The homily, given by one of Chris’s uncles, was uplifting,
definitively secular, and inspiring. It commended the couple for being brave
for making a commitment to one another at a time when doing so has become
generally considered superfluous. I cried during the rehearsal—proud at seeing
my beautiful daughter so happy, and happy that Chris, who she has known for
three years, clearly adores her so very much.
During the reception, Ariel’s best friend, Jenny, who I
believe she has known all her life, as Jenny’s mother, Nancy, and I reckon we
first met one another when the girls were less than a year old, reminded me of
one of their childhood moments. But, as with most of my stories, to understand
the story, a back story is required.
Rosanne, a fellow Choate spouse, and I met one another when
she became the second wife of a colleague. She had a daughter from her first
marriage, and soon was expecting her second baby. Two months before she
delivered her son, I, too, found I was expecting, and our friendship began in
earnest. When her son, Christopher, was seven months old, Ariel was born, and
Rosanne began fantasizing about becoming sisters-in-law once the children were
grown as of course they would fall in love, and have a fairytale romance, and
then get married. And, indeed, Ariel, too, fantasized. When she was just three
years old she babbled on, during a time when the video camera was recording
her, “When I’m a big girl, I’m going to get married to Christopher. We’re going
to have five children and live in a house with five bedrooms.” Rosanne loved
this notion and did more than just encourage it. Ariel and Christopher played
together often.
Tragedy struck when the children were just five years old.
Only just 41, Rosanne had a pulmonary embolism, and could not be
revived by the emergency team that arrived. She was DOA at Yale New Haven. We
were all in shock.
The only thing I could think to do upon learning of her
death was to immediately go grocery shopping to make sure there was food in the
fridge at their home. After the Mass—a closed casket because her husband, Carl,
said of the aftermath of the EMT’s work, “Rosanne will haunt me the rest of my
life if I ever let anyone see her like that,”—I still could not believe that
she was gone.
In order to continue to try and be helpful, I volunteered to
keep Christopher for Carl on Saturday mornings when there were classes. [N.B.
At many boarding schools, classes are held on Saturdays in order to make for shortened
Wednesday schedules to accommodate athletics.] And so, the friendship between
Ariel and Christopher continued.
And now back to the real story.
At the wedding last weekend, Jenny told a story that I then
found noted in one of my journals. Her story, and the following journal excerpt
match just about word for word.
“Ariel and Jenny were playing outside the bathroom and did
not realize that I was listening. They were pretending to be in a wedding
ceremony. Jenny was the minister and Ariel the bride. The groom was in absentia.
Jenny asked, ‘Ariel, do you take Chris to be your awfully wedded husband?’
Ariel answered, ‘Yes.’ Jenny continued, ‘Chris, do you take Ariel to be your
awfully wedded wife?’ Chris then supposedly answered yes, too, as ‘Minister
Jenny’ pronounced them husband and wife and told the ghost groom he could kiss
the bride.”
So though Ariel’s Chris is not my dear friend Rosanne’s son,
on Saturday, Ariel said, “Yes,” to marrying her Christopher, and he, in turn gave a clear and audible, “Yes,”
response. When their officiant bade the groom to kiss the bride, they did so
with great gusto and enthusiasm. They are truly destined, as Jenny so
presciently predicted, to live awfully happily together.
