Chapter 45

45

“A couple of ten years ago I was attending a wedding between a friend of mine and a woman who seemed to be his perfect lady, although I’d never met her prior to the big day. The wedding was outdoors, somewhere in the mountains over there (he gestures with a hand) and in the middle of the summer no less. The groomsmen kept having to wipe the sweat out of their eyes with the sleeves of their tuxedo jackets, the heat was so bad.

But the wedding itself was flawless. It started on time, which was good because the heat would have made half the attendees melt into their chairs had they had to sit there too long. The ceremony echoed through the canyons for all to hear, or so they said. Samantha and David, the bride and groom respectively, looked perfectly into each other’s eyes and said, “I do.” Everyone was moved, some to tears, especially the best man, David’s Grandfather.

In a gesture of pure love and respect, David had asked his eighty-eight year old grandfather to stand by his side on this holy of days. You could tell how proud he was to be there. He stood up straighter and walked with more purpose than the other groomsmen who were three-fourths his age. He wore a smile from ear to ear during the ceremony and never took his eyes off the alter. Watching his face was just as rewarding as watching the wedding itself.

Vows, rings, and lips were exchanged and the newlyweds were off to take pictures while the reception began. After the first round of photos, most of the groomsmen and bridesmaids came back to the party. They began eating and drinking but David’s grandfather was nowhere to be found. Turns out, he had spent the time watching every flash of every bulb as the paparazzi of family members snapped photos. He wasn’t going to miss a second of it.

The wedding itself had started, as I said, promptly, at 11:00 in the morning and by the time the bride and groom had joined the reception, the day was nearing 2:00. The heat had risen considerably and most of the tuxedo wearing men had draped their jackets around scattered chairs. All except David’s grandfather who simply wiped the sweat from his brow with a handkerchief. I asked the man if he was hot in that tux and he simply replied with a smile, “What do you think, boy?” and then quickly changed subjects.

It was toast time. The father of the bride stood and gave a simple toast, a thank you to all who attended and a goodwill gesture to the couple. The maid of honor started crying mid-toast and scurried away from the microphone. Finally, the best man stood up for his toast, which is what I was waiting for in the first place.

I won’t recall in detail the actual speech itself. His words have faded like a photograph with the year. The essence of what he said remains however, a man who was nearing the end of his life, a portrait of a soul who was living the best moment in eternity.

And he stood there, professing undying love for David, clutching the microphone in both hands. We watched those hands begin to shake subtly at the beginning of his speech, a tremor that soon became a quake.

He struggled to the end, choking back tears while looking David squarely in the eyes and announcing that he would be giving the couple twenty thousand dollars to do with as they saw fit. Then the old man gasped and dropped the microphone, his hands shaking so violently that the thud of which sounded like a bomb over the P.A. Stumbling backwards he collapsed and heaved his final breath.”

John and I are standing in downtown Denver, watching two elderly men playing chess amidst springing fountains. I’m not sure, after twenty-two years, how the hell we both ended up in downtown Denver. We must have taken a wrong turn somewhere in Louisville.

“You told me that story had a happy ending,” I say to John after a moments pause.

“I guess it depends on how you look at it,” he replies as the man in the western shirt raises a fist and declares his checkmate.