As I rounded the corner, escorted by my husband, I know I heard an audible gasp. More than a gasp, it was a deep soulful sob of sort, the kind that happens to a mother on the day her baby boy gets married. My legs kept moving, but my heart stood still. Within sixty seconds, I relived his birth, his babyhood, his young years, his launch into adulthood, and I marveled how quickly we had arrived at this moment. It was me who’d made the sound. I secretly hoped no one had heard me.
How is it that thirty-two years can speed compress itself in a simple walk down the aisle? I told myself to get a grip, keep walking, head up, shoulders squared, onward. But my thoughts were going backwards in time. Back to the day of his arrival. Back to his first day of school. Back to his first fish. Back to his first deer. Back, and back, and back I went. When I took my seat, the replays stopped. God must have known, I needed to be present that day, for this love. Because that is what good mothers do.
We were on top of a mountain in Sevierville. All the guest arrived by shuttle. The sun beamed down on us. The skies were clear and the color of periwinkle blue. Birdsong filled the air. The cross at the front of the venue highlighted everything I know to be real. This was a day that God had made. I rejoiced and was glad in it.
Every detail had been handled by the bride and groom. The colors were soft and creamy. The men wore custom-made suits, the bridesmaids wore soft blue. Food was abundant. Fans had been handed out to abate the heat. Musicians played. Hearts sung. The two of them married on what could only be called the most beautiful day.
During the mother-son dance, I held on to him, and again, I heard that audible gasp as Eva Cassidy sang “ Who Knows Where the Time Goes?” Her melodic voice filled the dining room with these words:
“Across the evening sky, all the birds are leaving
But how can they know it’s time for them to go?
Before the winter fire, I will still be dreaming
I have no thought of time
For who knows where the time goes?
Who knows where the time goes?
Sad, deserted shore, your fickle friends are leaving
Ah, but then you know it’s time for them to go
But I will still be here, I have no thought of leaving
I do not count the time
For who knows where the time goes?
Who knows where the time goes?
And I am not alone while my love is near me
I know it will be so until it’s time to go
So come the storms of winter and then the birds in spring again
I have no fear of time
For who knows how my love grows?
And who knows where the time goes?”
And then, an unorchestrated moment occurred. I hadn’t planned it. They hadn’t planned it. At the end of the song, I took my son’s hand and placed it in his new bride’s hand. For in that moment in time, I remembered that “a man shall leave his mother and father, and cleave to his wife, and they shall become one flesh.” I had done my job joyfully and with everything within me. It was time for me to sit down.
“Ah, but then you know, it’s time for them to go…”
Fly high, Devin and Isaac! March through the seasons of love: the spring, the summer, the fall, and the winter. May you always multiply one another’s joy and divide any sorrow that may happen to find you. I love you both!
