The timing of things these last couple of months has left something to be desired. First I found out that two friend couples were getting married on the same day. Then the whole moving debacle threatened the enjoyment of the one I had plans to attend, as well as one next month (since at the time of RSVPing I didn't know when I would find a place to move to). In the end, I guess things work out as they should.
The wedding in Edmonton was a lot of fun. Like, I mean so much fun that I even looked at job postings this week in Edmonton. I really miss my great friends Dulcie and Nels (and assorted other Edmonton friends, but their wedding caused the chain reaction of feelings, so they get the shout-out), and that I didn't worry about the move hardly at all while I was there indicates I should really think about where I should concentrate on being to be happy. Does that make sense?
Dulcie, never a conventional girl, wore a '40s looking fuschia suit with pale green top and super fantastic apple green heels from J.Crew, with hair styled and makeup to match. Really, she was stunning. Nels looked pretty dapper himself in a white blazer and black tux pants. Almost like the girl who sent her sweetheart off to war, only to discover the bandleader left behind because of asthma or a bum leg or something, whom she wound up fancying more. And the wedding itself was at the Aviation Museum, so pictures were beside these historic planes that lent themselves to the feeling of the '40s.
The wedding was a civil ceremony, but I don't think I've ever had to stop myself from crying so much at a wedding because it was so lovely. The vows, really, were what had the place in tears (I've never seen so many men cry at one time before) and I foolishly didn't plan ahead well enough to stuff my cardigan with tissues before the ceremony to hand off to Dulcie as she needed them (thank goodness for her mom, who slipped me tissue after the initial tears started, before the major waterworks). Were I a flatter-chested girl, perhaps I could have stuffed my bra with reinforcements.
I tried to avoid the groom's brother's attempts to document the whole affair on video, turning to wipe the ocular fluid and snot away, yet remain a vision as far as maid-of-honours go. I suspect I failed; my eyes felt pretty puffy and green.
Of course, being able to spend time specifically with Dulcie's parents (whom I adore) and other family members on both sides that I hadn't met before was a bonus. Dulcie, especially, has the sort of family that envelops you and is a lot of fun to be around. The family drink, a PVC*, causes side-splitting stories (and I love that there's a family drink) and tests strength of character. The groom's youngest brother thought he could handle the drink. He could not. His slurring words indicated the drink kicked his butt.
I also discovered that Guitar Hero II causes RSI. My hands hurt so much after a couple of hours of playing that I swore I wouldn't play ever again.
During the trip I also managed to visit my grandparents. Talking with my mom ahead of time, I wasn't sure I wanted to go because their health has declined to the point that I thought I might not recognise them anymore, but she thought it would be a good idea. Still, the sense of obligation and the fact that I love my grandparents made me go. I kind of feel like a terrible granddaughter because I stayed for just an hour-and-a-half, talking with my grandfather while my grandmother mostly rested. I was sort of OK talking with him, despite him telling me they want to die (he'll be 99 in January, she will be 96), but when she woke up and looked at me I kind of lost it. She doesn't remember me at all and it's hard for me to hide my emotions. I didn't want to just sit there and cry, so instead I made a hasty retreat, giving them both kisses, knowing it would be the last time I see them.
I know why my mom wanted me to visit: they don't socialise at all anymore, no one visits them, and because of my grandmother's state my grandfather spends his days looking out the window with no one to talk to and no chance to do more than just sit. Any contact with the outside world might lift their spirits if only for a short time. And I just blew it by tearing up. I hate that they are suffering, that they've both been kept alive when their hearts have stopped and they were ready to die. People should have a say in their quality of life.
Sorry for the tangent. I'm just feeling a little emotional about it all. And I miss my grandparents, the ones I got to know when I lived in Edmonton and up to even two years ago.
*A PVC was originally founded by Dulcie, MaryAnne and Dulcie's mom Norma at Vi's Pies' little lounge, overlooking the river valley. Tweaked to its current state, it's a shot of vodka, a shot of Cointreau, and Grower's pear cider as the mix. The newly updated version substitutes the pear cider for Grower's fantastic pomegranate cider. A few of these will make you crawl and pass out on a park bench; they're so easy to drink. Yum!
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