We’re not quite at the point where we’re ready to talk about the actual wedding just yet. There’s still some things that have to be covered first (but we’re getting closer…lol)When Mike started dating me he also got thrown into my family head first. Thankfully he was a “family guy” - being raised by his mother and grandmother definitely had it advantages. He didn’t mind spending time at home with my parents and my sister - letting them get to know him and vice-versa. There were many Sunday BBQ’s and lots of outings for the two of us which included my little sister who is 4 years younger than me.

My Dad is an electrician by trade and also worked in carpentry for many years. There was nothing he couldn’t build or fix. We never had to “call someone” when something broke or something needed to be built. Dad did it, Dad always did it. It was something we always took for granted. My Daddy knew everything. Mike started doing some small jobs with my Dad during the weekends and when he wasn’t working. Dad taught him a lot about wiring houses and general carpentry and he turned Mike into the best cement-mixer in the world! This was one area where growing up without a male role model may have put Mike somewhat behind the 8 Ball (which is not always a bad thing). Mike just wasn’t really a hand’s-on type guy. I often tease him and call him Tim The Tool Man! Now don’t get me wrong - he can cook up a storm, takes great care of the house, does laundry, and windows and is one of the most sensitive guys I know. However, in my family, I was more used to the guys doing all the more stereo-typical “man things” - building houses, doing renovations, electrical, plumbing, woodwork, you name it. It took a while for me to realize that Mike just didn’t learn all these things and that there were different things he excelled at. (Sometimes, I still have to remind myself of this.)

There was another thing that all the male members of my family did - a family tradition if you will. They were all members of our community’s volunteer fire department. Being in a firefighter’s family was something I had known my entire life. Dad could be in the middle of supper, we could be on our way out the door, he could be sound asleep in the middle of the night. It could happen at any time. When the fire alarm rang, he was off life a shot. My uncles and my cousins (when they became of age) rounded out a group of dedicated individuals who would enter burning buildings without a second thought. Mike quickly became accustomed to hearing the pager go off and getting out of the way - fast. (He also learned in a hurry not to park his car behind Dad’s in our driveway!)

Mike started to develop a real friendship with one of my cousins who was a member of the department and found himself spending quite a bit of time with him at the fire station. He enjoyed hearing the stories and meeting some of the other firefighters. He was considering applying to become a member of the department after we were married. Even though he spent the majority of his time before we were married at my house, he had to be a permanent resident of the area before he was able to join. As it stood now, he lived 25 minutes away, and when the pager rang, time was of the essence. I could tell that Mike would get as much of an adrenalin rush as the other guys would when the tones went off for a call, so you can only imagine his surprise the night Dad looked at him and said, “Well, are you just gonna sit there, or are you coming?” I don’t think I ever saw him move as fast.

After that night, Dad really took Mike under his wing. During evenings that I was working, Dad would be down at the fire station with Mike showing him equipment, teaching him everything he needed to know about firefighting. Dad became a mentor. Mike became a sponge - he absorbed it all. I don’t know who I was more excited for. Dad had two daughters and it was nice for him to be able to share this part of his life with his soon to be son-in-law. It was also nice to see Mike and Dad bonding. Family is so important to me, and after everything I went through with the “other fella” it was great to see my Dad spending time with the man in my life.

Mike became absorbed in the life of a firefighter. He wanted to know everything there was to know about fighting fires and the equipment used to do so. He read anything he could get his hands on, he asked questions, he used the equipment. He caught on to procedures very quickly and soon became an “unofficial” member of the department. He lived, breathed, ate and slept the fire service and was quickly proving that he had a passion for this very important aspect of my family’s life. That made me happy.

Mike quickly taught me something about fire that I had never thought about before. I asked him one night after he was on scene at a structure fire (not actively participating as he was still not an official member) if he was nervous or scared. He told me that he wasn’t as much nervous or scared as he was respectful. If he let himself be scared he probably wouldn’t be able to do it. He explained that as long as he had a respect for the fire and knew more about the fire than it knew about itself, he’d be ok. It was like playing a game of chess. You had to anticipate what your opponents’ next move would be. This philosophy held true with fire. By learning what fire does, how fire acts and reacts, he could anticipate what it would do and like any good chess player, he thought four moves ahead of where he actually was. He started explaining to me how different materials react differently when they are burning and how different types of fires require different methods to extinguish them. I knew after this conversation that firefighting was going to be a way of life for my hubby-to-be. Mike embraced this new-found world and I couldn’t have been more proud.

