A Whiskey Soaked Wedding

Sometimes, I feel a need to share something funny about our lives. It’s not only to take a break from the heaviness that has become a new part of my being since Rick passed, but an opportunity  also  to give you a glimpse into the life we shared. It is not an exaggeration; we lived our lives to the fullest. We had fun, we worked hard, and played harder. We made mistakes along the way, but we didn’t take ourselves too seriously and spent time laughing at ourselves and each other. I am thankful that we didn’t wait until we were both retired to have some of our adventures. We were busy making memories from the get-go and had we not it would make the sting of losing Rick worse; full of the aching that comes along with regrets.

I like to look on the bright side. I search for the light at the end of the tunnel when life feels challenging. It took me a tremendous amount of time before I could even see a teeny tiny sliver of light after Rick died. I am confident that it’s what made this journey so difficult.

When we would attend a wedding, I liked to look for the imperfections because to me it was a sign their lives together would be long, happy, and perfectly imperfect. After reading this, you will agree that if cringeworthy weddings are an indication they will last, Rick and I are proof!

In the fall of 1985, Rick and I got married in a tiny church that was next to the school where Rick and I saw each other again and we blossomed from there. I love how we met and in that moment, it was our souls colliding in this lifetime. It was a simple look between two kids who knew nothing about love and yet we felt it. And five years later, clueless about what being grown up meant, we were thrust into parenthood. Young and naïve, we were determined to change old family dysfunctions and have a successful life together.

My best friends Gail and Margi and I spent hours flipping through bridal catalogues planning our dream weddings.  I wish that our wedding could have been filled with a sweet story that complimented how we met that summer so many years ago. My one regret is that we only have a few pictures that captured our special day, even if though it was far from my dream wedding.

When we got married our baby was twelve days old. I planned it, paid for most of it, and it showed! At that time, no one was interested in helping me plan our wedding. At seventeen years old, I had no idea what I was doing, either. Neither of our parents wanted to pay for a marriage that would never last the first year. My parents didn’t pay for the wedding but thank goodness they bought me a wedding gift: a salt and pepper shaker! Funnily, it didn’t even upset me. I learned when I was young not to have any expectations, that way it minimized any disappointment.

I don’t want to sound completely ungrateful, so I have to acknowledge one important fact. They did pay for the booze, which in their minds was THE most important part.  I can laugh about it now. There were times after Rick and I raised our children; paid for one wedding and Wade’s honeymoon that we shook our heads at my parents’ commitment to supplying the alcohol. Those who knew my parents will agree when I say it describes them to a “T.”  Their perceived notion that the only way anyone can have  fun, is if alcohol is involved. I imagine them “high fiving” and congratulating themselves on a job well done… in private, of course. In my stepdad’s eyes, I was the epitome of a disobedient child, whose strong will must be broken. It was an awesome responsibility, but he was willing to take on the challenge for humanity’s sake. Sure, they may have been raging alcoholics by the time it was all said and done, but why minimize his accomplishment? 

Spoiler alert: he didn’t break me and I managed not to become a serial killer.

A few weeks before our wedding day, I realized I still hadn’t found someone to marry us. It wasn’t as easy as you think it should have been. At that time, no one in our family went to church regularly and being underage required marriage classes before being granted a marriage license. Why I didn’t realize the most important thing to confirm was the minister is beyond me.

Oh, wait. Could it be that I was young and inexperienced on this small detail?

By the time I realized I needed to find one, it was too late. I panicked and cried many tears thinking our wedding would be canceled. On top of everything else we had gone through over this last year, this only added to my feelings of failure, inadequacy, and humiliation. My mom and I discussed the options. All were unacceptable to me and yet, I had no choice. The final decision was that we would go to Idaho with our parents and get married there since the laws were less strict. I wanted to come back and still have a reception on the wedding date on which we had planned. My parents both refused. I didn’t understand why, and it felt like it was another example of their lack of support. It would be humiliating to have to inform all of our guests that the wedding was cancelled. I bawled my eyes out for days to come, still stubbornly refusing to cancel our wedding just yet.

By some dumb luck I spotted an ad in the Missoulian newspaper for a minister. I called her right away and even though I was under eighteen, she agreed to marry us if we had our parents’ consent.

We met her the night before at the church for our rehearsal. I thought it was odd that she was wearing sunglasses since the sun was already setting and it was getting dusky. When she took them off so she could read the bible verses, it became apparent why! I would recognize those glassy, bloodshot eyes anywhere. My heart sank. Crap. She’s a drunk!

She seemed lucid enough while doing the rehearsal, so I relaxed a little. I was hopeful that tomorrow we would be lucky enough that she would stay sober. At best, at least keep the shots of booze to a minimum. The main reason being that saying my maiden name Hoblitzell was challenging enough when saying it sober, but trying to say it intoxicated would be quite the challenge. If not impossible. Would we even be married if she couldn’t pronounce our names correctly? What if she mixed up the father of the bride and the groom’s names?

Ridiculous? Perhaps.

There’s no way that would happen, right?

Lady Luck was not in attendance that day, but a highly intoxicated minister was. To my horror, drunken shenanigans ensued before we even made it to the reception as we witnessed her stumble out of her car!

