It takes a wedding to understand how different family ties were even a generation ago. People tried harder to stay in touch, undertook uncomfortable and often complicated trips, making it to minor ceremonial occasions and (this is a point of personal amazement) recalled the names of distant relatives with ease. Sure, I'm guilty of generalising the above solely based on my experiences. But, ask yourself, dear reader, if your family ties haven't eroded a bit? We do this more and more, no? Adding a neat twist of lime to our "live and let live" philosophy, well on the way to being indifferent to others' lives as long as we are allowed to go through the motions of ours, unmolested. And when we cannot avoid a familial occasion, we tolerate it, externally all smiles, internally dying to get back to the drudgery of our routines. Or am I wrong?
The cousin's wedding was special because it was the first of my generation. Relatives had been forced to wait a lot longer than anticipated because a certain 34-year-old had failed to follow the matrimonial timetable, resulting in his much younger cousin winning the "Will our relatives from foreign parts attend?" sweepstakes. Let's just say that everyone who could make it, did. Walking into the wedding hall that morning was to be faced with a joyous melee of warm hugs, beaming smiles, wistful tears, minutes of weighty shared speechlessness, questions that cut to the bone and advice that was hard to argue with, unsolicited or not.
Attending family weddings as a child is a radically separate experience than being present at one as an adult. In the former case, the only responsibility I had was to stay out of trouble. In the latter, I was one of those trusted and tasked with making sure the wheels did not come off the wagon at various points. Whether it was serving food, ferrying people around, ensuring they had the right rooms or dispelling logistical nightmares, it felt like an unspoken baton was being passed... a "we've done our bit, now it's your turn" feeling... a strange absence of the comfort blanket we have that someone elder and wiser will take care of 'it'... a simultaneous gain and loss.
During the garlanding ceremony, the cousin was hoisted on one of my shoulders. When the bride had to walk under a veil at the reception, I held a corner of the cloth. When relatives became anxious about taxis to airports, I helped soothe nerves. When... look, it's a long list of micro and macro moments, so let's just say the wedding went by like a happy hurricane, one minute filled with noise and chaos, the next a Sunday evening by myself, hankering for one more conversation, meal, photo, coffee, hug, laugh, game of cards... instead of a disbelievingly awful silence that seemed to last forever.
Song for the moment: Moonrunner - Droid Bishop
The cousin's wedding was special because it was the first of my generation. Relatives had been forced to wait a lot longer than anticipated because a certain 34-year-old had failed to follow the matrimonial timetable, resulting in his much younger cousin winning the "Will our relatives from foreign parts attend?" sweepstakes. Let's just say that everyone who could make it, did. Walking into the wedding hall that morning was to be faced with a joyous melee of warm hugs, beaming smiles, wistful tears, minutes of weighty shared speechlessness, questions that cut to the bone and advice that was hard to argue with, unsolicited or not.
Attending family weddings as a child is a radically separate experience than being present at one as an adult. In the former case, the only responsibility I had was to stay out of trouble. In the latter, I was one of those trusted and tasked with making sure the wheels did not come off the wagon at various points. Whether it was serving food, ferrying people around, ensuring they had the right rooms or dispelling logistical nightmares, it felt like an unspoken baton was being passed... a "we've done our bit, now it's your turn" feeling... a strange absence of the comfort blanket we have that someone elder and wiser will take care of 'it'... a simultaneous gain and loss.
During the garlanding ceremony, the cousin was hoisted on one of my shoulders. When the bride had to walk under a veil at the reception, I held a corner of the cloth. When relatives became anxious about taxis to airports, I helped soothe nerves. When... look, it's a long list of micro and macro moments, so let's just say the wedding went by like a happy hurricane, one minute filled with noise and chaos, the next a Sunday evening by myself, hankering for one more conversation, meal, photo, coffee, hug, laugh, game of cards... instead of a disbelievingly awful silence that seemed to last forever.
Song for the moment: Moonrunner - Droid Bishop
Comments
Maybe its just me, or maybe there is something to be said about living vicariously by choice.
As for living vicariously by choice, you said it - it's your choice and that must be respected.