Okay. I'm trying to resist making Jackson jokes. I'm going to try not post titles such as "The Jackson 3," or "The Less Disfunctional Jacksons," etc.. This entry is rather expositional and detail intensive, but it’s important to get it all down. Basically I take us through the end of the ceremony, with a little reflection on what was going on.
Here we go.
So let's see I left off when I was leaving my room for the wedding. I was conscious of not getting there too early, and having to worry about bumping into someone before the wedding. I took a cab, and was worried when I realized how close my hotel was to where the wedding was, but thankful there was traffic, and I got there with just a few minutes to spare.
I get there and everybody is saying hello and congratulating this guy who I didn’t recognize at all (I found out later he was Eric’s—Sarah’s now husband—father). So, feeling awkward, I found my way into the hall, and spotted my uncle Jonathon. A face I know! I walked over and latched on. I spotted my cousin Daniel (who’s now like 8 feet tall) but there were no seats near him, so I sat next to some people I didn’t know. The music starts and people are coming down the hall isle. First more people I don’t know, and then, well I don’t remember the order but I would assume it was Liz who came down first. We didn’t make eye contact, I’m not sure if she had seen me yet. She was tall, beautiful, and I recognized her immediately. I’m sure it helped because I had heard so much about her, but I instantly knew (from that odd confident intuition) that she had gown up into an extraordinary person.
And then Sarah comes down the isle flanked by her parents David and Phyllis. I remember the feeling in the room was genuinely happy, and I was happy too, though awkward. Sarah sees me and says, “Hi Bernie.” I say hi back and give her a giddy smile. Her parents didn’t react one bit. They didn’t look at me, nor move there heads away from that protective spot ahead. But then again, what would they have done? Stopped right there on the isle and apologized for “everything”? Asked me how I was doing? Given me a casual hello? I think the non-reaction was all you could expect.
They pass by, and I notice that David’s jacket is ripped on the back and recently re-sewn. I assume, because I have no reason to otherwise, that “he’s not well.” For all I knew he was an agoraphobic-hermit in his house for years, and finally had to emerge because of his daughter’s wedding, and put the only shaggy jacket that he had. I later found out that it was nothing of the sort, he just ripped the jacket like an hour before and they had to improvise.
The ceremony was wonderful. They had a female Rabbi, which I knew would make my mother happy, in the sense that they had a Jewish Identity, and were also part of the modern, more progressive/liberal denominations of Judaism. They had written their own vows and had the two fathers do some traditional blessings. I think halfway through the first or second blessing, David chokes up. His voice wavers, and does that high-pitched thing, when you try to talk through crying. I could see he wasn’t an emotional monster, he wasn’t this oddly cold isolated man, but a warm father who loved his daughter.
I think it’s important to say that I had no specific reason to think he was either a monster or just a somewhat troubled man, I just didn’t know. My mother told me the circumstances of their family history, but let me draw conclusions for myself. I guess I assumed he’d be this cold, scared man because of his vacancy in my mother’s life.
To be continued...