To say that I was proud 100% of the time would be a lie. There were definitely times I wish Dad would have kept his big mouth shut that night and never asked Mike to go with him. Over the next few years (even after we were married) the fire department was the center of some very heated arguments between the two of us. I used to go ballistic. I knew he loved it and I knew that he had lots he had to learn, but I also knew I wasn’t fond of the copious amount of time he was spending just hanging around at the fire station. Why would he have to be there for 4 hours *after* the monthly meeting or training was over? Dad would have been home for hours and Mike was still gone. What could he possibly be doing? Talking and having a beer(s) with the guys. Oh, ok then, I’ll just sit here while you’re out having a grand ol’ time with the boys. I just didn’t get it. I didn’t get that Mike had been (these are his words - not mine) a loner for most of his life and now he was introduced to a group of people he enjoyed having something in common with. He was doing something that he did very little of as he was growing up - just hanging out, being part of a group. I didn’t get that for a long, long time. I know that was most of it and yes, another part of it too was it was an infatuation to an extent, and I’d be again lying if I said I didn’t hope that the novelty of this all wore off very soon. Fortunately and unfortunately I still don’t think the novelty has worn off. Let me explain - I have to jump around a bit here and bring us up to present day, but bear with me.

As the years passed and Mike became more experienced with firefighting, he quickly realized this was more than a passion. This was a desire, this was a dream, this was a career. Being a firefighter was something he wanted to dedicate his life to - so he set the wheels in motion. As a former radio announcer (more on this later) and a 5-year member of the fire service, Mike decided to apply for a job as a 911 dispatcher. He knew this would be a job he would love and it would get his foot in the door with the municipality. When job postings would come up for “paid” firefighters, he would be able to apply as an inside worker. After months of testing and security clearances and police checks he was hired on as a casual 911 operator. The money wasn’t bad, but the lack of benefits and the irregularity of being called for work was discouraging.

Over the next five years he worked hard at 911, learned a lot more about the fire service and police service and became a top-notch dispatcher. When he had police or fire out on a call, the guys out in the field never had to worry about misinformation or lack of communication. It was that whole game of chess thing again. Mike was always 4 steps ahead of the game. He was very well respected by his coworkers and made quite a name for himself in the field of emergency service’s communication.

At the same time he continued to grow with the volunteer fire department. He worked his way through years of training and many many fires to find himself named Firefighter of the Year only 2 years after he joined the department. Over the next couple of years he was promoted to Lieutenant and was assigned as co-training officer. He also stepped up and became the department’s secretary finding himself learning another side of the service. Now he was instrumental in the behind-the-scenes running of the department.

Unfortunately, there were some internal problems that saw the chain of command undergo a restructuring. The morale of the firefighters had fallen completely off the radar and something had to be done to get the department back to the respectful community organization it once was. During the course of the restructuring, hubby was promoted to Captain and a group of men on a mission set out to turn their fire department around. It took a couple of years and a lot of hard work and dedication and many many hours away from home but the end results was once again a group of committed volunteers who made the community (and their families) very proud.

Eventually, the opportunity arose for Mike to apply for a position as a full-time firefighter. He had to go through various tests (physical and written) along with an extensive interview process. In September of 2000, Mike’s dreams of making firefighting his career came true. He was elated and our families were thrilled. It had been a long, hard number of years financially (you find out why later) and now we just might be able to see the light at the end of the tunnel.

So to say that Michael devotes himself 100% to the fire service is an understatement. He goes “to work” and fights fires and he is still a member of our communities volunteer department. It’s a 24/7 passion - and it has to be a passion for a commitment like that.

*************************************************************************************************

Since the horrors that unfolded on September 11, 2001, the world of firefighting has been seen in a different light. Something that my family and I have known and respected our entire life was now being talked about by people all over our globe. These men and woman who leave their families and their homes to serve and protect other people’s families, homes and livelihoods have been called “Heroes”, although you would never hear them refer to themselves in this way.

The next time you hear a siren or see a fire truck going down the road, take an instant to think, to appreciate and to respect what these people are doing. And please, think about the families of these firefighters who are sitting at home, hoping and praying that their loved-ones will return home to them - safely.

Until next time…

Good grief! Where do I start with this one?

I wondered very early on why Mike lived with his mother and grandmother, but I didn’t want to ask. I didn’t know if his Mom and Dad were divorced, if his Dad died, or what the story was. I knew that he was an only child (more on this later…) but I had no idea of the circumstances surrounding it.

My life has been very sheltered in some ways. I came from a family with a Mom and a Dad and I had a sister. Mostly every one of my friends growing up (actually, all my friends growing up) came from the same type of family, give or take a brother, sister, or both.

