And When I Saw Her Walk Down The Aisle Toward Him, Beaming, I Didn’t Cry, As Expected, But Instead Almost Died Of Sheer, Undiluted Happiness

They asked me to sign their marriage certificate, and I balked momentarily, not for any reason beyond the fact that I had no idea I as the maid-of-honor was to be granted such an added privelege. Being her big sister was enough for me, and I found myself nearly crying when I scrawled “Ladish” next to her newly penned “Barkley.”

I remembered a conversation Theresa and I had years ago, and then again when she became engaged. We talked about our last names. About being the only children of the only male child of my grandparent’s six children. “The Last of the Ladish” we called ourselves.

We discussed the confliction we both felt about the idea of taking our (yet unknown) future husbands’ names. Losing dad when she was eleven and I was almost thirteen, we have always felt drawn to remaining Ladishs’ for the rest of our lives, married or not, to continue the name (or at least, that’s how we justified it somewhat rationally), but mostly as a way of honoring a father who would never himself be able to walk us down the aisle.

We had the conversation again when she became engaged in March, and while she still felt strongly about our name, about always being “a Ladish,” she told me she knew she would take Will’s name, because she “loved him that much.”

Both of those conversations were replaying in my head as I went to sign next to her new signature, and the tears welled, because I remembered: she traded her last name for his. And then, simultaneously: she loves him that much.

Much to my surprise, the only time the highly anticipated tears actually fell was when she hugged and kissed me good-bye for the night. When the two of them rushed through an archway of sparklers held by hundreds of outstretched arms into their surprise! limosine with a front license plate reading, simply, nonsensically, and somehow perfectly, “The Wave.”

I cried when, as most brides do, my little sister left her party early.

I cried because I was so proud of her. Because she looked SO beautiful. Because she IS, and has always been SO beautiful.

I cried because I never wanted her day to end. Because I never wanted our family and friends to stop celebrating the two of them. I never wanted to stop hearing their story dancing on the lips of every guest walking the grounds of the mansion.

I cried because already I missed her.

And I cried because I knew she was riding away with the one person who will protect her, love her, cherish her, and make her laugh for the rest of her life. And nothing makes this girl cry more than the warm fuzzies. Especially when it comes to my babycarrot sister.

Earlier that day, she gave me and the girls our bridesmaids’ gifts, while we took turns applying each other’s make-up and strategically pinning orchids she bought for us to wear in our hair. Thoughtful as ever, she gifted us Reef’s (with colors chosen specifically for each of us; mine were blue) to swap with our surely cute but also surely uncomfortable strappy heels after the ceremony, along with earrings specially made by a friend of hers to wear for the ceremony itself. Attached to each gift bag was a personalized note.

I lied when I said I only cried when she said good-bye. Because I just remembered that I also cried when I read the words she had etched into a creatively cut piece of cardboard adorned with pink ink and matching buttons. And when she fearlessly, and clearly, and proudly, repeated her vows after the pastor read them aloud, looking Will in the eyes the entire time, and enunciating each word flawlessly: tears dripped across my cheeks then, too.

I didn’t know what I was going to say for the toast I was scheduled to give during dinner until the moment before I gave it, and in the back of my mind all day I was wondering how I could possibly convey the depth of love I have for my little sister, for the little girl she was, and for the beautiful, graceful, intelligent woman she has become, in two minutes or less, while guests simultaneously stared and finished chewing their freshly baked gourmet pizza.

I wondered how I could possibly do her justice; I wondered how I could do us justice.

The “us” that had been best friends ever since we realized we had nothing more about which to fight, and that we really didn’t want our childhood friends to be our “real sisters,” as we had previously declared to one another during various altercations. The “us” that spent so many nights lying next to each other, looking up at the stars, confiding in one another, or just giggling about nothing at all. The “us” that spent our summers traipsing around Priest Lake, eating huckleberry pie, riding mountain bikes too far from home, swimming and playing frisbee, “borrowing” neighbor’s paddle-boats when grandma and dad went back up to the cabin to make us lunch.

The “us” that will always comprise one half of “me.”

A few moments before I was introduced to toast, a slightly shaking champagne glass briefly in my hand, and then quickly set on a nearby table until it was again needed, Tiffany brought me back from my staring aimlessly at a striking sunset directly behind Will and Theresa when she put her hand on my shoulder and told me confidently that I would know what to say. Chris kissed my shoulder. I knew I couldn’t be too funny. That was (the best man and twin brother) Hayden’s job. And he had just done it well.

I chose to read a portion of the note she had written and given to me earlier that day, back to her, realizing in that exact moment that I had carried it around all day, and that I had carried it around all day because it said so perfectly what I wanted to tell her in front of everyone listening, and chewing:

“There are few people who know me as you do, and fewer still who love me ad deeply as you. You are my beautiful sister, my faithful friend, the one woman I know I wil always have, because we are blood, and because you would never let go.”

I told her she was my best friend, and that while I wasn’t sure how many women could apply that particular term in addition to “sister” to their familial relationships, I felt so incredibly blessed that, indeed, we can.

I told her how proud I am to be her sister, how proud I am to have Will as a brother. How wonderful it has been just to watch them find one another, and grow together, and embark on a journey that is surely just beginning.

While I spoke I looked only at her, and at her husband, and everyone else faded into a soft warm background, and I nearly cried but didn’t, and watched as she nearly cried, but didn’t, and instead we both just smiled knowingly at one another.

“To a lifetime of happiness,” I (finally!) toasted. And in that moment nothing else seemed more certain.

(Pictures of the vow-taking via Flickr. More! to be uploaded later today.)

Do A Big Sister A Favor?

Today is babycarrot sister’s 26th! Day of Cake. Being that my sister happens to be (awesome, yes! and) one of my favorite people on the planet, I think instead of being here, you should go here, and read all about what made her day great. (Seeing as how we’re all very visual learners around these parts, I will tell you that there are most definitely pictures. Of cake, even!)

You could even wish her a happy! birthday. You know, if you → Read more...

My Heart Is A Nautical-Themed Pashmina Afghan

We interrupt copious amounts of Asia recapping this broadcast for a maritime digression of sorts.

You see, I’ve been a lover of the ocean, and of all things aquatic and nautical-inspired, ever since I can remember.

My love for sea-faring-everything might very well have been fostered during the myriad spring breaks spent exploring quaint coastal communities in and around Port Ludlow, Washington. Some of my fondest childhood memories spring forth from days spent poking my curious face into every trinket shop in → Read more...

Paint By Numbers

Or, My Asian Adventure, Numerically Speaking.

1: Raw Ginseng root eaten after being offered by a kindly man with wrinkles showcasing his eyes at the Yangyang market. Also the number of photos I was asked to be in with total strangers (at the Forbidden City in Beijing).

6: Times I was asked to take pictures for total strangers.

2: Cups of mineral water I drank directly from a spring in the ground (in Osaek).

3: Flights (out of 5) wherein I had two (or → Read more...

Eggers-How We Are Hungry

I knew the Red Pyramid had just been reopened, or was about to be reopened, though I didn’t know why they called it Red. I wanted to ride on a horse through the desert. I wanted to see if this man–slight, with brown teeth, wide-set eyes, a cop mustache–would try to kill me. There were plenty of Egyptians who would love to kill me, I was sure, and I was ready to engage in any way with someone who wanted → Read more...