The Wedding

By Jerry Mack Grubbs

On occasion I will experience a dream in very sharp detail. When that occurs, I often take the time to record the specifics of that dream in what I call my other journal. I refer to it as my other journal because it is separate from the daily journal where I describe the events of the day and express my feelings on various subjects. On the night of July 24th of this year, I had a dream about a double wedding, a wedding in which my best friend and I were getting married.

It was a happy occasion. The facility where we would have a double reception was spacious enough to accommodate the invited guests of all four families involved. My best friend’s wedding was scheduled to take place at one o’clock and my wedding would be at two o’clock in the afternoon. I was originally scheduled to be married at the one o’clock time but my friend’s fiancée insisted that their wedding take place first. What difference would one hour make? My bride-to-be and I discussed the situation and concluded that we would let them go first. No harm done. My family, friends and the photographer were notified of the time change and we were set.

I remember thinking how happy I was that I wasn’t marrying the girl that my best friend had chosen. What would it be like over the years to be married to someone who created so much fuss about being first? She reminded me of my dog Walter who always had to be first. No matter where we were going, if his nose wasn’t at least an inch in front of everyone else, including the bumper of a four-wheeler, he was whining and unhappy. I started calling my best friend’s fiancée Walter although I didn’t tell her why I was referring to her by that name. When I told my future wife the definition behind my choice of nickname for my best friend’s fiancée she just chastised me for my pettiness.

The wedding day finally arrived. It was early morning and I went over to the reception center to see how the setup was going. I couldn’t believe the attention to detail that was taking place. People were scurrying around dusting, arranging flowers, and setting up punch bowl fountains. From the looks of things there was anticipation of a large turnout of invited guests. I walked around surveying the decorations but mostly I just watched the people as they worked. An elderly woman was setting up tables and I went over to help. She said, “You shouldn’t be do this, it’s your wedding day.” I ignored her comment and continued setting up tables. Two elderly men were setting up a display area for gifts. I went over and offered a helping hand. They looked at me and said, “You shouldn’t be doing this, it’s your wedding day.”

What should I be doing on my wedding day? I wasn’t getting married until 2:00 thanks to Miss has to go first or Walter as I now called her. Thank goodness she doesn’t know the meaning behind her new nickname. As I stood looking around in the middle of the reception center, my future wife came through the door. She gave me a full body hug and I kissed her lightly on the lips. We both knew that we were the focus of all the eyes in the room. “I thought it was bad luck to see the bride before the wedding,” I said. “No, you just shouldn’t see me in my wedding dress before the wedding,” she replied. “I think that’s a bunch of bunk,” I said. “So do I and to prove it you can come over and watch me dress if you like,” she said. I was caught off guard. She saw my surprised look and replied, “Just kidding. You can watch me dress all you want after today. But until 2:00 I still belong to my daddy.” “Does that mean your daddy is going to watch you get dressed?” I responded with a grin. Without answering my question, she kissed me on the lips again signaling that the conversation was over. “Let’s see what we can do to help get this place set up,” she said. “You can forget that. They don’t want our help,” I said. “We’ll see about that. Your Miss Walter, as you call her, won’t be very happy unless everything is just right,” she said, as she marched off to the kitchen.

At noon my fiancée’s cell phone rang. Upon answering, she broadcast a concerned look on her face and headed for the door. “What’s wrong?” I asked. “I need to go start getting ready for the wedding,” she replied. I guess so; we’re getting married in two hours. But knowing her, everything would already be laid out just waiting for her to slip into. Just think, after today I can watch her slip into whatever she is wearing. This is a strange world we live in. What is inappropriate today becomes a-okay after a few commitments to love, cherish, hold in sickness and in health . . . until death do you part. Wait a minute. I’m marrying this girl forever. Well, this marriage can be forever if that’s what we choose and keep our commitments. There is no free lunch in this world according to my mother. Mother must have never met someone on welfare.

I felt like a welfare recipient because I was certainly getting more than I deserved in my future wife. My dad said that he couldn’t have made a better choice if he had picked her out himself. Others had commented that I had bested myself and I should marry this girl quick before she wised up to the real me. That’s what I was doing today and after 2:00 I hoped that she would never look back. I know I didn’t want to give her a reason to want to look back. It’s a scary thing when half of all marriages are ending in divorce. This marriage forever stuff is serious business not to say that any marriage isn’t serious business. As a word of fatherly counsel dad took me aside and said, “If this marriage lasts it’ll be because of you. If this marriage fails, it will be because of you.” Where does he come up with this stuff? It reminded me of the counsel he gave me when I left on my mission for the LDS Church. “Son, you made this decision to serve a mission all on your own. No one pressured you to do it. Now there are only two ways to come back home: either with an honorable release for a job well done or in a box.” That didn’t leave many options. I certainly wasn’t going to choose the box method.

Now dad was telling me that if this marriage failed it would be because of my behavior. At least my situation was improving. If this marriage truly was forever, at least the box wasn’t going to undo what would take place at 2:00. If you haven’t figured out what dad meant by “the box” give him a call. He’s eighty-five and probably thinking more about the box than most of you.

I hurried home to change clothes so I wouldn’t be late for my best friend’s wedding. Wow, the room where the wedding was scheduled to take place was packed. The bride, draped in her wedding veil, was already seated in the room waiting for the ceremony to begin. She turned and looked at me when I entered the room. Her head turned but her face was concealed by the veil. I felt a little sheepish for having nicknamed her Walter. If we remained friends over the coming years I would probably tell her the truth. On the other hand, maybe I wouldn’t. It was bad enough that my future wife knew the significance of the nickname but she knew everything about me. From the beginning, I didn’t hold anything back from her. I told her things that she probably wished I had kept to myself. But I wanted her to know all of me. I felt like I had known her my entire life and I was just catching her up on the cracks and crevices that she might have missed.

As I sat there waiting for the ceremony to begin I gradually developed an odd feeling. As I looked around the room I recognized more of these people than I should have known. I couldn’t figure out why so many of my future wife’s family were here at the ceremony. Why would they be attending my best friend’s wedding? I shrugged my shoulders and thought that maybe they were still confused about what time our marriage was to take place. Remember we had traded times with Miss has to go first or Walter as I affectionately referred to her. I didn’t have to trouble my brain for long. The door closed and the ceremony began. My best friend led his bride-to-be to the alter and assisted her as she knelt on the left side. He then came around and knelt opposite of her on the right side of the alter.

When I saw him reach across the alter and take her by the right hand I suddenly knew why my future wife’s family was in the room. That hand resting upon the alter was her hand, the hand that I had held so many evenings as we sat and talked about our future together. That same hand had wrapped around me and drew me to her this very morning as she hugged me and gave me a kiss and teased me about coming to watch her dress for the wedding. I started to stand and put a stop to what was taking place but a firm hand rested upon my shoulder and held me in my seat. A man I had never seen before leaned over and whispered, “The parents got together this morning and decided that you would learn more about life if you married the girl you refer to a Walter. Your choice of a wife was only yours to make so long as that choice was acceptable to the parents involved. Don’t worry, your marriage will still take place at 2:00. And by the way, remember the counsel your father gave you about a successful marriage.”

If I were to tell you that I awoke from my dream at this point with a cold sweat it wouldn’t be the complete truth. The dream didn’t end here but my story ends here. Microsoft Word says that I am telling this dream on a 6.4 grade level. In my dream world I must still be in elementary school. At this rate I won’t graduate to junior high school dreams before I am dead. I can’t wait to see what my junior high dreams will be like. They will probably be similar to my sixth grade dreams; some pleasant, others not so pleasant. Just like life.