I was very uneducated with the whole concept of only children and single parents. I found it very fascinating yet sad all at the same time. More and more Mike had been teaching me so much about life, about love and about myself. Our relationship was moving to deeper and deeper levels all the time. I quickly learned that I could ask him anything. No holds barred. The question couldn’t be too personal and he wouldn’t stop until he was satisfied that I understood or I had no follow-up questions to ask. We talked a lot - about everything; topics so obscure you could never imagine. He was so smart, so well-spoken, so compassionate, so funny, so unique.

I can’t even remember how the topic of his Dad came up. Did I mention it, did he, or did his mother? I have no idea. I do know that I can never remember being so sad, but yet so proud all at the same time as I sat and listened to Mikey’s story.

His Mom and Dad were never married. The first thing that crossed my mind was that his Mom was raped. Thankfully, this was not the case. She had been dating his father for a while and she became pregnant. His father told her that he didn’t love her but he would marry her “just to give the baby a proper name”. Needless to say, they didn’t marry and Mike’s Mom had no problem with giving him her last name and didn’t need a husband in order to have a “properly named” child. I learned later that she never wanted a husband, but she did always want a child. She may have dated a few times after Michael was born, but never seriously and she never married. She had all that she ever wanted in life. A child.

Being an unwed mother back in the late 60’s was definitely not looked upon favorably. She lost her job when she became pregnant and many members of her family attempted to shun her. This was short-lived, however. Soon after Michael was born she got a job at another hospital, doing the same work and stayed there until the day she retired 4 years ago. Her family rallied around her and Michael was raised in a loving home with nothing but support. Mike’s Mom continued to live with her mother until the day she died in 1996. When she returned to work after giving birth to Mike it was his grandmother that was there with him day in and day out as his mother worked. Mike’s grandfather was killed overseas in WW II even before his mother was born. It had always been “Nannie” as the head of the household. She raised Mike’s Mom and Aunt and now she was instrumental with the raising of her grandson.

Mike’s Mom didn’t receive any help from his Dad (who lived a mere 10 minutes away from Mike his entire life). His father, I believe attempted to take his Mom to court to “get” Mike, but nothing ever came of it. She raised him, without any help from his father from day one. His father’s family was another story. They all acknowledged Mike as part of the family and his father’s parents’ hearts broke that their son would not take responsibility for their grandson. His dad had several brothers and sisters who all viewed Mike as their nephew and Mike’s Mom was determined to allow Mike to get to know his father’s family as best she could.

Mike knew of the situation between his Mom and Dad from a very early age. His Mom had nothing to hide and Mike was brought up to know the circumstances between the two of them in no way reflected on him. He had nothing to do with it and he was no less of a person because he didn’t have a father in his life. He was surrounded by the people who loved him, and that made him the boy he was.

His father wasn’t completely out of his life. He could be seen on several occasions parked close by in his car watching Michael play outside in the yard. Understandably, this would be quite unnerving for Mike’s mother and grandmother. But in their opinion, this allowed him to see what a wonderful boy he was missing out on as a son. They constantly instilled in Michael that his father was the one missing out - not Mike.

When Mike became a young man he found out that he has two siblings - a half brother and a half sister. His brother is 2 years older than him and he has a sister two WEEKS younger than him. He had no idea who they are but he does know that growing up, they lived in the general area. He was always nervous to ask a girl from his school out on a date if he didn’t know her parents were her biological parents. Could you imagine asking a girl out on a date, falling in love and wanting to marry only to find out she is your sister? It was a chance he was never willing to take. To this day he has no idea who they are, if they are still around the area or if they know about him (all three of them have different mothers but the same father).

Over the years, as Mike grew so did his chance meetings with his father. Being totally, blatantly ignored became second nature to him. He would see his father in the mall only to be disregarded. I can’t imagine how that must have felt. His father did eventually marry and Mike had the chance to meet his wife at his grandfather’s funeral. Like I said, Michael remained close to his father’s family throughout the course of his life, so it was no surprise that he was present during his grandfather’s wake and funeral. Mike and his cousin alternated standing at the head of his grandfather’s coffin throughout the viewing and at one point his father’s wife asked who this young man was. She had no idea Michael existed. She came over and spoke to Mike, introduced herself and appeared eager to get to know him.

It was shortly after this that Mike and I started dating. Just after we became engaged I was involved in a pageant which involved three evenings of various competitions which were taking place at a local hotel. During the times that I was competing Mike would wait for me downstairs in the lounge. Imagine the surprise he received one evening at seeing his father enter the lounge. Mike struggled with what to do. He decided to go up and say hello. Upon doing so his father looked at him and said, “What do you want? You’re nothing but a bast***.” Without as much as drawing a breath, Mike responded. “If I’m a bast***, that’s nobody’s doing but your own. Have a great evening!”

