My Dad's Wedding

The rustle of guests entering the building and softly greeting one another in nervous anticipation.

The gentle vibration of a string quartet playing in the background.

The shuffle of flower arrangements being perfectly spaced apart.

The rhythmic beep of a heart monitor.

The artificial whir of an AC unit.

The low murmur of nurses making their rounds in the hallway outside.

The bride holds a bouquet of lilies. The groom dons a hospital gown.

It’s my dad’s wedding day. He’s a groom for the second time in his life. The first time was in 1999 when he married my mom. Today he’s marrying his long time girlfriend Jenny. Jenny is fun and bubbly and warm. A stark contrast from my mom who left us for her true love, methamphetamine, when we were only in grade school. After years as a struggling and lonely single father, Jenny brought happiness and love back to his life. My brother and I loved Jenny. Not in the same way you love your parents, but a meaningful love all the same. We always thought of her as family and felt forever grateful for how she had changed our dad’s life for the better. With Jenny he was his happy and goofy self, always trying to make us laugh with his corny dad jokes and obvious pranks.

Today on their wedding day, instead of the ceremony setting being the Hawaiian destination they had planned for months, they are getting married in a hospital room on the oncology unit of St. Andrews. The cancer has metastasized quickly. His body is no longer responding to the chemo. They say he doesn’t have much time.

Our closest friends and immediate family members squeeze together in the snug hospital room, careful not to crowd his bed and the various tubes and IVs hooked to his frail body. Despite the setting, everyone has still dressed up. Full suits and floor length dresses. I think it felt disrespectful to treat this day as anything other than a celebration with the proper attire included. 

My brother and I squeeze hands. The hospital chaplain begins his remarks. A chorus of sniffles commences. 

I look over at my dad. His eyes are closed. His mouth is open. He’s clutching a barf bag. He is completely asleep. 

I turn my head to the guests in the room. Does no one else find this just a little ridiculous that this man is sleeping through his own wedding? That plus he’s not even wearing pants. I swallow a laugh beginning to build.

As Jenny is beginning to recite her vows, my dad makes the loudest snarfling snore I’ve ever heard and wakes himself up with a start. 

He looks around the room confused. He stares at the chaplain and then at Jenny. And then at the rest of us, holding hands, wiping our tears and waiting anxiously at what’s about to happen next.

“Welcome to your wedding, Marty,” the chaplain says gently. “We were just getting to the vows, you are right on time.”

“It’s happening?!” my dad asks - panicked to be joining the rest of us halfway through the event. “But I didn’t brush my teeth today. Am I wearing a tie at least? Has anyone seen my glasses?”

I can’t help it. I burst out laughing. It’s all too absurd. I’ve been to 5 weddings a summer for the last 3 years. There's a certain pattern to these things. Never ever did I imagine I would watch my dad interrupt his own wedding by waking up in the middle of it. That was a first. I feel like an asshole for laughing, I know there is nothing really funny about this moment. But it’s almost like I’ve been so desperate for something to laugh instead of cry about for weeks. Now that the moment has presented itself, I can’t stop.

My brother immediately follows my lead. We try and stifle the giggles by turning away and gripping each other by the arm, but this giggle fest is a runaway train with no sign of stopping. We can feel the chaplain’s eyes on us like an annoyed teacher in grade school, patiently waiting for us to shut up.

I peek over at my dad. His eyes are closed again. The cocktail of pain meds he’s on pulls him back to sleep. But he has a crooked grin on his face, almost as if he’s in on the joke. Teasing my brother and I, purposely making us laugh like he used to do all the time when we were kids. 

With his eyes closed, he holds Jenny’s hand and gives her a tight squeeze when it comes his time to say I do.

After the are officially announced husband and wife, we all file out of his room. While the nurses come into my dad’s room to change his catheter and clean him up, his wedding guests eat mozzarella sticks and Dominoes pizza in the waiting room. Someone brought a white sheet cake with little bride and groom figurines in the middle. This reception couldn’t be more different from the Hawaiian luau they’d planned. The light moment from the ceremony has left us and I no longer feel like laughing. I don’t feel like eating either.

It was a beautiful and heartbreaking wedding. I hope I never have to attend another one like it. 

After weeks of stress and grief over his deteriorating condition, watching my dad snore through his wedding was a much needed moment of comedic relief. It was the one light moment we had for weeks to come. To this day I think back on that moment, and the grin on my dad’s face. It was his final gift to us. He gave us laughter to hold on to. A funny story to tell the many sad and pitying faces we would see over and over in the following weeks. Our very last memory of him smiling.

My dad died later that night while his new bride held his hand, tightly squeezing their “I dos” over and over again in a commitment of love that would last far beyond life and death.