The One About the Phone Call on My Way to the Church

Once-upon-a-time on my wedding day, after we took a few pre-wedding photos outside my apartment with my sisters and my parents, I went back inside. To turn off lights? To make sure the stove or iron (?!) was off? 

I don't remember. 

As I walked back to the door to leave for church, the phone rang. 1976. No caller ID. No voice mail. It was reflex to pick up the receiver. 

It was my Aunt Jen, calling me in San Diego from Chicago where it was already noon-ish. Our wedding was at 11AM. Maybe she was eating lunch and thought, "I really should call Joni and let her know I'm not coming to her wedding even though I said I was coming." She was sobbing. 

I never wear makeup but it was my wedding day so I had applied a little blush and a little eye-shadow. Maybe even some mascara. So I did not cry.

I pretended it was fine. That I was fine. I did not shed tears, but I was crushed. But I really wasn't all that surprised. I loved my Aunt Jen unconditionally. But she was unpredictable. She never explained why she couldn't come. I never asked her.

This summer, I am missing the weddings of two of my nephews. I didn't wait til their wedding days to explain why. I guess I learned my lesson 45 years ago.

I think and I hope they understand how I've spent the previous 15 months trying to protect my high-risk self from Covid19 and that although it might be "safe" for vaccinated people to travel, it's still risky for people like me. 

Still, here I am in the middle of a self-pity party. Even if all the anti-vaxers suddenly got vaccinated and decided wearing a mask was the moral and ethical thing to do to protect people who can not get vaccinated, I am not sure I could travel if I wanted to, thanks to the "walking boot" I'm wearing due to heel spurs & achilles tendonitis. So I'm really sad I can't be there. It's ridiculous to be angry at a virus, but I feel quite justified in being angry at the people who refused to protect others by wearing masks and now won't get vaccinated. I'm angry on behalf of so many who lost loved ones and on behalf of so many people who had to cancel and/or delay weddings, funerals and so many other life events. These two nephews and their brides appear much more calm than I would be about their multiple wedding dates!

These two nephews will have plenty of other aunts and uncles and cousins attending and celebrating with them this summer. My absence will not be a crazy memory like I have of Aunt Jen's absence. I knew that my paternal "Chicago relatives" weren't coming but I had expected Aunt Jen. My only other aunt, my Aunt Peg – my mother's sister who was my godmother – attended. Then there was my maternal grandmother and the many great-aunts and great-uncles and most of the California cousins who also attended.

Thinking about all those people reminds me of the other lesson I learned on my wedding day 45 years ago which I hope will also occur to my nephews. It's the one I always hope all couples experience. 

I know that in the midst of wedding planning, it's easy to get swept up in all the details and sort of lose the big picture. But after Mike and I said our vows and turned around to face those 200 or so people who I kind of forgot were there, I saw the big picture. I remember thinking how incredible it was that so many people wanted to witness this event; that there were that many people who either loved us or our parents so much that they arranged their Saturday to celebrate with us.

It was just a moment. And maybe it was the heat of one of the hottest days in San Diego history. Or maybe it was realizing that we had just been married by a hungover priest and wondering if all those people had noticed we said our vows twice – the ones we repeated back to the hungover priest plus the ones he forgot we wrote ourselves and that we said after he finished? Or maybe it was the emotional rebound from the Aunt Jen phone call?

 

But it's a moment I've never forgotten and I always hope couples take a moment to look at all those faces of people who love them. And maybe think about the ones who wished they were there. Even if they don't or even if they don't realize it til years later, all those people will be with them along their way. It's amazing.

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Here's a few other photos to go with this story. I wish I had photos of me with Aunt Jen, just us. But here's a few to go with story about the love of a young woman for her Aunt Jen.

At my brother's 1973 wedding. Aunt Jen in green. Her big brother, my father. Me, my sisters, my cousins.

My cousin, my sister, Aunt Jen. Washing dishes in Greece.

From right, Aunt Jen, me, my daughter, Jen's brother my Uncle John

Aunt Jen with her sister-in-law, my mother. 1996.

Me, Aunt Jen, my cousin

Aunt Jen holding the youngest cousin. Some of them are married now. Two of them are getting married this summer.