I was married 5 years ago. At city hall. No guests. And I was pregnant.
It was not the wedding I envisioned. But not because I was pregnant. I was told I would never have children. Miscarriages confirmed that. Until one day, after unrelated surgery, I found I was feeling unwell and then found out I was knocked up!
We had gotten engaged two years before, there was no to-do. Barely any excitement. It was during the spell in which we were attempting a relationship with my bio-mom, step-father and that branch of my family. They are a very self-absorbed group of people. We tried on several occasions to orchestrate a wedding. With no help from them. Just a lot of chatter about how inconvenient it was going to be. Gee, thanks supposed immediate family.
I found a dress. Feel in love with it. Hanging there in the boutique window. It was on sale! Yes!! And not your typical wedding dress. But pretty. And what I wanted to be married in…so I bought it. And then it sat in my closet for over a year…
It still has the tags on…
And it still fits.
*** *** ***
The Brothers Gruff: Conclusion
The Bridge Re-visited
The troll had never wanted to stop using the bridge. But the troll had other issues. And the bridge had become too stressful a passage. There had to be other options. In the end, even though it was not the troll’s desire to abandon the bridge, it was for the best.
In that experience the troll learned that sometimes you have to give up things in order to have greater things at a later time. The troll learned that it is okay to be selfish, to put yourself first. Sometimes you have to. Sometimes it is a life or death matter. And the troll desperately wanted to live.
Many years later, and after many bumpy roads, the troll felt the time had come to revisit the bridge. So the troll sent a message to the bridge. Just to see if it was still there…
And it was.
The closeness the troll and Brother One shared was sadly one-sided. Always there to help, the troll soon found certain liberties were being taken. Some might call it taking advantage.
Brother One had asked the troll to hold on to something. Something that had been deemed invaluable. Not for its monetary value. Brother One was desperate. There was nowhere else for it to go and both the troll and Brother One had noticed a goblin lingering. He wanted the item. Desperately. One the day Brother One and the troll went to collect it, they found the goblin in the midst of taking it for himself. The troll quickly put an end to that.
It was not a small item, hence Brother One’s own difficulties finding storage for it, and the troll (and others) made tremendous sacrifices to house the brother’s things. Though he never appeared to understand just what that meant. And when the day came (nearly 8 years later!) that the troll needed the item removed Brother One declined to respond. Brother One had not been in touch with the troll for several months. The troll, confused and befuddled, tried various means to get in touch with Brother One. It was not until the threat of its disposal that Brother One and his cockroach friends emerged from the darkness…
And when Brother One came to pick up his item, he stood in the troll’s home, in silence as it was all carted away. There was no exchange. No thanks given. Silence.
Then he was gone.
Never to be heard from again.
Not one for confrontation, Brother Two avoided the troll. At least, as best as he could. Over the years a handful of instances put them in each other’s company. It was most unpleasant. Each and every time. Like at a wedding. When certain people tried to bring Brother One, the troll and Brother Two together. Brother One had too much to drink. Nerves got the better of him that day and he was useless. Used avoidance as his weapon. The troll did not. The troll attempted to exchange pleasantries. Unsuccessfully. And then Brother Two did something the troll would never forget. Or ignore.
The troll did not care for Brother Two and his ways. It was quite obvious that feeling was mutual.
There was a loss during this time. One the troll may not have known about had the troll not had friends in other places. The obituary was kind. The troll sent flowers. And on the day of the funeral received a phone call from Brother Two. He told the troll of the passing. Graveside.
And that was the last time the troll ever spoke to Brother Two.
Until the letter that said “…you will get what you deserve.”
And it did not mean it nicely.
Brother Three is almost a complete mystery to the troll. Especially his hatred. And unwillingness to discover truth. The troll did not understand how Brother Three arrived at such strong feelings. And judgement.
Too many times over the years the troll tried. Letters. Calls.
But no response ever came.
And this deeply saddened the troll.
The Bridge to Happiness
Once the troll the started frequenting the bridge again there were some who thought things would change. Some who thought the brothers and the troll would reunite. Rekindle. Embark on the next leg of the journey through life with the support of one another. The troll knew better. The troll had no expectations. And it appeared some misunderstood the troll’s wants.
Brother One has a lot to explain. A lot to apologize for. And he will never do either. At least, if history tells us anything.
Brother Two also has a lot to apologize for; perhaps, more than anyone. And I doubt that will ever happen. It is not in his nature. And he seems pretty stuck that way.
Brother Three is young. Perhaps still dumb. Regardless, it is hard to want a relationship with, and have around, someone so full of hate and judgement. Especially around young, impressionable children.
The bridge was not an easy crossing the first time. But as time went on, the bridge and the troll were able to rebuild their relationship. The troll never imagined being able to count on the bridge. And whenever the troll needed, the bridge was there; easing the transition and offering support. Every once in a while Brothers Two and Three would come to shake the bridge. Whether the troll was on it or not. They seemed intent on disallowing the reconnection.
But this is what the troll and the bridge want. It has nothing to do with the brothers. It really has no bearing or effect on their relationship with or use of the bridge. Just as before. When the troll decided to stop using the bridge. Because the relationship between the troll and the bridge is just that, between them. Just as the one shared by each of the brothers and the bridge is.
The bridge still has lofty ideas. A want for things to continue to progress. A desire for change. And restructuring.
And it is completely understandable.
But the troll believes there is still happiness to be found right here.
The way things are.
*** *** ***
When we found out we were pregnant we were over the moon excited. And suddenly it sparked a strong urge and desire to be married. Since the support for that event was so lacking we settled on a date. September 11. No special reason. And, in light of the events years previous, a sombre remembrance. In fact, the date was selected because of its convenience. The four people who were to be present were able to be so that day. City Hall had a cancellation and we were welcome to the slot. And we finally convinced my mum-in-law to book the day off work.
Because I was pregnant, my dream dress didn’t fit. I had to run out last minute and grab something. Same with my hubby-to-be. We got ready in our cramped powder room (we lived with my future mum-in-law at the time, our wee bungalow only had the one full bathroom), tripping over one another in an effort to look wedding ready. I had uncomfortably short hair at the time. I dislike make-up so that was a chore. I never remembered a bouquet (though to be fair, my bio-mom did).
We all (me, Big Joe, mum, bio-mom, step-father and Brother One) piled into the van and headed downtown. To city hall. Most people there were in jean shorts and tank tops. Not my choice of wedding garb, but then again, neither was my particular dress. The woman who performed our ceremony was lovely. She brought in a bit of humour and ushered out the formality. Something we totally appreciated. Less than an hour later we were on our way back to the car.
A quick lunch at a Greek restaurant was the reception. The honeymoon was a few days up north dog-sitting (for bio-mom). I made us a wee little cake and we shared it. Just the two, er, three of us.
I have always been averse to saying I have regrets. I find it a perplexing bundle of emotions. I am of the mind that regrets cause us to call into questions our current position. We would not be where we are if we had not taken all of the steps before, each one critical for our arrival to the now. And I love the now. I am so tremendously overjoyed to be where I am.
But I do wish my wedding had been different. I do wish my daddy had been there to walk me down the aisle. I do wish that the wedding had been outside as we had wanted. I do wish there had (at least) been a reception. I wish my mom had been there through it all. I do wish there were pictures. Memories. I wish it had not been such a rush job.
At the same time. It was my wedding day. I still married my soul mate. And that’s a hard thing to regret.