"Never change"

Today is the 17th anniversary of my daughter, Day, and her husband, Tom.  I find myself asking the cliched question: Where does the time go?

That's the way with time: it flies.  We change.  We get older.  Anniversaries are days to look at the wedding pictures and think: How young we are were!  Time has brought Day and Tom two adorable sons and they have a great marriage, reminiscent of the kind of marriage Lloyd and Carlene had, a friendly easy-going marriage.

They had a beautiful wedding in Washington, D.C.  Both my parents, my brother, his daughter, and his then-wife were there.  Four of my friends and their husbands were there. I have happy memories of that day!

Anniversaries are also sad reminders that some beloved people in the wedding photos are no longer here--Tom's father and grandmother and my daddy, Lloyd.  In several pictures I am dancing with my daddy at the wedding reception and he and I are both smiling into the camera, into this day.

I remember seeing Day's father for the first time at the wedding after our divorce was final that same month.  He and I walked into the wedding reception together, but not really.  That was sad.  Children must love it when their parents are still together for their weddings--as was the case last month when I went to Jane and Dillon's wedding in Chicago and saw framed pictures of their parents' wedding on the guest book table.

I remember the night of the rehearsal at Day's wedding when the parents were asked to give the young couple advice.  I didn't say anything--I wish I had.  Day's father said two words: "Never change."

Those were the words we all used to write in high school year books: "Stay as you are; never change." We meant it as a Mr. Rogers sort of compliment: we like you just the way you are.

Change and growth and loss, though, are parts of the circle of life. Change is unavoidable--even though we wish we could pick the parts that would change and the parts that would stay the same.

I wish I had said, "Enjoy the changes!" or "Enjoy the ways your partner changes, as you do your own" or something to that effect. I hadn't yet found the strength of my own voice to speak out loud at a wedding rehearsal.  On the heels of divorce--I thought  that I had no words of wisdom to offer.  I had a grateful lump in my throat, too, seeing my beautiful daughter embarking on a marriage I knew would be a good one.