I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again.
I LOVE LOVE. I DO, I DO, I REALLY REALLY DO.
Especially stories that involve the union of lovers, in a picturesque setting, amongst their closest family and friends. The public declaration of “I am yours and you are mine, forever and always”. The decision to wed, to have a wedding and to nurture a marriage for as long as they both shall live. These are my favourite kind of love stories.
Being a part of someone’s great love by attending their wedding day is a special privilege. What makes it so special is that you’ve watched as their story as unfolded.
When you’ve seen the giddy optimism of the initial dating stage, coupled with all the uncertainty of not knowing how it will all unfold.
When you’ve watched and heard and heard some more about how much the lovers love each other, as the uncertainty turns into certainty.
When you’ve seen life throw the couple some really shit circumstances. Like super-duper, astronomically tough, “WHAT THE ACTUAL HELL, THIS CAN’T BE HAPPENING, THIS SHOULDN’T BE HAPPENING”, ridiculously unfair circumstances.
When you’ve watched as the lovers chose to hold onto to each other despite it all. To hope for and believe in a future together – COME WHAT MAY.
To attend a wedding when you know the fight that it’s taken for the lovers to be there is something special. It is something worth celebrating. It’s worth the long the drives, the expensive flights and the torrential rain because what a sight to BEHOLD.
Girl, enters the completely full chapel on a hill, proud dad on her arm. Boy, standing at the top of the aisle, brings hands to his mouth in gasping manner – overwhelmed by his bride. There is not a doubt in a single mind that these lovers have earned this joyous celebration of their love.
What an honour it was to be a part of love in the rain.
S.
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