, he overcame his machismo and said he was in it for good, too.

So, at Monica and Jason's wedding, I wiped away a single tear remembering that.

OK, OK. So I cried in public. Between the lovely couple and my own memories, it was unavoidable.

There were pieces of paper at the reception where guests could fill out wishes for the bride and groom. I skipped it because I didn't know what to say that wouldn't sound trite.

But here's what I should have said:

I wish you all the happiness and contentment possible in marriage. And I hope it doesn't take you eight years to figure out how to get it.

Heidi Hall is managing editor of the Southeast Missourian.