I was floored. I couldn’t believe this man could be so low, so inhumane, so mean. I was crushed for Mike, but I was so proud of him at the same time. I couldn’t imagine my worst enemy saying that to me, let alone my own father. I have no idea what gave Michael the strength to say what he said back to his father that night, but after that something seemed to change.

I worked at a local mall and every so often I would see Mike’s father and his wife walking up and down the mall. She knew who I was and would always stop to speak. At first, “Daddy-dearest” just kept walking. I was able to get to know his wife somewhat and enjoyed speaking with her. She was a very nice lady and told me that she tried on several occasions to get Mike’s father to attempt a relationship with his son. She wanted to know all about our wedding plans and was so excited that we were being married. Eventually, when I would see them in the mall, he would stop and speak with me. Nothing very taxing, just pleasantries. I almost felt guilty talking to him. Why would he talk to me? I was nothing to him. Yes, I was marrying his son, but shouldn’t it be his son that he was speaking to? I didn’t want to be rude and axe any chance that someday the two of them might have a meaningful conversation, so I tried as best I could to get to know this man who would soon be my “father-in-law”.

There ended up being a few times that Mike would be around while they were at the mall. They could say hello to each other and exchange comments about the weather and work and small things like that. Was this a start?

Mike’s Mom had a wedding shower for me and of course, Mike’s grandmother, Aunts and cousins were all invited. His father’s wife got wind of the situation and I believe she called Mike’s Mom and asked if it would be alright if she attended. I was asked what I thought and truly I didn’t care. I wouldn’t have “invited” her, but if she called and asked if she could attend, who am I to say no? It was nice to see her there with the other members of Mike’s family. Was she trying to undo some of the wrong done by Mike’s father? Who knows. She certainly didn’t have any obligation to Michael whatsoever, but she was part of the family and Michael, his Mom, their family and I would do her no injustice. She would be treated as family and it was obvious that she was trying more than she had to to form some type of relationship with us.

Then it was time to make the decision that we had all been thinking about but no one had really verbalized to this point: do we give this man an invitation to the wedding? A man who missed out on first steps, first dates, high school dances, graduation and so so much more during the course of Mike’s life. Do we really want to invite him to the most important day of Mike’s life? His wedding day? We talked and talked and talked. We asked Mike’s Mom for her opinion and asked my parents for their’s. Ultimately it was our decision , and more specifically it was Mike’s decision. I would do whatever would make Mike happiest. It didn’t matter to me either way. I had my views and I made them known. I didn’t think that Mike’s father deserved to be there - for any reason. Why would we include him on this day - of all days, when he couldn’t be bothered spending any other day with him since the day he was born? Michael felt the same way. There was not a wedding invitation addressed to the Father of the Groom.

Did not being invited to the wedding stop Mike’s father from attending? How did their relationship progress, or did it? There is still so much to tell.

Until next time…

**Disclaimer - I am in no way attempting to favour one religion over the other in this piece. I am simply stating what happened in my situation with the religions my husband and I follow. These views are mine, and mine alone relating to my experiences only.**

With everything zipping along at warp speed and time going much too quickly we decided we better take care of the details for the actual ceremony. I knew basically what I wanted - a typical church wedding. The music, the readings, the vows. It all seemed pretty straight-forward. Well, it wasn’t - far from it. Nothing’s ever easy for us. Everything has to have it’s share of issues.

Like I said in my previous entry, I am Catholic and Mike is Baptist. We talked at great lengths about this between the two of us and decided that it really wasn’t a big deal. He had his beliefs, I had mine and we were willing to accept the differences and learn about the other’s church. I attended Sunday Services with Mike and his family and he attended Mass with me and my family. We learned that the differences between the two were not that huge and Mike was able to answer any questions that I had. One thing I realized was that he knew much more about his religion and The Bible than I knew about mine. His church studied The Bible much more in-depth than we did (or at least that I was exposed to). He could also tell me why some things were the way they were in my church yet the opposite in his. More and more I’m seeing what an intelligent man I’m marrying. (I often call him my Warehouse of Useless Information..lol)

Mike took for granted that we would be married in my church and was quite happy with that. Getting married in the Catholic church to a non-Catholic proved to be easier said than done, however. We met with the Priest and he started explaining everything to us. Mike would be required to sign a Form of Dispensation which stated that he would not stand in my way of raising our children in the Catholic faith. In our opinion, this was nothing more than a “technicality” because we had already discussed that while any future children would be baptized Catholic they would be exposed to both religions and taught that one was not superior to the other. When they were grown they would have the necessary knowledge to choose which, if any, they wanted to practice. So we got over that hurdle relatively pain-free.

