The Truth

Right after we got engaged, I moved to Boston for a three-month clinical affiliation.  Though my patients made fun of me for saying "y'all," I felt right at home.  My family is from New England, even though they moved to the South before having me.  Though I've spent most of my life below the Mason-Dixon line, I've been fortunate enough to visit Massachusetts dozens of times.  You see, there's this little beach town on the South Shore where my family has been summering for four generations...pretty much since we've been in this country.  I grew up playing on that beach, fishing off of the North Atlantic rocks, and taking ferry rides into town for a Sox game.  I have lots of extended family who still live in Boston and the surrounding area and every time I see them, it's like revisiting years of wonderful vacations.

My mom has a cousin who lives with her husband in Cambridge, and they were generous enough to let me stay with them during my clinical affiliation.  Their apartment was walking distance to my hospital, and there were about three Dunkin D's along the way.  A temporary transplant couldn't ask for anything more.  Cambridge cousin's sister and her husband live in Arlington, and they were generous enough to let my car live there for those three months.  This made day trips to the Cape possible.  Both of these cousins have an incredible mother, my Great Aunt Dotty.  Dotty is my grandfather's sister and she is one of the most interesting people I've ever known.  Her 85th birthday party happened to fall during my stay in Boston, so I was able to celebrate it with her and the rest of my New England family.

Personal photo: With the birthday girl

Earlier this summer, we found out that Dotty had been diagnosed with Stage 4 lung cancer, just as her brother had been over a decade ago.  Her oncologist had given her months to live.  I was shocked at how sudden the onset had been, and I was worried about my mom's cousins who had been so wonderful to me so recently.  Dotty decided not to hang on for too long.  She passed away within two weeks, and I took solace in the fact that she was reunited with her brother.

My mom's cousins decided that with family scattered all over the country, it would be silly to have a memorial service with a reunion (our wedding) right around the corner.  I was approached and asked if I was okay with sharing my wedding weekend with Dotty's memory.  Was it okay to have a belated memorial service that same weekend?  In my mind, I was deeply offended.  How could I share MY weekend with a funeral?  If the funeral was before the wedding, people would be sad at my wedding.  If the funeral was after my wedding, people would be sad in anticipation of the upcoming funeral.  I didn't want to share my wedding weekend with sadness!

What's funny though, is that when I opened my mouth to express my concerns about this idea, none of those concerns came out.  I simply said, "I would be honored to share our wedding weekend with Dotty's memory.  I can't wait to celebrate her life with my family, and I look forward to raising a glass to her."  And I meant it.  The truth came out, regardless of what I was thinking.  I really am looking forward to toasting her memory that day.

Have you ever had the truth come out when you least expected it to?