I laughed and cried at their first kiss: the joy and idealism, the love and dreams, the purity and beauty of real passion, unfettered by the shackles of free love that isn't really free. I cried like a lover who has found his love, because I have.
But I cried like a dad, too. I cried for change, for this milepost that celebrates our own mortality, for the relentless march of time toward the end of our time.
Beauty and change, dreams and dying were, in a strange way, wedded in one glorious event as we witnessed the vows of our young friends, "till death do us part." But what happens when death does part me from my lover or my lover from me? I used to fear loving because I feared the loss of the one I loved. I feared the pain and emptiness. I feared the aloneness.
Maybe that's why I love weddings most: There's a love that cannot ever die, a Lover who vows even life—EVEN DEATH—cannot separate us.
I can hardly wait for the wedding.
© Copyright July 2017 by Robert G. Robbins
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