A celebration of love and commitment in Seattle

 

Ellen and Ethan Gunnels

Joy, first and foremost

My son got married this past weekend, and Marice and I are recently returned from a celebration of love and commitment in Seattle that has left me with a curious blend of joy and emptiness.

Joy, yes, first and foremost. For a parent, there’s something magical and mystical about seeing your youngest child’s eyes shining with happiness and contentment as he joined with the love of his life before family and friends.

The wedding reflected the new couple perfectly. Stylish and quirky, elegant and down to earth, simple but profound.

The ceremony took place in the Emperia Lake Union, a Seattle venue that had the vibe of a tony speakeasy of the 1920s and came complete with a tunnel in the basement used by bootleggers during Prohibition.

 Ellen, a tall beauty who is stunning even in jeans and a T-shirt, was breathtaking in a simple but elegant white dress split to above her knee, sexy without trying too hard. Ethan, dressed in a well-cut black suit, was smart enough to complement, rather than compete with his glorious bride. It’s an instinct that will serve him well as the years go by.

Mazel tov to the happy couple!

They are great kids, courageous and adventurous and full of life and laughter. Seeing them together fills my heart with optimism and goodwill. Our future is in good hands with young people like these.

Ethan and Ellen are, as I said in my wedding toast, “the perfect couple.”

 “A more compatible couple you’re not likely to find on this good earth,” I said, lifting my glass. “They are like peas in a pod.”

As our family and friends know, Ethan was our miracle child. When our daughter was born, Marice and I had always planned to have another child, even though Rachel was – as she often reminds me – the perfect child. But after two heartbreaking miscarriages, Marice and I had begun to accommodate ourselves to the possibility that our perfect child might also be our only child.

Then Ethan came along, and our family was complete. I won’t claim that he was the perfect child – Rachel wouldn’t stand for such an outrage. But despite some rough patches, he has become a son to be proud of.

So why, you may ask yourself, do I feel this vague sense of emptiness in the aftermath of an outstanding wedding weekend and at the prospect of watching Ethan and Ellen begin their life together.

First dance as a married couple.

Mostly, I think, because my watching will be done from afar. Seattle is half a continent away, and our visits by necessity will be more seldom than either Marice or I would like. Ethan and Ellen are delightful people to be around and I miss them terribly.

And then there is the profound reality that surrounds weddings in general. They mark the end of childhood – and the end an important phase of parenthood – for the families involved.

It is time for both our children, now happily married to their soulmates, to begin their own lives together while their mother and I are relegated to the sidelines to watch and worry and cheer.

 If we’re lucky, Marice and I eventually will enjoy the thrill of being grandparents. But that’s not a given, particularly for someone like me who was almost 41 when Rachel was born and an ancient 44 when Ethan finally arrived.

Marice and her sister Donna dance to the beat.

And while I’m thrilled at how things have turned out, I admit that in my heart of hearts, I miss the frontline duties of parenthood – the days when Gunnels Manse at the top of Mad Bird Hill in Grapevine rang with my children’s laughter and life here was gloriously, infuriatingly, unforgettably chaotic.

But enough of that. Ethan and Ellen have found each other and have committed themselves to a life together. Marice and I wish them all the happiness and fulfillment the world has to offer.

We know that regardless of the twists and turns that the future has in store for them, they will not only persevere, they will prevail. Happy trails, song of our hearts. We love you madly!

Father and son in repose.