Saturday was simply one of the most perfect days of my life. The setting was amazing; the OBE Chapel in the crypt of St Pauls, surrounded by the tombs of William Blake, Wren, Nelson and Wellington gave the ceremony a feeling that was indescribable. And the great thing was, the setting wasn’t the most memorable part of it.
To see my son Mark’s face when he saw his wife walk down the aisle (where moments before he looked like he was about to be sick), was a heart-stopping moment, because he looked how I feel when I’m about to do something difficult and Bex walks in. I guess because she makes me feel that together we can do anything, when I saw Mark and Tara look at each other the same way, I felt safe for them too. And I know that’s my projection, and I don’t care.
And so many other things: The bond between Mark and his brother Stuart (who was best man) and his half-brother Glen, was a beautiful thing to behold. The moment with my ex-wife Karen, her partner Mark, Bex and myself when we toasted the good job we’ve done raising fine boys, was precious, and watching Stu give the best Best Man’s speech I’ve ever heard was truly spooky, because we always look for bits of us in what our children do, but sometimes you see emerge from them something that isn’t simply an inherited trait, or a mix of stuff from their parents, it’s something uniquely their own, and his delivery had a charisma that came from nowhere else and no one else.
And watching Mr and Mrs Mark Silvester set off for their honeymoon the next morning glowing with happiness, with all of the hopes and dreams that attend that moment in young lives, left me so profoundly grateful for everything I have in my life, and everything that has got me to this point of it, that I had to sit alone for a while to compose myself. So much of the good in life springs from the love of the people you share it with; and I’m truly blessed.
But Bex was a bit mean laughing for a full half of a hymn, just because of my singing. Inside I’m Bobby Brown.