View from the backseat.
We knew it wouldn’t be easy.
Sixteen hundred miles, a rehearsal dinner, and a wedding, all in three days. Traveling
in a rented minivan with two children, one six and one three. Three drivers, one half-blindish.
But it was totally worth it.
We drove, we laughed, we argued, we cried, we danced, we celebrated, we remembered. We
sunned and swam and made sand castles.
We were late. Once we were somehow early. We lost things and found them. We sang in the car. We ate and drank and loved each other in
spite of ourselves.
The wedding was beautiful as was the bride, my recently-lost
brother’s youngest. Also beautiful was the officiant, his oldest, already vigorously pedigreed, just ordained
online. And, of course, their mother,
who is always gorgeous and impeccable.
I couldn’t help but
wonder if the bride's choice not to walk down the aisle was an homage to her
father, who would have given anything to be there.
Now that the miles and the "Are we in Delaware yet?"s are behind us and the expenses are safely ensconsed on my credit card for future consideration, I'm so glad my daughter and her family and I were able to attend my niece's wedding in Bethany Beach, Delaware, especially now that my brother, who was the tether that attached me to this part of my family, is gone. My nieces and I share DNA and they and their mother and I have memories in common, all of them involving a man we loved so deeply.
We made some new memories this past weekend, and, as always, my brother was right there.
The Bride, the Groom, her Mother, and Sister
My Daughter and Me
Georgia and Miles letting off steam during a break.
