As we gathered at the church in her honor, I cried some tears of loss, but more than that, I wept, shaken and anchored by the strength of the people I married into. Embarrassingly, this was not how I felt during my first few years of marriage. At first, I felt smothered by the closeness and the openness of my new family because though I’d shown up prepared to be part of a new family using all the skills that had enabled me to participate with my family of origin, I ultimately was carrying the wrong toolbag for a new situation.

Given my characteristically ungraceful approach, it obviously wasn’t long before I felt like everyone was out get me which explains volumes more about me than it does about them. While my in-laws worked to get through to me, I was busy shutting them out. Over they years they waited me out and then, given the loveliness of the scenery beyond, I myself eventually waltzed across enemy lines, realizing I was the only one that showed up armed in the first place.

As we walked into that chapel filled with so many of Ben’s family (many not actually related to Marie in any way, but instead attending in steadfast solidarity) my stomach flipped over- the way it does when that budding crush spins into full on love. Though I’m not like them, and though I’ll be here forever feebly mimicking the incredible belonging I’ve been offered, I can’t stop thinking about how head over heels crazy I am about these people.

The celebration of Marie’s life was a sharp reminder that life is short and unpredictable and that all we’ve got is right now and each other. I can’t fathom why it didn’t occur to me right from the beginning to let it go, all those fair false friends: suspicion and mistrust, the “tall bigger really’s” of thinking I knew everything. If only I hadn’t held on so long trying to keep my distance, I might have had more of those moments like the one in the chapel and the hours later that evening crowded in the living room with photo albums and memories. These days full of hugs and tears and some incredible laughs might have been mine years ago, but that regret too must be let go.

So comes love.