Two Months in the Life

Two months ago, rIAm and I were preparing to head to Toronto. rIAm went first by air, I went a couple days later by car. But two months ago today, we were finishing rIAm’s packing, figuring out what I still needed to do here, and otherwise enjoying our last hours together in Chicago as “single” people.

rIAm arrived in Toronto and immediately started working on wedding stuff… and enjoying the time she got to spend with her family. Not long after her arrival, the partying and festivities began, and they did not end until 8 days later. After dropping rIAm at the airport that Saturday, I visited my family, also enjoying the time I could spend with them. And of course I took care of some “business” that needed to be done before I left town.

My Sunday and Monday were a bit of a blur, with all sorts of activity. I picked up some surprises for rIAm, packed, cleaned, worked and spent time with Armando. Oh, and I ate. Leftovers and the best encassed meats available at Hot Doug’s. And then bright and early Tuesday morning, I began my journey to Toronto. I felt anxious, maybe a bit nervous, as I drove with a very full car, not entirely sure what they would say at the border about all my stuff, or the fact I was getting married.

As it turns out, the border crossing was as smooth as my brain said it would be, even though my gut was a bit of a wreck. He simply wanted to be assured that the full car was wedding stuff or my personal belongings. And he wanted to be sure that even though I was about to get married we lived in Chicago; I wasn’t moving to Toronto at that moment. And once convinced, he wished me congratulations and sent me on my way. And as I drove into Canada, perhaps more accurately known as “through Windsor,” I felt an overwhelming sense of relief and excitment. Nothing could stop this wedding now; the bride and groom were both going to be there and all of the stuff we needed would be there too. Suddenly it was very real, and yet I had never felt more calm about the Main Event.

And that’s how it felt. The wedding was simply the Main Event, with a week of activity leading up to it. For rIAm it had already started in full force, but for me it was just beginning. For five days it was a whirlwind of activity. Meeting people, greeting people, sorting, organizing, assembling, working, eating, drinking, visiting, planning, driving, socializing and occasionally sleeping filled our days. It was great fun, stressful, delicious, exciting and amazing all at the same time. We mingled, had a bbq, did a rehearsal, had a big dinner, tried to relax and filled all of our days.

All of this excitment lead to the Main Event, with so many of our family and friends assembled to celebrate with us. And the day was simply perfect. I suppose that’s the cheesy description of one’s wedding, but really, everything went the way we wanted it to, and people seemed to genuinely enjoy themselves. So as far as I’m concerned, that’s perfect.

That day started with anticipation and a bit of worrying. About the weather. About when the groomsmen would arrive. About the stuff we had to do. About how everything would turn out. But the weather was good, the groomsment arrived as planned, we did all the stuff we needed to do and everything turned out great. And seeing the hall take form helped make me feel ready for the day, so after I changed into my tux and walked back to the wedding location, I knew I was ready to be married. As guests took their seats and word came that the “bride has announced she’s ready to get married, so let’s get going,” I found my parents and we got ready to begin.

My parents and I took our place in the doorway, ready to walk down the aisle. I saw the groomsmen walk in and take their place, as well as Dave. I heard the music, “Here Comes the Sun” begin. And then I felt this giant ball of emotions that decided right now it was time for those emotions to come out. It took me by surprise, but I realized that whatever emotions came out were happy ones. Of course, I also realized that the sun had literally just come out with the music and we were getting the gesture from Dave that it was our turn to walk. So down the aisle we went, and I decided that the emotions I felt would be best expressed with the biggest smile I could plaster onto my face. I think it stayed on my face as everybody else came down the aisle. Maybe longer.

I realized I could see the bridesmaids in the doorway before they came down the aisle, so I calmed myself down a bit with the idea that I would see rIAm the same way. I hadn’t seen her all day, and never saw or knew anything about her dress. I wanted to see her; I didn’t want to wait any longer. It came time for the bride, but suddenly — and naturally — everybody stood up! I couldn’t see the doorway after all! So I waited. And waited. And waited. After all, the bride must not walk too quickly. But then she turned down the aisle. And there she was, beautiful as could be, with two proud parents by her side. But the emotion would not subside, not until rIAm started reading her vows, and I realized that if she could do it, I could do it. And I did. And it felt great.

The rest of the day was a bit of a blur, greeting people, shaking a lot of hands, hugging seemingly everybody, taking more photos than I imagined possible, eating, listening to amazing speeches, and addressing the guests. Ah yes, the speeches. They made me laugh, they made me smile, and yes, they even made me cry. Most of all, they made me feel immensly grateful for who rIAm and I have as family and friends. The whole night made me realize that, really.

My big moment, though, came at the end of the meal, at the end of the speeches. I made sure rIAm spoke before me, and boy I’m glad I did. It crossed my mind that after speaking in Italian, rIAm’s nonna I. would stand and clap. I figured I would get a hearty applause. But I was shocked and awed by the standing ovation; it was almost too much to take in. I felt incredible joy, and also relief that the most scheduled parts of the day were behind us. All that remained was lots of fun.

