Day 79: Family, the best legacy we can leave

 

Several months ago, my niece Emma rang me with a request.

“Would you be the officiant at my upcoming wedding?”

At the time, I was in the throes of a migraine. Truth be told, she could have asked me to referee a sumo wrestling match in Tokyo and I would have agreed—anything to get her off the phone so I could crawl back into bed.

The next morning, with the migraine fog finally lifted, panic set in.
“What on earth have I agreed to?” I thought. I rang her back to explain the obvious—“Emma, I’m not a celebrant. I can’t marry you!”

She calmly reassured me. “Oh, you don’t need to be. Florin and I are already married.”

Of course! Emma and Florin had tied the knot over two years ago. But back then, there had been no ceremony, no family, no friends, no craic. Now, they were planning to mark the moment properly, and my role would be more of an MC than a legal officiant.

“Why me?” I asked.

Emma paused, then replied: “Noeleen,  you’re a primary school teacher… and a drama queen. You’ll be perfect.”

Perfect might have been pushing it, but for these two wonderful people, I was ready to give it my best shot.

Emma, being the organised, no-nonsense woman she is, wrote a beautiful ceremony—and asked me to add a few personal touches. My one big idea was to welcome Florin’s family in their own language. So Florin became my Romanian tutor. Honestly, it felt like I was preparing to host the Eurovision.

The days before the big event were filled with all sorts of appointments—dressmaker, spray tan, hair, makeup. And that was just me! I’ve no idea what the bride had to endure.

We all descended on the Hyde Hotel in Galway, not quite sure what to expect. We all know exactly what happens at a typical Irish church wedding, but this was uncharted territory.

I checked the room beforehand—it was magical. I set out my bits and bobs, waiting for the guests to arrive, nerves steadily rising. 

My main concern was giving Emma and Florin the day they truly deserved.

Then the music started, and Finian walked his beautiful daughter down the aisle.

 The ceremony was everything we’d hoped for. It must have been emotional—my sister Geraldine cried so much she lost her false eyelashes!

And then… I could relax.

What followed was a night of food, drink, laughter, music, and dancing. My memories are slightly hazy—not from migraine this time, but perhaps from something a little more… fermented.

I do distinctly recall a dance-off—Romanian traditional dancers versus the Siege of Ennis—which somehow morphed into a Riverdance collaboration. Then there was the conga line: a glow stick-waving procession out of the function room, around the residence bar. Ah, teenage years revisited.

As I think back on the day and night, one thought stands out: how lucky I am to have the family I have. I once told someone that our family has never fallen out. They didn’t believe me.

Now, I’m not saying we didn’t beat the heads off each other as children—but as adults, we’ve been nothing but close. Seeing all my nieces and nephews singing and dancing together last night, and then watching my grandniece and grandnephew instantly bond with their London cousin, I felt so proud.

We’ve passed down something far more valuable than possessions—we’ve passed down the importance of family. And that, to me, is the greatest legacy of all.