Monday, September 1, 2008: 5:27 pm
written somewhere over the Atlantic
en route from London to New York
From my Twitter, 8/31, 2:13 am, in Oxford: “I say this without one trace of the cynicism I’ve been harboring for the past 10 months: This wedding made me believe in love again.”
I believe now, as I did when I wrote that in the early hours after Natasha’s Oxford wedding, that it was the most beautiful ceremony I had ever seen - will ever see - in my life.
Yes, it made me believe in love again. It did. I saw her walking down the aisle, I saw him smile, I watched his eyes; it was a “holy shit” moment. All of these images flashed into my mind, from when we were little girls, from when we sat and talked about what our weddings would look like, from when we wondered who our husbands would be, when we played (inanely) The Bride’s Game, when we had our first kisses and when we lost our virginity … when we went away to college, when we fell in love once, twice, more than a few times. When we thought we had found The One, but found instead we were wrong. When we had our hearts broken, and broke hearts in return.
I watched her courtship unfold with Tom from a distance, but I knew the moment I saw that first photograph of them together that they would be married one day.
So when I saw her for the first time in her perfect white wedding dress, the sunlight inexplicably - and yet, unsurprisingly - streaming down through the stained glass on what should have been a rainy British day, I saw that little girl. I couldn’t stop crying, for the joy, because seeing someone living so fully is the most beautiful thing you can witness in life, because she has been so blessed, and because I have been blessed to know her, and to witness this.
Overwhelmed by gratitude, for her, for who she is, for who he must be for her to love him so, for this marriage, for the hope and the love filling the room - I will never forget that emotion. The tears fell as fast as I could put the tissue to my eyes; it was all I could do to stop myself from actually sobbing.
The chaplain spoke about love - not the love of Corinthians (thank you), or the scientific, dopamine-driven love, or love that shrivels with the seven-year itch, but this eternal love, a love that never goes away, a love that’s universal at its source - whether that source is god or the universe or a human collective, this love cannot be depleted. I felt that love emanating through the chapel as he spoke, as she walked down the aisle, as she closed her eyes and listened to the choir sing - perfectly, of course, like angels - as she looked at Tom with this incredible, unbelievable depth of feeling.
I could see the 9-year-old Natasha, singing at the top of her lungs, I could see the 11-year-old Natasha telling me about how [redacted], a boy who loved her madly, had broken out from his parents house and ridden miles just to drop off a mix tape. I could see the 13-year-old Natasha, announcing, steadfast in her unwavering ambition, she was heading to the local all-girls high school, for it would be “easier to get into Stanford from there” (she went to the coed school with me instead, still had no problem getting in). I could see the 15-year-old Natasha surrounded by groupies - she always had groupies - who loved her, adored her, would do anything for her. And so on, and so on … all of the memories came flooding back.
Natasha was then, as she is now, extraordinary. She’s always been precocious, a force - a “rocket” as my ex Alex might have said, his term for women who “blow him away.” She’s always refused to settle for anything less than perfection - and surprisingly (for strangers, but not for those who knew her), getting everything she wanted. Natasha knew The Secret before The Secret was ever written.
There is no one like her. That makes it all the worse - or the better, depending upon which side of the love you’re on. Natasha is not - nor has she ever been - afraid to feel intensely. In return, she’s always inspired love, this unwavering, unfaltering, intensity of love, which is fitting, because Natasha’s an intense person. She doesn’t do things half-way or half-assed. In fact, I’m not sure she allows herself use of the word “half,” unless it’s “half off retail.” Less than 100% was never good enough for her. But it’s never been (well … usually) a pretentious, ostentatious perfectionism. She’s refused to compromise because she knows she can achieve anything she desires. And yes, that includes an unmatched, unreal, breathtaking wedding.
And this wedding - this wedding was right out of a storybook, or a fairy tale. In truth, it was probably right out of her wildest imagination. When she walked down that aisle, when she looked at her groom, when she smiled - every time she smiled this radiant, glowing smile - I saw that little girl. The little girl I loved when I was young, the little girl I watched grow up.
It was Natasha who really taught me what “joie de vivre” meant - back before I knew such a term existed. “An exuberant enjoyment of life,” that’s always been her.
That’s what I wanted these wedding guests to see. That she’s not changed, not the essence, which was, and always will be - shockingly intelligent, deeply thoughtful, strikingly beautiful, unequivocally unique.
I am honored to know her, and I was honored to attend her wedding.
