Her groom, Thomas, looked equally happy as he awaited her at the altar, wearing a white silk brocade suit, sword and turban- slightly unusual looking on a Caucasian male, but worn with pride. White flowers were tied in suspended strings over his forehead where sandalwood was decorated with gold, red, and white dots.
The Hindu wedding, a sacrament called Sanskara, brings together the spirit (Purush) with matter (Prakritti), emphasizing three core values: happiness, harmony and growth. Though the names of the wedding traditions were different, it shared many of the elements of an American wedding: the father giving away the bride (Kanyadan), and the unity candle (Havan), which is the Lighting of the Sacred Fire. The couple invokes Agni, the god of Fire, to witness their commitment to each other (the part Anh has a problem with). Crushed sandal-wood, herbs, sugar, rice and oil are offered by the bride and groom into the fire.
Instead of the exchange of rings, they performed the Tying of the Nuptial Knot (Gath Bandhan), with scarves placed around the bride and groom, symbolizing their eternal bond, and pledged to love each other and remain faithful.
Next, they walked around the fire four times, each circle representing goals in life: Dharma, for religious and moral duties; Artha, for prosperity; Kama, meaning earthly pleasures; and Moksha, spiritual salvation and liberation.
Marcy led the walk first, representing her determination to stand beside her husband in happiness and sorrow. Next they took Seven Steps Together (Saptapardi) to signify the beginning of their lives together, each step signifying a marital vow.
First step: To respect and honor each other
Second step: To share each other's joy and sorrow
Third step: To trust and be loyal to each other
Fourth step: To cultivate appreciation for knowledge, values, sacrifice and service
Fifth step: To reconfirm their vow of purity, love, family duties and spiritual growth
Sixth step: To follow principles of Dharma (righteousness)
Seventh step: To nurture an eternal bond of friendship and love
My heart swelled with pride, as I could honestly say Joel and I had tried to live up to every one of those vows. We had only stumbled on step three, or it felt more like being tripped, when Monica Blevins tried to get Joel back. I wanted to give Joel the benefit of the doubt that he was not the pursuer.
I braced myself for whatever I would learn and then that would be that. No matter what, it would not change the fact that I loved him. It wasn't my love I had doubted. No, that wouldn't falter. I just wish I didn't care so much about his love for me.
As I watched Marcy and Thomas receive their blessing, I felt with every fiber of my being that Joel and I had been blessed. Our marriage was not perfect-none are-but we were blessed with joy and two boys who would live on as our legacy.
Thomas applied a small dot of vermilion, a powdered red mineral lead, to the bride's forehead, welcoming her as his partner for life. This was the act that set loose the tears, the simple act of a groom touching his bride. Out of all the things that I missed about Joel, this was highest among them. I often tried to close my eyes and recall his touch-how his body felt pressed up against mine, where my head rested on his collarbone when we hugged, how his fingers felt interlocked with mine. And right there, where Thomas placed the dot in the middle of her forehead, is where Joel kissed me every day after returning home from work. His lips had been soft and warm, and that kiss seemed to release the stress of my day. “You're home,” I would say as if now everything in the world would be better because of it.
Anh had dug into my purse and handed me the Kleenex because, as usual, I didn't feel the tears on my face. I was so accustomed to crying, as if it were second nature. But these were happy tears. I could hear Deacon Friar's advice: try them with a joyful heart. I could feel Joel inside of me there and it was good.
When the ceremony ended and we followed the long line to the reception and full seven-course meal, Anh pinched my arm again, tugging and pulling me to reach the man whose back of the head she had fallen for. Just as we entered the reception hall, she purposely bumped into him, and he turned around. As Anh apologized profusely to the handsome man, his eyes met mine. “Don't tell me,” I said. “You play golf with Panchal, too.”
“Lion's Club,” he said.
“When are you not moving and shaking?” I asked, and Anh gasped because I knew this man and she (the mover and shaker among us) did not, or perhaps she had noted the lilt of friendliness in my voice.
“Anh,” I said. “This is Dr. Cortland Andrews.” And as she tossed her hair and tilted her head flirtatiously, I noticed he did not puff his chest in response. And I hesitated to add, “My sister's boyfriend.”
As luck would have it, Panchal had seated us at the same table as Cortland. Panchal was not only adept at helping foreigners fit in to America, he helped love misfits fit in, too. Or at least he was skilled at grouping us together.
We were in for a long evening together, and I drank in the glamour of the food and the wine and the conversation like a starved child. I noticed da Vinci had traded with another server to get our table, and he always served me first. I was probably drunk from his attention, too. Halfway into the evening, Cortland leaned behind Anh, who was seated between us, and said, “I think someone is smitten,” and I thought he must've meant me until he raised his eyebrow each time da Vinci smiled at me, but only half-smiled (lips closed) to the other guests. The last time Cortland raised his eyebrow, I shrugged an acknowledgement. Perhaps he was right. Perhaps da Vinci was smitten with me, the woman who had taken him in, who had washed his soccer shorts and socks alongside my sons' and made him pancakes on the weekends and run alongside him every morning. For better or for worse, I had become da Vinci's modern patron. I knew we had become friends, but besides that kiss on the wrist and my dismount peck, there had been nothing to indicate our friendship was going anywhere.
“Shall we dance?” Cortland asked, finally. I'd been wanting to dance all evening, but feeling much like a wallflower, had not asked anyone. (Dances are normally considered a Couples activities for Normals, and being a widow wallflower is sadder than being a normal wallflower.)
Joel would've liked this reception, maybe not all the ingredients in the food, but definitely the bar. The American aspect of the reception, Thomas's one request, was the full bar, and the bartender knew how to mix even the latest fad drink.
“Have you decided on a dog yet?” Cortland said as we spun around the dance floor.
“A dog? Oh, a dog. No, I've been pretty busy. Besides, I wouldn't even know where to begin. Big dog, little dog, yappy dog, guard dog, and so on and so on. It's a big commitment.”
“Ten to twenty years. My dad was a vet, so I'd be happy to help with your search.”
Joel and I thought we had time to get a dog for the boys. Ten or twenty years seems like nothing to a young couple. Now I almost wanted a dog just to prove that I thought I would live another twenty, thirty, forty years or more. “I think I'll take you up on that.” A date for doggy shopping? I have no idea why the thought of that excited me, but it felt like one thing I wouldn't have to do by myself.