Unit 3
My Un-wedding Day
The local bishop in the western Canadian city of Nelson, was going to perform the ceremony. July 18, 1987, would be the day, just before my 37th birthday, when I would get married for the first time.
Her name was Helen. She was a hairstylist, and we had met in Cuba in March 1986. Three months later, we were engaged. Then, in her Vancouver flat 11 months later, she said she couldn't marry me.
The drive back to my home was an endless journey of destructive emotions and thoughts. The hurt had already set in, but the humiliation was still ahead.
"Yes, time will heal the pain." I told friends. I vowed it would be a long time before I let myself be hurt like that again. But I came to understand that the prospect of leaving her family, friends and job must have scared her deeply. Better before the marriage than after.
As the date of our wedding approached, I decided that I still wanted it to be a special day. Rather than spending it dwelling on what might have been, I wanted to celebrate my friendships with all the people who would have been at the party.
I had wedding-style invitations printed: "Mr. Raymond Turchansky will not be getting married on Saturday, July 18, 1987. So he requests the honor of your presence at the party on that day. Lunch and Champagne at 4 pm".
The party was a blast. I wore a tuxedo, had my photo taken with my brother, Larry, who would have been my best man. I played Pachelbel's Canon, a piece I wanted to be my wedding music, a piece she had dismissed as "nice music to dust by".
Some 40 people came -- friends, family, colleagues and neighbors. They brought a cake -- with just a groom on it -- reading, "Oh, it's great to be single." Rather than roses, they offered stinkweed. We ate. We drank. And best of all, we laughed.
A month later, I was covering the Canadian Amateur Gold Championship. Filling in for another reporter who couldn't make it at the last minute was a woman named Lorraine. She already had a cassette tape filled with versions of Pachelbel's Canon. She wanted to learn how to play golf. She said I made her laugh. I knew that would be the start of a beautiful friendship.
Two years later, we spent our honeymoon along the Mississippi River. When Lorraine says she will marry a person, she does it. I like that in a woman.
We recently revisited the American South for our tenth anniversary. Our sons are eight and six years old, and only every second or third day do they say we are the worst parents in the world.
As for Helen, I haven't seen her since I drove off into that Vancouver fog. |