THE CITY REBORN FROM THE ASHES OF AMERICA'S MOST DISASTROUS FOREST FIRE
From My Window
Issue Date: June 7, 2018
By Jane Thibodeau Martin,
When this is published, we will be enroute to Seattle. Our daughter will be getting married there, and this is a happy and emotional time. (And, with our move "home" to Wisconsin just 18 days away now, more than a little bit CRAZY.)
Our son has been married for more than six years, and his wife, (our daughter of the heart, hate the term "in law") and granddaughter bring us great joy. It is exciting to see the man in Angela's life and heart become a more formal part of our family; that said, he's been a part of our family since we met him.
Our little girl, my last born child, is committing herself to a life partner. We are unbelievably blessed to feel elated and excited, supporting them in this step because we are confident they are just right for one another. We like his family, just as we feel close to our son's "second family;" not all couples enjoy the complete support and respect of both sets of parents.
At 62, I'm an unusually old "Mother of the Bride" because, like our daughter, I got married in my late 20's. I have never regretted waiting, and I don't think my daughter will, either. Sometimes it takes time for the right person to come along; I have been more than patient to wait until that person entered her life.
My husband and I were on a long drive back to Oklahoma from Wisconsin a week ago. He was screening "father-daughter wedding dance" songs on his phone. I found myself crying, driving the interstate through the stinking hog farm area of Iowa; tears of joy. I panned song after screened song " so many were tinged with melancholy and did not properly reflect the peaceful happiness my husband and I feel.
This past weekend our daughter and future son of the heart were "home" with us here. The main reason for the visit so close to the wedding was a bridal shower. But it was also a chance for Angela to bid goodbye to the house she lived in from the time we came here, when she was in third grade, until she moved to Dallas after college. And more important, hug her dad after the successful radiation treatments he underwent the last eight weeks. He's feeling well and is ready to dance at the wedding; just as the radiation oncologist promised me " despite my doubts back in February.
I got weepy several times over the weekend visit. I cry at the drop of a hat " hardly ever over sad things, but easily at happy things. I cry at the high school graduations of acquaintance's kids; at the baptisms at my church of infants I don't know at all; at the reports that a neighbor has found their lost dog or cat. I cry at "Silent Night" at church; I cry at "The Star Spangled Banner" at baseball games. So there is good reason to fear my reaction at the ceremony. After some teasing at the shower I publicly committed to one very ambitious goal in front of my daughter and her friends:
"Avoid audible sobbing."
Wish me luck.
You can reach me for commentary, alternative viewpoints or ideas at this e-mail address: Janiethibmartin@gmail.com.