Next we started talking about the wedding ceremony and through the course of the conversation the Priest referred to it a few times as a “service” and not a “mass”. I caught this but just assumed he was talking generally instead of specifically. When we were giving him the names of the people who would be involved in the ceremony he neglected to ask who would be presenting the offertory gifts, so of course, I brought it up stating that we had forgotten someone. When he asked who and I told him, he looked at me like I had just committed the biggest sin in the world. His words will echo in my head until the day I die. “You are marrying outside your faith - there will be no mass. A service, that’s it.” Pardon me?? No mass?? Why not?? I was floored. He stated that the Catholic church does not include a mass in a wedding ceremony when the couple are of different religions. I told him that made no sense to me whatsoever. The difference between getting married in the Catholic church as opposed to Mike’s church was that we could celebrate the mass with the marriage. That’s what makes the Catholic church different. We have communion, we have the mass at each “service”. He was not changing his mind. He does not celebrate mass. Oh, okay, so the tune just changed. HE was not changing HIS mind. I asked if this was a law enforced by the Vatican and he said no, it was up to the discretion of the individual priests. Hhhhmmm…here comes the debater in me.

We sat there for the next little while and talked quite civilly and I had the opportunity to express my concerns and ask some questions. If Mike and I were married in his church would our marriage be recognized by the Catholic church? No. If Mike and I were married at a court house would our marriage be recognized by the Catholic church? Of course not. If Mike and I are married in the Catholic church, our marriage will be recognized in the church even though it is mixed? Of course. What makes the Catholic religion different than any other religion? There is a mass celebrated each time the congregation gathers. How interesting. But I was not being “allowed” to celebrate the Sacrament of the Eucharist when I was receiving the Sacrament of Marriage because my future husband was not Catholic. What then, would differentiate my marriage in the Catholic church from my marriage in Mike’s church, the court house or the back yard of my family home? You would only recognize it if I was married in my church, but you are not permitting me to have the Sacrament that makes my church different from his. If I am not having a mass I should be permitted to get married wherever I want and still have it recognized by my church. It is my church saying that I cannot have a mass, but also saying that in order to have my marriage recognized I cannot get married anywhere else other than my church. Make sense?? I’ll leave that for you to decide, because it certainly didn’t make sense to me.

By the end of our conversation my head was throbbing and I was absolutely disgusted. However, because of the “evident passion” I had about having a mass during my wedding, my priest had decided to incorporate the mass into the ceremony. His biggest concern was that during communion one half of the church would stand to receive the Host and one side would remain seated. Why that was a concern of his, I’m not sure, but Michael quickly dispelled his concern stating that his father’s side of the family was Catholic, so there would be just as many if not more on his side receiving communion as not. (You GO, Mikey!!)

I learned later (much later) that I was put to this “test” of sorts by my priest to see how serious I was about my faith and my religion. Well, first of all faith and religion are two different things in my book, and number two who was this man to “test” me to see how strong my connection to my church was? It was a good thing I was already married when I found this out and that that priest was no longer serving in my parish because I don’t think it would have been a nice scene. … I digress…

At the time all I knew was that I was having a mass and I stood-up for something that I believed in and it made all the difference in the world and that felt good. I was on top of the world.

Next we had to tackle a Pre-Marriage course which is compulsory for all Catholics who will be married, and of course, my Baptist Mikey had to attend. Again, we just went through the motions. We would go sit and listen to information about this and that and the other thing (I’m not even going there) and smiled and nodded when we were supposed to and basically put in our time. That was until we got on the topic of divorce one night. The priest who was instructing the course presented us with some amazing statistics. Did you know that 50% of mixed marriages end in divorce within the first five years?? Hold the bus a second. Where did that come from? Up goes my hand. Could you present to us the percentage of Catholic marriages that end in divorce? The Catholic church does not believe in divorce. Oh, so that would then lead me assume that you are implying that 0% of Catholic marriages end in divorce? No. So the statistics would be? Roughly the same if not a little higher. And would the divorce rate of 50% amongst the mixed marriages be that high based on the one fact alone that they were united in a mixed marriage? Was it the difference of religion that caused all these marriages to collapse? I was told that I was off track of the topic at hand and what did this have to do with what we were discussing. I pointed out that I felt he was making a generalization and chastising mixed-marriage couples. I proposed that the difference of religion was probably one of the last items that contributed to the marriage failing.

I concluded by stating I was highly offended that this course was suggesting that because I was entering into a mixed marriage that we had a 50% chance of being divorced within 5 years of becoming married. I thought my church was supposed to be there to support and encourage the union of man and wife and not talk about divorce statistics before we even made it to the altar (considering the Catholic church does not condone divorce). I received a round of applause from the other participants in the course and things were then quickly wrapped up for the night. I was not amused. Why is my church making it so difficult for me to be married to the man I love?

