i used to imagine were i to get married what my wedding would be like. most of the time i envisioned it at a catholic church in the woodlands, not far from where i live, and because my father is who is and is so well-loved by so many, i doubt very much the guest list would’ve been fewer than two hundred people. it would’ve been big… not so much because i wanted big but because i would’ve felt a need to invite so many. more presents, right?
but what i really wanted was small and simple. i wanted to get married at my great uncle’s monastery so he could be there. and because my faith was rooted in that place. and because i wanted to celebrate on the lawn at sunset with my family. i would’ve wanted my spouse’s family to know the tranquility of that place, and i would’ve preferred that chapter of my life to begin in someplace quiet and content.
of course, the older i got the more difficult it was for me to picture this future. my twenties came and went. my thirties. i’m halfway through my forties. the older i got the more ridiculous the picture seemed to be.
and then the monastery closed last summer.
and my munkle died this week.
i broke down at work today because the thing i most wanted to give him — the knowledge that i would find that kind of love and have that kind of a life… that all his hopes and prayers for me had become reality. i couldn’t give that to him.
an image of what that day could’ve been like came to mind so fully that i was taken aback. i gripped the counter for balance and then fell to my knees and wept.
thank god no one was in the store. no one came in while i was crumpled on the ground.
brett young’s mercy was playing. if you’re gonna break my heart just break it.
i don’t know how many more times mine can break.