I don’t really like weddings. Promises. I hate it in all the cop shows when the detective “promises” she’ll get the killer. She should know better.
Another one I missed. S’okay. Lost my best friend from prep school and college. His family didn’t let me know when he died or when he’d be buried. I was goy, after all.
Lost my second mother. Ever had one of those? She loves you as much as your own because she sees something in you that makes her heart leap. I was the last one she really talked to on her 90-ish deathbed, and I think I eased her way in over the phone. But the son whose childhood I turned from loneliness to 20 years of camaraderie resented my talks with his mother, and they didn’t tell me when and where they buried her.
So I can’t promise the wedding I didn’t attend will result in a beautiful and long-lasting marriage. I hope it will with all my heart.
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