Once the course was over, we were pretty much home-free as far as all the church requirements went. We could get back to planning, to being excited and to enjoying our engagement.

The next big question we had to answer involved Michael’s father. Would he receive an invitation to the wedding?

Until next time….

What the hell was I doing???? I told a guy whom I had been dating for 2 and a half months that I would marry him!! Was I insane? Was I on the rebound? Was I trying to make the hurt go away? Wait a second - I was happy. Wasn’t I? I had more emotions (good and bad) than I could shake a stick at. Where were we going to live? How were we going to survive? I was in university and only worked part time at a store in the mall making minimum wage. Mike had a full-time job at the radio station, but would that be enough?

I had to put all of this on the back burner for a while. I was getting ready to do a work placement for my course and I had to focus on that. I love radio and speaking and wanted to get my placement at the radio station. I knew a lot of the people who worked there and I knew I would learn a lot from them. It was settled. I did up all the appropriate paperwork and I was starting my work term. I was over the moon with excitement!

I learned quickly and began to get the swing of things. I was working in the music library, which was really interesting. There was so much to absorb, it was great! Everyone was really friendly and helped me in any way they could. Wellll, almost everyone. Remember - “the other fella” (Mike’s dark, ominous music can be inserted here!) worked there too. That proved to be interesting. He would tell everyone who would listen that the only reason I was marrying Mike was to get back at him and that we would never last. He ignored me at best and made me feel like a stupid moron while I was there. If I had to go into the control room while he was on shift it was quite awkward, but I remained as professional as I could. The people in the station saw that and didn’t seem to pay too much attention to his going’s-on. Thankfully.

My last day was a Friday and I just happened to be sitting in the control room when the Program Director walked in looking for the guy who was working to work the following day operating a remote. He was unable to work. I piped up that I could do it. He looked at me like I had 3 heads. I had been around the station long enough and I am nosey enough to keep an eye on what’s going on that I really felt I could produce a remote broadcast. He hesitantly considered it. I went behind the board for the next 3 hours to become familiar with the hand’s-on of everything and he was very pleased. I went on the payroll the next morning and quickly became a top-notch operator. Mike was instrumental in helping me learn the ropes. On nights that he wasn’t working, we would go into the station and he would take me into one of the production studios. He would put me through the paces and try to teach me everything I needed to know. He was very patient with me and I was thrilled that I was working (albeit casual) at a job that I truly loved.

Again, a few weeks later they were in a bind. They needed someone to fill an on-air shift for a Saturday and Sunday evening. I darn near fell on the floor when they called me and asked me if I was interested. Interested????? This is what I was going to university for. Speech Communications. I love talking and I’m pretty darn good at it.

Over the next little while I worked more shifts than I could count. It was a great place to be. Mike and I even ended up working some of the same shifts. It was fun but we always kept it professional at work. We both worked too hard to get where we were and I was not about to jeopardize that for either one of us.

During all this Mike and I continued to work together and grow as a couple. We started planning our wedding. My favorite colour at the time was purple(GAG), so that was an easy one. We decided on August 24 as our date but quickly had to change that when we found out that our DJ was booked (he was quite flattered that we changed our date so we could have him play..lol). He worked with us at the radio station and played the most fantastic dances we had ever been to. Consulting with him (and his schedule), we decided on August 10. Then it was a matter of picking our bridal party, flowers, cake, invitations, supper, decorations…I was loving it!! Mike wanted to just go and elope. ~~ (Just kidding!)~~ I’m a girlie-girl, I can’t help it. I have sat and dreamed of what my wedding would be like. I wanted it all, nothing over the top or real flashy, that’s not me, but I did want to have my fairy-tale wedding.

One day I was at my cousin’s house and we had started talking about “the dress”. Good grief, I hadn’t even thought about that, yet. We spent a lot of time with my cousin and his wife in the early days of our relationship and were always very close with them. They had been married 3 years previously. Imagine my surprise when my cousin’s wife came out of her bedroom this day holding her wedding gown. “Here, try it on. Just to have an idea of sizes.” I did and not one of us had to say a word. It fit like a glove. I had just found my wedding dress. How thrilled was I? And the funny thing is, I’m about 6″ taller than her. The dress looked completely different on me. I tried on her headpiece (a hat and veil), which again fit perfectly but looked nothing like what it did on her. What a big load off my mind this was.

