"What are you doing?" Johnny O inquires.
"Watching football," I answer.
"I have a strange requests."
Johnny O and I have a rich friendship and a long tradition of doing out of the ordinary things together and in larger groups so I'm not especially suspicious.
"Can you do an illegal wedding?"
"What does that mean?"
"They don't have a license but have to get married," he explains.
Johnny works at "The Hotel Tybee" and I naturally assume, this being Tybee and all, some Dude met the love of his life last night at Benny's, are getting married today before they return to their respective homes tomorrow.
"Why not?" I tell him. "I'll even cut my fee in half because no paper work's involved."
"GREAT!" he says hanging up.
At 3:00 I arrive at the Hotel carrying my Black Robe to wear over my UGA tee shirt and black running shorts.
Then it gets magically strange and wonderful.
The Groom sits in a wheelchair with half open eyes, a mouth where only one side works and white fingers made of wax. He is dying and his bucket list included one last trip to Tybee and to marry the woman who's been with him for years.
The Bride is nervous and flutters about, handing her daughter the rings and straightening her dress.
"Dearly Beloved," I begin, stranding there in my robe, one hand of blessing in the air, and I ask them if they freely and totally commit themselves to each other as companions for whatever amount of life they have left.
A long pregnant pause follows.
"I will," he softly slurs.
She cries tenderly placing the ring on his finger made of wax.
"You may kiss ..." and I trail off because he's incapable of moving.
But she kisses him and they cry ... and he says, "I should have done this 17 years ago."
"Well you're doing it now," she tells him and Husband and Wife continue their consummation as I made my way out of the room.
Outside in the bright sunshine, robe slung over my shoulder, leaning against the car, I wipe the salt water from my eyes and take a deep breath.
Sometimes if you're lucky, you have the opportunity to participate in the Holiest of things and it never leaves you when you do. Seventeen years is a long time to put off what you always meant to do but, for whatever reason, didn't. Even at the last minute ... it's never too late.
Heading home, I find myself resolved to let Sarah and our kids know how much I love them now. I don't want to put it off.
