Off White Wedding

I had to run. It was all I could do to keep the damn from bursting.  I took a big swig of my brother in-laws beer in hopes that I would calm my nerves.  I didn’t even try to hide it from my family who were all happily making camp. Lucky no one saw.  I grabbed my I-Pod and headed for the wood.  I search for any song with the word “hate”.  I thought if I could experience the rage in song it might save me from blowing up.  It did not work.

I let out a rough gravelly full lung scream.   A wrath filled howled as I fell to the ground. Gushing tears. Within seconds a grizzled man in a golf cart pulled up beside me.  

“Are ya okey hun? Why ya crying?”, said Golf Man

blood boiling, “I should have been there!   I should have been a part of this.  The person I love more than anyone on this planet got married.  I was literally feet away from her and I missed it.”

“Oh…are you a Mormon?” he said

“NO! I’m never going back!” I yelled “They preach all this crap about family and yet as far as I know they are the only Christ based religion that teaches families can’t be together forever.   I go to a lesser heaven if I drink, even if I’m good?  I can’t see my sister get married because of my underwear? It’s sick!”

My little sister got married and I missed it.  There is nothing you can say to make that okay.  Some have reminded me that the wedding in a mormon temple odd. Let me make this clear…my little sister could have gotten married in a KKK uniform in a Wal-Mart clearance aisle and done the entire ceremony in pig laten and I would have still been moved to tears.   

 Growing up I always wanted to be a good example to my sister.  When she was 3 I used to play school with her.  I taught her how to spell which if you read my blog you will see the irony.  When she took the ACT she got a 24 which is more than really good.  I also introduced her to theater where she met her “5” best friends. I taught her to play guitar. I taught her it was wrong to write with your left hand(she blames me for her bad hand writing now).  I even taught her how to play Dungeons and Dragons which her new husband loves.(NERD)  When I left for collage my parent’s marriage was struggling.  She was home alone with them but I called her constantly to make sure she was okay.  When we were at BYU we did everything together. I remember driving her to a Jujitsu tournament and watching her get strangled by her opponents.  Oh that killed me.  I wanted to jump in and punch them.  This paragraph could go on and on…

When the “inciting incident” happened my sister was right there.  She came in my room while I lay on the bed shaking and crying.  I thought God had a plan for me?  Yet every single aspect of my life was crashing and burning.  My sister came over and held me while I cried.  She told me to pry and read my scriptures. I baulked at this. I had been. She looked at me concerned and almost crying. 

“I’m worried,” she said, “that if you don’t stay close to the church you won’t make it through this.”

3 weeks in a mental hospital, one month in Europe later, and I am better than I ever have been in my life.  I did it with the help of God, not the church.  My God loves me and knows me as the kind loving strong person I am.  He could care less if I drink coffee, or ware a tank top.  He doesn’t need my money, or me to pledge allegiance to Joseph Smith. He wants me to share my smile and help others and love them.  Now that I left the church I’m happy.  I never think about killing myself.  I am making friends with people whose company I enjoy.  I’m grateful I left UT.  With all this happiness I dread the day I tell my little sister I’m not a Mormon.  What kind of example is that?

An old boyfriend of mine, Andy, agreed to take the pictures at her wedding. I was glad he was there.  We never had a love connection but he was a good friend.  My friend John(who will be in my next post) was there and my heathen sister as well.  I was glad to have them.

  She looked stunning.  More beautiful than I have ever seen her.  When she walked out the doors my eyes exploded with tears.  Tears of sorrow and a hint of joy slid down my face.  I stood back silently sobbing, watching complete stranger congratulate my sister. They were able to witness it.  While the maid of honor was punished for never vowing to give her life to the church.  Then a beautiful moment happened.  My sister saw me in tear and came and hugged me.  Just me.  This was my moment.  Again she held me as I cried.  Andy my old BF captured every moment of it.  I hope he sends me every picture because when I think of my sister marriage that was it.  Those few seconds where I told my sister I love her and was happy for her. For just a moment I was not a post-Mormon in hiding.  I was the older sister who was able to see her “little one” in a wedding dress. 

In retro speck, I wish I had gotten my endowments (magic underwear).  I don’t believe it is true so what did it matter.  I guess it proves I’m a good person that I didn’t.  Temples are sacred to Mormons so I should respect that.  Though I frequently day dreamed about throwing my hands up in the middle of an endowment session and saying “WHAT THE F#&K! NO ONE TOLD ME ABOUT THIS CRAZY SHIZZ!”  Then storm out.  It does not matter now.  I will do my best to remember the good from her wedding day. The reception was beautiful.  It was fun and I was able to forget the traumatizing event at the Jordan River Temple.  I was able to give a toast that was both tender and embarrassing to my little sister and danced like mad.  When the time came for her to run to the car I panicked and turned to a bride’s maid.

 “Oh shoot did anyone decorate the car?”, I asked.

“Don’t worry” said Molly Mormon, “we took care of it.”

“Like HELL you did, give me that!” I said

I bolted for the door, pen in hand and sure enough the car was decorated, but not a single penis donned the windows.  I hurriedly drew as many dicks as my hand could. (I am sort of an expert now that I have actually seen one.)  The church may have taken away the wedding ceremony but it was not going to deprive my sister of the dirty honeymoon drive.    When she saw the car everyone laughed. My sister almost cried she was laughing so hard.  The funniest thing was seeing all the Mollys and Peter’s so upset screaming, “We didn’t draw that! Who did that?”

“I did,” I Shouted, “and if it weren’t for me there would not be a single DICK on that car…Your welcome.”

I still cry when I think of my sister wedding.  I think of her wedding a lot. This will pass.  Someday maybe I will get married.  I hope I do.  If I do no temple will be in site.  My whole family will be invited Mormon and Non-Mormon alike.  Maybe then I will be able to forgive Joseph Smith.  Maybe then I will accept my sister’s “wedding” as a wedding.  Maybe then I will be able see a photo from that day and not cry. Maybe then but not today.