As my stepson, Tom, and his bride, Amey, turn for the first time as man and wife to face their guests in the register office, tears spring to my eyes yet again. What is it about such a happy occasion that makes me cry? I’ve already blubbed at the sight of my stepson nervously adjusting his tie as he holds his small daughter and chats to his best man. I’ve wiped away tears at the loving looks the couple exchange as they make their vows and now it’s the first few bars of ‘I know I’ll Never Find Another You’ by The Seekers, a band my dad loved, playing in the background that’s making me weep.
I guess I’m crying because every wedding represents the start of a new adventure in a new world, but it’s also the container of so many memories. We’ve been based with Ma in Epsom since travelling from west Wales and one of the regular runs I do when we stay there takes me up and over Epsom Downs, past three houses where I have lived. As I run past the Victorian house which was home to me and Tom and Lily and Rose for seven years I inevitably think of my own wedding day on a wet Monday morning when the four of us piled into the car together to make the short journey to the register office. The route also takes me past the parish church where my parents married and which was also where my grammar school assembled for Easter and Christmas services.
But … I’m beginning to feel that these bricks and mortar reminders belong to a past that is another country; my happiest memories live with me, not in the geography of bygone days. Today, it’s the smiles, the hugs, small children playing and seeing friends and family which add to the store of memories. And, most importantly, it’s witnessing Amey and Tom stepping out on a new adventure together. Here’s to you, Amey and Tom, may you be each other’s someone forever and a day.
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