One thing we did decide from the get-go which made life a whole lot easier on everyone concerned was if we can’t afford to pay for it in cash, we don’t have it. Period. We started putting money aside out of each pay and began to pick things up here and there as we could afford to buy them. I wanted the nice silver-frosted wine glasses for our head table - you know, the TACKY ones with “Bride”, “Groom”, “Maid of Honour”, “Best Man”…blah blah blah on them. I’d pick one up a pay and started my “wedding stuff” collection. We ordered our invitations early and we received them one day in February, during a humungous snowstorm. I had them all sorted, addressed and ready to go by the time I went to bed that night.

We had decided from the beginning that we weren’t having a supper - we just couldn’t afford it and we did not want to start off our marriage in debt. We’d have some nibblies (is that a word, Ann???LOL) during the reception and pick up a few trays of things to have at the house. There’s no need for a supper, right? Apparently not. The parents had issues with that. There was no way we could expect people to come home from away to attend our wedding and not at least give them a meal. What would they think? Well, number one, we didn’t expect anyone to come from home or away. We’d be happy if they did, but certainly didn’t “expect” it. Number two, I wasn’t worried about what they would think. Would they be worried about how we were going to pay for it after they were gone home? ~~ Anyway, during a very civil conversation with my parents and Mike’s Mom and grandmother we told them that we planned on paying for this wedding ourselves and we just could not afford to put on a supper for 200 of our nearest and dearest family members and friends. If they felt as though a supper was “expected” they would have to pay for it, otherwise, we were not having a supper. We ended up having a supper (sigh).

As the time approached I was very pleased with how little we argued. Mike was so easy going. His biggest issue was that he was NOT wearing a tuxedo. He wanted to wear a morning jacket with an ascot. A what with a what????? My thoughts quickly conjured up an image of red jogging pants, a lumberjack plaid shirt, a 10 day growth of beard (at least), sideburns half-way down his face, coke bottle glasses and hair that looked like it should have been cut months ago. My “sideburn-boy” wanted to wear a morning jacket and an ascot??? Whatever floats your boat, Mikey - go for it. Once that was decided on, he left pretty much everything else to me. He just wanted to know where he had to be and when (this line grew old verrryyy quickly..lol!)

Our families started getting into “marriage-mode” as well. Bridal showers (yes, showerS - I had 3) were being planned, my sister picked out my china pattern(I’m having a china pattern??), and Dad and Mike started construction of our apartment (in the basement of my parent’s home - ~GULP~!) Time was moving along quicker than I would like, but everything was falling into place.

There are a few other things you need to know about before we actually make it to the altar to say our vows - if we make it to the “altar” at all, for starters. Plus there are a few other items to fill you in on (where is Mike’s Dad, and how is Mike going to cope with moving from his town and joining my family and community).

Perhaps I’ll start off writing about how we dealt with the whole issue of a mixed marriage. I’m Catholic and Mike’s Baptist. It gets interesting here, don’t go anywhere just yet.

Until next time…

I’d like to start off by thanking Mike for so graciously adding to my Blog. I have to tell you, he sent his entry to me at work one morning and I was in stitches reading it. I had to be careful not to laugh too loud…lol.

After the evening of his Mom’s birthday party we were together every day and every night. We had lots of fun and lots of very serious talks. It was as if we had known each other our entire lives. We were best friends, we were soul mates. He made me feel special and started to teach me so much about the person that I thought was gone forever. There were still times however; that I would hide behind my walls thinking that everything he was doing or saying had an ulterior motive. It was hard for me to accept that someone would be kind to me just because. I wasn’t used to that in my previous relationship and at times I found it hard to let him get close to me. I didn’t want to be hurt again. I couldn’t be hurt again. But was I pushing him away with my apprehensions? At times I felt that yes, I was and I almost thought that I wanted to push him away. I was scared everything. He was so patient and so caring during all of this. I don’t know too many people who would have put up with all my foolishness the way he did. To be quite honest, I was pretty nasty and even though it was a defence mechanism, it wasn’t right. I’d pick fights just for the sake of fighting and try to do whatever I could to stop him (and perhaps even myself) from getting too deep into the relationship. Mike read me like a book. He knew what I was going though and he made it very clear that he wasn’t going anywhere. He was my protector and he watched over me and kept me safe.