The wedding glow lasted a while, even as we somewhat hurried to pack up and return to Chicago on Tuesday. At which time we moved into a flurry of activity changing over what was packed into the car and repacking our bags. The excitment level was high, though, as we were on honeymoon, baby!

And the honeymoon was amazing. We saw such a thorough, eye-opening and incredible cross-section of America. Big cities, medium cities, small towns, nearly-dead towns, wide-open spaces, lots of trees, mountains, ocean, rivers, lakes, old people, young people – every kind of people and place, it seemed. We drove 6200 miles and never got sick of it; we really didn’t feel like coming home, but knew we had to. Just as we perhaps began to get sick of something – the car, perhaps – we found ourselves at Newport Beach before Armando’s wedding, and playing in the surf was not only tremendous fun, it was cleansing. Afterward I felt renewed and ready for everything else that came our way. The photos of the trip are on flickr; I’m still uploading, but there’s plenty to keep you looking for a while right now.

But we did have to come home, and so we did, arriving on a Sunday night, just over one month ago, and we had big plans for how to enjoy ourselves and get stuff done that week. It was our way of easing back into reality. As we got out of the car we were thrilled with how our peppers and basil had grown while we were away. We talked excitedly with our next-door neighbor. And then our hearts sank as we saw the back door was open. And shortly after, discovered we had been burglarized. And, deflated, we dealt with the police and unloading the car, cleaning up. The sense of relief — joy — at discovering my grandfather’s ring wasn’t taken was replaced with a punch in the gut of realizing my good watch was gone.

We quickly realized, in our minds, that it wasn’t so bad. They didn’t take anything sentimental (and not able to be replaced), and really, they didn’t take that much stuff. Our place wasn’t trashed. We have insurance. We weren’t hurt, and life – us included – would be ok. In our guts, though, there was anger, a sense of being violated, frustration.

The next day we eventually made it to work. Turns out my colleagues had planned a surprise lunch party for me; my 2pm arrival ruined the plan, but they gathered people in an impromptu fashion and brought out the cake and treats. There weren’t decorations, but there was camaraderie. It was then that I realized how tired I was. Word had spread of the burglary, so people wanted to know about that. Suddenly, I didn’t feel talkative, but somebody changed topics, asked about the wedding and honeymoon, and just as suddenly, I was happy to tell the stories. I realized it was my first opportunity to really tell those stories, and it felt good to have them flow out of me.

The next days and weeks were such a mix of things. We had a long list of stuff to do and take care of before we knew we had to deal with the fallout of the burglary. Now we had to also deal with police, insurance, the rear door and more. It was a lot; it was hard to focus on fun stuff. An early indication we would move on, though, was a fantastic dinner with friends at Frontera Grill. We had a great time, and didn’t think about anything but fun stuff the whole time.

Of course, we didn’t have enough going on, so the car decided to die on us. So I dealt with that. And our classes started and the reality that we’ll graduate this winter set in, as we looked at the mountain of work ahead of us for our master’s projects and classes. It wasn’t insurmountable, but we have other things we want to do the next few months as well!

As things stayed busy they also got a bit more normal. We’ve had all sorts of fun activities, seen a bunch of people, and have great plans ahead. The fun was genuine, and still is. But I find myself angry too often. Angry at the person or people who did this to us. Angry that it has injected stress and frustration in our lives. Angry that we didn’t have the enjoyable and relaxing evening we had planned when we got home from honeymoon. Angry that we didn’t have the time to post pictures or write about our trip because we were dealing with insurance and police. Angry that the police didn’t move as fast as we wanted. Angry that we don’t trust strangers as much as we used to. Angry that we live somewhat more paranoid lives. Angry that whenever I come home I hurry to check that the back door is still closed.

I don’t spend all day everyday angry. And the anger always yields to more pleasant things as they come up. And we’re very fortunate that good things come up often. Friends telling us they’re pregnant. Great times with family or friends. Great meals, out or prepared at home. Making plans for our future. Fun moments, from stories or tv or casual conversation. It’s unfortunate that mixed with this, some of my innocence was stolen along with my computer and watch. Yet I know life goes on, and that life is, overwhelmingly, very good.

But then the car decided to give us more problems and it means more frustration. Coupled with everything else on our plates, the intense realization that rIAm and I are married and grown up set in. We are squarely in the real world.

And that includes all of the emotions and realities I’ve described, and so much more. But through it all, there is one constant that makes me happy each and every day. No matter what happens, I come home to rIAm, and I wouldn’t want it any other way. Cheesy as that may seem, it’s genuine. Two months ago I was preparing to get married; in 9 days I will have been married 2 months; I genuinely look forward to the next 2, 20, 200 and 2,000 months. But I’m not placing any bets on what will happen between now and then or what emotions will pass my way. Except, like I said, I know I’m going to experience it with rIAm, and that’s where I want to be.