Finding the Right Words

Last weekend, my only son and his fiancé married in Big Sky, Montana. If you have read my memoir, then you know that Montana has been a favorite destination for my family since the late 90s. One of our nation’s largest states in terms of territory, Montana has one of the lowest populations. Known as The Last Best Place, Montana is still a throwback to another era. It’s a rustic destination known for nature, adventure, and experiences like fishing, skiing, hiking, and wildlife viewing. 

Like most family weddings, the planning had been in the works for over a year. And like any in-person event scheduled during the last two years, both the bride and groom’s families harbored high hopes that Mother Nature–i.e., the pandemic and its upticks, as well as extreme winter weather and air travel snafus– would not interfere with a perfect marriage celebration. Also on everyone’s mind was whether my husband’s recent death would keep us from enjoying a spectacular union of two incredible individuals.

So, for the rehearsal dinner–instead of my husband–I would welcome sixty wedding guests at one our family’s favorite restaurants. The moment was auspicious: my first rehearsal dinner speech, and the first time I’d returned to my beloved Montana without my husband of thirty-seven years. These factors weighed on me as I fiddled with my speech prior to flying to Bozeman. On the flight, I labored over selecting the most appropriate stories from a rich family history. Settling upon the correct tone for such a joyous, yet bittersweet occasion evaded me. With two days to go, I landed on a mixture of stories that roasted my son, toasted my future daughter-in-law, and which added family nostalgia. 

On the day of the rehearsal dinner, I went over my notes. Pleased overall with the content, the final version lacked something. On another read through, I realized I’d failed to insert my husband’s voice into the narrative. While it was I who would deliver the speech, the message was from both of us. My husband was a man who never shied away from imparting his vision for life or his opinions about goals and relationships. Those concepts needed to be worked in. I was at a loss.

I set the speech aside and clicked through emails. While I cleared my inbox, I hoped that my subconscious would work to help me bridge the gap between a nice welcome speech to a message that would both move and inform. 

Every morning, I receive inspirational quotes, poems, and stories from an online source. As I scanned the day’s short list, one of the selections sparked closer study. I scrambled for a piece of paper, but today’s hotel rooms provide little of what one used to find in desk drawers. Rummaging through my backpack, I found an envelope and scribbled down the poem I’d found on the back cover. When I turned over the envelope, my astonished giggle filled the empty room. 

You see, not only had I found the inspiration for the conclusion of my speech, but I realized I had written it on the back of an envelope which was something my late husband would have done. And the envelope on which I had chosen to do so held my son’s wedding invitation!

Serendipity had won the day.

That evening, amidst choked back tears, I shared the family stories that informed the guests and my future daughter-in-law about the man she would marry. I spoke about the day when my son introduced me to her and how important it was that his three sisters approve of his choice for a partner. I welcomed my daughter-in-law to our family, and then I repeated the poem below which imparted my husband’s philosophies. 

In closing, I will say this. In life we are often rewarded when we are patient and open. And often, it is not our own words that fill the mark, but the vision of others which carry us forward. 

Live with intention.
Walk to the edge.
Listen hard.
Practice wellness.
Play with abandon.
Laugh.
Choose with no regret.
Appreciate your friends.
Continue to learn.
Do what you love.
Live as if this is all there is.

– Mary Anne Radmacher

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