I went to a wedding today
the second I’ve attended since
you got married.
You would have loved the venue:
a small stone chapel
almost like a cottage
in the woods
with a high Gothic ceiling
and a stained-glass portrait
of the via dolorosa
hanging just over the altar.
And the ceremony
may have been more high church
than what we were used to
growing up in Texas
but the bride processed in
to some Elvish-sounding music
and after the exchange of vows
we all had communion
and the newlyweds came in together
bearing the grail and bread.
The whole first year after
when I heard about a friend’s engagement
my immediate reaction
was to try and stop it.
It was silly of me, I know:
not every walk down the aisle
has a cross at its end.
And over time
I got better, or
learned how to fake it.
But today
when the priest said,
“Speak now, or forever hold your peace”
it was hard not to think of that moment
in your wedding
and the silence where
no one spoke.
And when the bride and groom
pledged their fidelity to one another
in sickness and in health
to have and to hold
from this day forward
I thought of you and him
the vows he made to you that day
flanked by the groomsmen
with whom he had already
betrayed them.
One day
a few years from now
I’ll have my own ceremony.
And with laughter and communion
my friends will escort me
into a new realm of life.
But even amid the celebration
there will be a quiet ache
dull but persistent
because of the empty space
where you should have been
and the marriage you never had.
Sketches By Boze 
Pingback: Bloggerhood Etc. 6/9/14 | Fatherhood Etc.
I think of Bethany often – her voice, although I never physically heard it, is still in my head. This beautiful poem sung from your heart puts me right into that ceremony. And I’m still aghast at all that transpired and how it ended.
Boze, this brings tears to my eyes. I have flashbacks every time I’m at a wedding, and actually I was thinking about writing a poem about weddings, too. Weird. But I’m glad I’m not the only one that has this strange reaction to stuff. And yes, I’m a lot better, but I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget when the honor of weddings was tarnished.
Yes, I was kind of surprised by how triggering the wedding was. I can’t remember being that affected by the last wedding I attended. Even during the reception I found myself wanting to go somewhere and hide and maybe cry a little. So I came home and wrote this poem, and kept meaning to share it on Facebook but never did, because it’s just so sad.
Anyway, you should still write your poem. I would really love to read it.
you love her. sigh.
I don’t know you, and the only thing I share with Bethany is her name. This is a beautiful poem. Thank you for honoring her memory.
Pingback: La triste historia de Bethany Deaton: IV – Adiós preciosa Bethany | Intentando ser un buen cristiano... intentando