Looking back on how much laughter played a part of our daily lives, it was indeed fitting there was a humorous story to tell about our Wedding Day, since a fairy tale wedding was not on the agenda.

Sure enough, on our big day as we drove up to the church, there she was, sitting in her car wearing sunglasses even though there was no need on this dreary September day. To my chagrin, we watched as she removed her sunglasses, and shakily placed Visine into each eye before getting out of her car. All of us in the car gasped at the sight of her as she opened her car door she fell out onto the ground, fumbling with the door to help her stand up. As she leaned on her car door for support, she dusted off her pants, straightened her jacket, put her sunglasses back on, and popped a piece of gum into her mouth, she staggered toward the church entrance. Never missing a beat, she smiled as if a parking lot full of people did not just witness her hilarious drunken display.  I imagined her glassy eyes as red as they were the day before, her sunglasses hiding her secret.  I tried to convince myself it was no big deal. While at the same time reminding myself no matter what, I couldn’t cry and ruin my make up.

Looking around, I felt my face flush with embarrassment as I realized how many people witnessed her falling out of her car, obviously a bit tipsy. Some looked around uncomfortable with the drunken display, while others were having a good laugh. That familiar feeling of dread and disappointment washed over me. I told myself that she would be fine. Lots of people were functioning drunks. I lived with two of them! I convinced myself she wasn’t that drunk. That is until she came up to us and smelled like a whiskey distillery! I held my breath. She reeked! I wondered if she missed her mouth completely or worse took a bath in it. I stared at her, incredulous that it was worse than I imagined. I was aghast that when looking in the mirror to use the  Visine, she failed to notice her orange-red lipstick was smeared around her lips as if my two-year-old brother had applied it for her. Showing us her biggest smile, I noticed the lipstick was also smeared on her teeth. My heart sunk, as she swayed back and forth and there was nothing we could do about it, but endure it.

During the ceremony, as she tried to pronounce names, spittle showered the bible she was holding as she slurred her words. Swaying back and forth, I was distracted by the lipstick still on her teeth wishing she would wipe it off.  I cringed at the shit show that was supposed to be one of the most cherished days in my life.  It certainly would be memorable though not only for Rick and me; all who witnessed the minister turned standup comedian swaying in front of them. I was confident she was going to topple over and face plant right in front of God and everyone! But she didn’t.

It could have been so much worse. But wait! There’s more.

She could have vomited all over the wedding party or passed out in her car unable to perform the ceremony. Bright side. She didn’t. However, she was unable to  pronounce my first or last name, and even managed to switch Rick’s and my stepdad’s names during our vows. I didn’t flinch at this point; all I could do was laugh incredulously. What a story!

I am confident if I had been one of the guests, I would have been biting my lip to keep from laughing hysterically. So, it was no surprise when my aunts started laughing uncontrollably; the sort of laugh that shakes your whole body and brings tears to your eyes. I will give them credit, they were trying to be quiet, but they were not. My Uncle Dale admonished  them, and they managed to muffle their giggles so everyone couldn’t hear them. I was mortified as things kept getting worse and worse. Seriously, who could blame them?

The only good thing to come out of this day was getting married to my sweetheart… at least that’s the hope!

No. My wedding was the furthest thing from a fairytale. To make matters worse, when we got to the reception, we heard that people were making bets on how long we would stay married. (Insert middle finger here). But, we got the last laugh!

 Thirty-six years!!!

Or as Rick would say with a twinkle in his eyes, “thirty-six long, hard years.”

Four months later, everything we owned fit into the back of a ’76 Datsun pickup and we began our new lives in Washington. It was supposed to be a temporary move. We vowed to be back home to Montana in a few years, but we never made it there. Instead we planted our roots firmly in Washington state.

I love our success story. I am PROUD of it.

Rick and I used to joke we weren’t even legally married. Living in sin for all of these years. But the best part was that I knew I loved him more than I did on that day. We had grown up together, raised each other while raising children. We were the cliched best friends! I loved that man more than I thought possible, and I never doubted he loved me more than his own life.

Did a piece of paper really matter at this point?

As you can imagine, since our wedding was less than perfect (and the niggling doubt that we may not be legally married),  I always wanted a “do-over.” To renew our wedding vows and have the wedding I once dreamed of. Afterall, we beat the odds and to top it off, we still liked each other’s company most of the time!

Life was never a challenge for us as we grew up together, clueless and growing a family. Our success was because we were an amazing team. We received no handouts. We busted our butts. Everything that we have was because of our dedication to each other. We were committed to living a full life with our amazing little family that two clueless kids from Montana built. Life was indeed a big adventure and we lived it to the fullest. I carry only a few regrets, most of which I am at peace with, now.

Except one that will follow me for the rest of my days.

He died six months away from retirement. Life is cruel sometimes and feels like a sick joke played on us by the fates. But even in the midst of such cruelty we can find a glimmer of humor if we look for it. This is a reminder for me to not to take life too seriously since losing Rick and remember to laugh a little which I do, every time I wonder if I am not actually married to Rick, but my stepdad instead.