I posted a blog called Three Toasts in April of 2020. It was about the three toasts that I offered when each of my three children were married: David in August of 2004, Mike in October of 2009 and Elizabeth in April of 2010. I’m a crier and I cried through each toast. When I have an emotional tie to something, tears fall. It’s not what I want, but it’s what I’ve got. I’m a mister softy stuck in the body of a seventy-eight-year-old.
Each toast was made specifically for the two getting married. While the three came from a common set of parents, they each selected a unique wedding location and set of vows. They made similar promises but have continued to follow their own paths.
Mike and Kate celebrated their anniversary a couple of weeks ago. I missed it. I whiffed on David and Lindsay’s in August and the only reason I caught Elizabeth’s last April was I called her on the phone about something else, and she reminded me.
Here’s the run down on Michael and Kate’s toast from that 2020 story.
Mike and Kate had a destination wedding on the big island of Hawaii. They were married on the beach on the afternoon of October 2, 2009. Kate scheduled the time of the ceremony so that wedding pictures would coincide with the setting sun. It was beautiful.
It was terribly windy that day. Folding chairs were thrown about, ladies held down their dresses, and everyone marveled at how constant the strength of the wind remained. The minister offered up an explanation of the wind when she said, “The wind is the souls of those who have passed before us. They are arriving at the wedding.” If that is indeed the case, we had hundreds of uninvited, but welcome, guests.
The prior evening the wedding party, and our extended family members, gathered at our condo. We cooked food on the patio, played games in the house, and shared a grand time. When it came time to offer up a toast, I spoke and cried through most of it.
I spoke of the relationship between Ruth and our grandson, Brady, who was five at the time. Ruth, Brady, and his sister, Eva had gone on several ice cream taste tests throughout the prior summer. Ruth often commented that she thought, “The best bite of an ice cream cone is the last one.” One day, as the summer was drawing to a close, Brady handed Ruth the last bite of his cone.
When she asked, “Why are you giving this to me?” His reply was simple, but heartfelt. “Because I love you, Nana.”
I concluded my toast with “True love is sharing everything, even the things that you’d like to save for yourself.”
I built the toast around the last bite theme. Like everything I’ve written, it’s the truth as I remember it. Ruth talked about the last bite before we had kids, let alone grandkids. Her last bite of each cone was a celebration. She savored each one. That’s one of the reasons we were together as long as we were. She got excited about things, even the last bites of a cone, and I liked seeing her happy,
My big take away is we don’t celebrate enough. Many of us are searching for more each day. Some of us don’t take time to celebrate the now part of life. We long for the past or look forward to the future and for many of us now is the best part. We just don’t take advantage of the moment.
When we consider each of our lives, we take a last bite every day. We just don’t know it. The last time we witness the birth of a child, plan a trip, sing a song or dance a jig, speak with our moms or dads, go to a fancy restaurant, run through the house naked, long for a lost love, or meet a new one, could be the last. Take nothing for granted. That’s life’s biggest curse. We need to celebrate the now every day because today may bring our last bite.