Two and a half months after we started dating (I think it was June 27, if memory serves me correctly) we arrived at his house to pick up his mother. We were going to a wake later in the day for a cousin of his who had passed away. The phone was ringing in the kitchen and he answered it and suddenly started acting very strange. He was almost talking in code. Once he hung up the phone he said he had to go out for a few minutes. I asked him where and he didn’t want to tell me. Now you have to understand - there is no one on the face of this earth any nosier than me. Nothing doing, I had to know where he was going. He told me he had to run up to the mall so I was going too. He tried to get me to stay home with his mother, but once again, there was no way. His mom decided she wanted to come too, so off we went. Once we arrived at the mall his Mom headed for one of the shops and wanted me to go with her. Nope. No way. I was going with Mike. He was just up to something and I wanted to know what it was. After he grumbled something under his breath he agreed to let me tag along and I found myself standing in the middle of the jewellery store. I was just looking around letting him do his thing as he told me he had applied for a credit card from the store a while ago back. I worked my way over to the counter just as the lady was handing him a small box. (*GULP*) He opened it up, looked at me and said, “You were so anxious to see what I was doing. Here, have a look.” Inside the tiny box was a ring - and I didn’t think it was just any ‘ol ring. There were sparkling diamonds on that ring. I looked at him and said, “I think I better go find your mother”, turned around and got out of that store as fast as I could. I was stunned, shocked, excited, and scared to death all at the same time. I found his mother, said nothing to her and stood in the corridor waiting for Mike. We drove home in silence. There were millions of thoughts going through my head, not the least of which was that we had only been together for two and a half months. How could he possibly think we were ready to be together forever? I know, I know, he said he was going to marry me someday. That’s all well and good to say it but to actually mean it and want it to happen now totally threw me for a loop.

Once we arrived home he took me into the living room and told me to sit down. We talked again for the longest time and he told me exactly what I meant to him and where he wanted this relationship to go. He wasn’t blinded by infatuation nor was he taking this lightly, he just knew in his heart that we were meant to be together forever. I’m glad someone knew, because I sure didn’t. I knew I thought I loved him, or at least that I was starting to love him, but how can I make a decision like this after only being together with him for not even three months? I was still so scared. I wanted to love him with all my heart. I knew deep deep down inside me that yes, he was the man I wanted to be with for the rest of my life, but how could I get my head and my heart together on this one? “Never second-guess yourself,” he told me, “go with your heart”. I told him that I was scared he would break my heart and he promised me he would never do that. That could be a hard promise to keep. I knew I had to stop living in the past and learn to trust again. He had given me no reason thus far not to trust him, not to love him and not to want to spend the rest of my life with him. I cried and I cried and I cried. I knew right then and there that yes, this was right. Michael was the man for me. He was my Knight in Shining Armour. He was the man I wanted to call my husband. As he was kneeling in front of me, holding my hand I decided that my walls had to come down because if they didn’t I was going to lose the best thing that ever happened to me. He told me that this wasn’t quite the way he had wanted to ask me to be his wife, but it seemed as good a time as any other. Looking in his eyes I saw nothing but love. Of course I wanted to be his wife! With that, he took the small box out of his pocket, opened it and placed on my finger the most beautiful ring I had ever seen. I was so happy. All my fears and all my insecurities were gone in that instant. Could this really be it? Is it possible that I had really found the man for me? My heart told me yes, my head told me yes and the look in his eyes told me yes. The sound of our laughter echoed through the house and it wasn’t long before his Mom and grandmother joined us and shared in our happiness.

Shortly after it was time for us do go to the funeral home. I waited in the car as the 3 of them went in to pay their respects. While they were inside another relative of Mike’s (whom I hadn’t met to this point) jumped in the car with me and started carrying on with me. He was a super funny guy and I knew from that second that he and I would become good pals. After they came out of the funeral home, we dropped his Mom and grandmother off at home and headed to my place. I had to go home and tell my Mom and Dad that we were going to be married.

When we arrived, Mom and Dad weren’t home, but my sister was. She was ecstatic! Mike and her clicked from day one (as he did with my entire family). He was the big brother she never had. She would join us on many of our outings and we always had lots of fun when she tagged along. Sitting there waiting for Mom and Dad to arrive home was one of the most nerve-wracking times of my life. They were visiting neighbours up the road and it was close to three hours later when they decided to return home. We were in the rec room of our basement and asked them to join us. I can remember that Dad came down and sprawled out on the couch making himself quite comfortable. Mike started talking to both of them and told them how much he cared for me. He then asked for their permission to marry their daughter. Even though they were shocked, they were thrilled beyond words. We hugged, we cried and we laughed. They were so happy for us and wished us nothing but the best. Their biggest concern was that I finish my education and Mike assured them that we had no intention of me not finishing university.

The next few days were filled with excitement and joy. We decided that we would be married the following summer and started planning immediately. Even though we were still meeting members of each other’s families, everyone was thrilled that we were engaged and it was a summer I will never forget.

A year doesn’t take very long to go by. How did we survive the wedding preparations and the months and weeks leading up to our big day?

Until next time…