When we started planning the wedding, Bruce begged to carry the rings.
“Mom would’ve wanted me to,” he said, chin up, very serious.
I cried in the bathroom afterward. It felt like a way to honor Judy’s memory on our wedding day.
On the wedding morning, though, Bruce was strange.
Bruce begged to carry the rings.
He was quiet, which Bruce never is.
He kept pressing one hand against the inside of his tiny suit jacket. When my cousin reached for the ring box, he yanked it away.
“I’ve got it,” he said.
I figured he was nervous. Or sad.
Weddings are hard when someone is missing from the front row.
When my cousin reached for the ring box, he yanked it away.
Then I reached the altar, and the officiant smiled down at him.
“Bruce, may we have the rings?”
Bruce didn’t move.
“Sweetheart?” I whispered.