Misery Loves Company
Heavy metal. From the Vengeance Falls album, released in 2013. More info from Wikipedia.
Today is a special day, and a day that needs a little elaboration. Nonetheless, today is miserable.
On this day ten years ago, I had married the one person I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. Eight years prior to that date (which makes 18 years ago, if you're keeping count), I was a neophyte in the "love" scene. I naively thought that I knew what love was at the time. I thought that I knew who I wanted as a lifetime partner, how to treat them, and provide an environment for our children that I never got to experience growing up.
Needless to say, this was all a complete illusion. I didn't know it at the time, but the "love" that I thought I had for certain people (who are now barely — if at all — involved in my life) was everything that I now know isn't what I wanted.
Fast forward eight years from that time (which is now 10 years ago today — I know, I'm confusing even myself). I was "walking down the aisle" with the one person that I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, was the person I wanted to devote the remainder of my life to. The day itself was exceedingly fast-paced. My future in-laws were frantically trying to put the finishing touches on tidying up their home and property, which served as the venue for both the ceremony and reception. It was all-hands-on-deck; me, my future wife, her extended family, her friends — all of us were trying to get things put into place for the events that would transpire later that afternoon.
I left in the late morning to drive nearly two hours away to park my car loaded down with mine and my soon-to-be bride's personal effects at the location where we would be spending our first night as husband and wife. One of Kayla's friends followed in his truck (Matt, who was a teenager, but one of my future brother-in-law's best friends) to drive me back.
Immediately after returning, I started to get back to work on helping out with the rest of the work that needed to be done. I was promptly stopped and told to return home, that I needed to rest and be ready to return in just a couple short hours. Not being one to argue with anyone, I returned home and waited just an hour before getting dressed and ready. About 30 minutes before I was due to return back to the venue, my best man Leon (who was an older fellow and made it clear that he never attended these things, but made an exception for me) arrived. He drove us to the house, and that's where things started to become a blur.
I remember people arriving quickly. Dropping off wedding gifts. Shaking hands and smiling with people they knew. Many of these people I didn't know. Very few people I did know. Most of my family arrived. The four people from work that I invited — two of which were in the bridal party as my best man and one of the two groomsmen — were present and accounted for. The person that I now regard as my best friend (Larry) was not. He wasn't invited, as our friendship at the time wasn't at its present level. To this day, he relentlessly ridicules me for not being invited.
The ceremony itself was even more of a blur. All I could do was smile and look my beautiful bride in the face, which was met with an equally happy, smiling face. We had two pastors officiate our ceremony. Sounds strange, I know. One of them was the pastor to our former church at the time (who was also responsible for conducting our marriage counseling at the beginning. He's a wonderful man and one of these days, I need to pay him a visit, if he's still around), the other was the current pastor of our current church. Both of them had their parts to play, but the "official" official (this is weird) was our former pastor. I distinctly remember the part where I was finally able to kiss my bride. I didn't waste any time grabbing her face with both hands and pulling her into a passionate kiss to seal the deal. Someone manage to get a picture of it, and I think that the wedding photographer did as well.
The reception was the blurriest of all. Everyone was having a good time. My new wife and I had no time for food, as we were spending every moment participating in dances, greeting our guests, and enjoying the atmosphere. I will never forget that there are people that attended our wedding who had never had a sip of an alcoholic beverage until that day. The story itself is rather short: a container of sweet tea was spiked with trace amounts of vodka. The taste of the vodka was virtually undetectable, but those responsible for the planning (namely, the family immediately involved in the wedding) knew about it. The kicker? Older folks that come from a strict religious upbringing; people who never tasted alcohol; these people had their first alcoholic drink at our wedding, even if by mistake. There were even kids who ended up having a drink before responsible people noticed the issue! This will undoubtedly go down as the easiest memory to recall about our wedding.
A reception that lasted hours passed by in what literally felt like just a few minutes. Before long, a limousine arrived to transport us to previously mentioned location that we would be spending our first night together at — the same location where my car was parked less than 12 hours prior. Just before we entered the limo, our parting kiss to our guests was one of my most memorable, and it was one that many would have expected. I leaned my wife over backwards, supporting her back so she wouldn't fall, and gave her a solid, passionate kiss. Someone also managed to get a photo of this event. I don't think I've ever told Kayla, but this remains my favorite picture from that night to this very day. It's posted at the end of this entry.
I somehow recall a fair bit of the limo ride. Immediately after our departure, our driver rolled down the privacy window and said something to this effect:
"Congratulations to you both on what is probably the best day of your lives. Help yourself to as much champagne and strawberries as you'd like. We'll be in Marion in about two hours; I'll roll this window up and won't touch it again until we're about to arrive. Congrats again and enjoy the ride!"
We interpreted those words as carte blanche to make that ride a personal one. I recall us drinking two bottle of champagne and smashing a basket and a half of strawberries — hey, we didn't really get to eat too much — before we settled into each others' arms and enjoyed the rest of the ride. The other details are foggy, but I do know we resisted every urge to ravage each other right there in the limo.
By the time we arrived at our overnight lodging reservation — a bed-and-breakfast just south of the South Carolina/North Carolina border (we were on our way to a beach in NC for our honeymoon) — it was late into the night. We got checked into our room, to which we were informed that we were the only tenants for the evening (that's how small this place was) and to enjoy our stay.
At this point, I'll refrain from any further detail (definitely a far cry from how I used to be as a kid with this journal), because any reasonable person can surmise what transpired that night, and they'd likely be correct.
Having recapitulated the events of a wonderful night that occurred exactly 3,652 days ago, I'm left feeling utterly empty. The woman I shared that magical night with is not presently with me. The rings that we placed on each other's fingers that day are no longer on our fingers. The love that was clearly visible that day is, to all outward appearances, gone. All that's left are the memories of what we had, even though I have a yearning to get back there again.
Unfortunately, it feels that, at the present moment, that yearning is not a shared desire by that person. While I certainly do not want her to feel the grief and anguish that I feel (though I'm sure she does), at this point, all I can do is hope and pray that this serves as a catalyst to spark that desire to be one again.
After all, misery loves company.
I don't think I've ever added a picture to any of my journal entries; if I have, I don't remember, and I damn sure ain't going through them all to confirm this. Regardless, this picture is my favorite of that night from ten years ago, cropped to help provide privacy for others that were in it. Ignore the goofy fella to the top left of the picture, that's Kayla's brother (who was one of my groomsmen).