I paint to express joy and heartbreak. I paint to process. To remember, when I’d rather numb. I paint to express a silent scream, and a sigh of relief, a heart-laugh. I’m thankful for that gift in this weekend FULL of celebration and longing.

My little sis is getting married in the morning: to a true man who has chosen to be strong and vulnerable and steady. And she is joy and safety personified. She always has been. I’m so proud of them both. I’m proud of their choices to love when it would be easier to hide. I’m so proud of their turning to each other and to God instead of away. They are also just sooo fun. I’m so happy for them.

I also ache for my Trev. Last time I stood at this vista he had taken me for a whole day of canoeing and hiking and dreaming of our future. We ended it sipping coffee and sharing chocolate pie on this terrace. We decided that day that we would move to California after we were married. We were engaged and it was my birthday. Those dreams and adventures only got better and deeper and the knowing of each other sweetened life so invasively. What I mean is that it made all aspects of life more flavorful and FULL, really.

Tonight, we gathered and blessed the couple. My soon brother brought a beautiful responsive reading for the bridal party and family. My section (designed to be read by matron of honor) happened to be so rich and meaningful. It’s hard to express it without sharing the actual reading (I’ll find a copy soon, I hope.) I envoked our friends to leave sorrow behind, or at least for a few hours, as we embraced the celebration before us, which is a picture of the wedding to come. My brother asked me if I would be able to read this section before we began. Somehow this acknowledgment of our grief, and purposeful celebration snapped me out of my funk. I still carried Trevor’s memory and even sadness all night, but the tender sweetness made its way into my heart again at that moment. I saw my little sister comfort my soon to be brother as he cried on her shoulder after asking me to read “my part.” Yes, we are family. My mother’s reading advised them not to hide, even when angry. My father invited them to keep journeying towards the kingdom of God. The beauty kept deepening as toasts began, and went on for hours it seemed. I looked at them, we looked at them, and told them it would be hard, but good. So good.

photo from tonight’s rehearsal dinner: Savannah Weatherell

Celebration : juxtaposition