I don't usually talk about my personal life on these pages. But then I don't usually have a weekend like the one that just ended. It took me from the heights of joy to the depths of grief, all within a couple of days.
It all started on Friday with the wedding of our daughter Brooke to the love of her life, a wonderful young man named Ryan Winter (Brooke Winter has a nice ring to it, don't you think?). It was a gorgeous outdoor wedding in the Rim Country of Arizona, where the desert suddenly gives way to Ponderosa-covered mountains, and the weather was pretty much ideal: warm but not too warm, with an endless blue sky and not a drop of humidity in the air.
The wedding took place at Cabins on Strawberry Hill, a rustic resort with fourteen small but very cozy cabins, a wood-paneled reception hall, a large firepit, and an outdoor area with a mountain backdrop for the ceremony itself.
The wedding was officiated by a guy who works with Ryan (they're both civil engineers working on mostly highway-related projects; Brooke is an account manager at a marketing firm). Derek had gotten ordained so he could officiate another friend's wedding, but that one fell through so Brooke and Ryan are actually the first couple he ever married.
The setting for the ceremony was glorious, the bride was beautiful (of course!), and the vows were heartfelt and humorous (especially the bit about Ryan promising not to get mad when Brooke's Diamondbacks beats his beloved Padres).
Derek brought the funny as well. We all knew that Brooke and Ryan met on the dating app Hinge and that they'd bonded over a shared love of hiking, beer, and dogs. What we didn't know, at least until it was revealed by Derek, was that Ryan borrowed his roommate's dog for his profile picture because he didn't actually have one of his own.
The next hour was spent taking pictures, then we all proceeded to the reception, where a taco truck served a delicious, if messy, reception dinner, while the specialty cocktails included a Spicy Mika-Rita (named after Brooke's sassy rat terrier mix) that was a big hit. Afterwards, the DJ kept the energy level high and the crowd dancing with an eclectic mix of yacht rock (blame Brooke), alt rock, and hip hop. Everyone had a fantastic time.
The bets part: my 83-year-old widowed mother-in-law caught the bouquet.
At the same time, Tammy and I were dealing with a dying dog. After our 12-year-old lab mix Honey lost interest in food at the beginning of May, we spent the rest of the month shuttling her from vet clinic to vet clinic, trying to figure out what was causing it and what could we do about it.
The answers turned out to be: 1) a 5cm squamous cell carcinoma mass in her soft palate and throat, and 2) nothing. Chemotherapy is ineffective with this type of cancer, and while radiation would kill the tumor, it would leave a gaping hole in the roof of her mouth which would still make it difficult to eat.
We knew she would need to be put down eventually, but we didn't want to rush it just before the wedding. We were hoping to give her a few special days before she passed. So we rented an Airbnb (dogs weren't allowed to stay at the cabins) and brought her with us.
She loved it there. She was so excited to sniff the long grass around the house we'd rented, just as she used to do before she fell ill. And on Saturday, when we took her for a brief visit to the cabins, she reveled in the attention she got from the wedding guests.
It may have been her last happy day.
Brooke and Ryan are now in Cabo San Lucas and we're back at home, making preparations for Honey's farewell. And as I look back at the weekend, I'm struck by what a rollercoaster ride of emotions it was. We're thrilled for Brooke and Ryan, that their wedding was everything they dreamed it would be and that their future is so blindingly bright.
But we're finding it difficult to separate that from the grief we feel knowing that Honey will soon no longer be with us. She's always been such a sweet, kindhearted dog, and we're going to miss her terribly.
The greatest of joys and the deepest of sorrows, all in one weekend. It's almost too much to bear. But I suppose that's life.
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