Last month, I got a call early Monday morning from a bride
who was looking for someone to perform her wedding ceremony. Doris had only two questions: Would I
be willing to conduct their service in the hospital? And if yes, could we do it
this week?
Two days later I was making my way through the hospital
corridors toward the groom’s room. Not knowing how mobile Tom would be, I had
been prepared to do one of those bedside weddings that I had seen in the movies
(and far too many sitcoms.) Tom informed me that he was going to use his
Physical Therapy Session to get dressed into his ceremony clothes and that he
would meet Doris and me in the hospital chapel.
I don’t know if that chapel had ever been used for a happy
occasion like a wedding, everyone working there couldn’t seem to remember one.
But on that day at 12 o’clock in the afternoon, with candles lit and sunlight
coming through the stained glass, Doris and Tom remembered how they met through
a personal ad many years ago, reminisced of their hunting adventures through
Africa, stated their hopes for the future, and acknowledged the frailty of
life.
They made vows to each other and exchanged rings. And even
though I could tell sitting and speaking were starting to take their toll
on Tom, when it came time to seal their vows with a kiss, he was there.
This weekend Doris called to tell me that Tom had passed
away in her arms. She wanted to thank me for helping to make their dream come
true. I thanked her for showing me
a deeper dimension of love and devotion. They shared 18 days together as
husband and wife.
