The day before the wedding, I was visiting with my mother. She reached for my hand, looked me in the eye, and said, “Suren’yu, mein kind, I love you very much, and you know how much I love Chavi. I’m not coming to the wedding.”
I could have written the Double Take story “Of Two Minds” (Issue 1012), and I could have written it from both sides. In the story, Kayla, an older kallah, is devastated when she is told that her grandmother, with whom she is close, can’t attend her chasunah. But her uncle points out that Savta is battling dementia and the event would be overwhelming for her.
I speak from my experience as an event coordinator, in another time and place: Weddings (actually, most simchahs) don’t tend to bring out the best in anyone. The joy, the pasted-on smiles, the singing hearts, the too-tight shoes, the dreams realized, the anticipated happiness, the “joys” of family dynamics, the naivete, the strain, the realities, the gifts, the money, the waste, the disappointments, and the timing — all these contribute to stress on steroids.
Throw in a bride on hormones — along with her mother, whose dress is still too tight and who’s on meds just to get through this. Add a dash of Oma (or Bubby, Grandma, or Nana) with unrealistic expectations, plus family members who are only too happy to add their own unsolicited opinions, and the recipe for disaster has just been written. Did I mention mechutanim?
Nothing happens in a vacuum. And it really does take a village. We forget that each and every part of any simchah has the potential to arm the satan to the teeth.
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