I never imagined I would have to choose between my son and one of my parents
It was awful being forced to uninvite friends I have had all my life to our wedding, writes Eavan Murray
INEVER imagined I would have to choose between my son or one of my parents. It was something I never considered possible. On Sunday night, the prospect of cancelling my wedding for a second time or going ahead with just six people became a chilling reality.
We are getting married in just over four weeks, on November 6, having first cancelled in June.
I am almost embarrassed to admit Robert and I had plans to invite close to 300 people to the wedding.
Getting married in your late 30s and coming from rural communities means you know a lot of people.
And it means you have been to a lot of weddings.
And even now I can honestly say all of the 300 people we hoped could share our day included our extended families, close friends, and neighbours – people we care deeply for.
Cancelling our June wedding back in March was upsetting, but it was OK.
What can you do? We initially thought we would go again in August, but to be on the safe side, to be absolutely sure we would have some space to celebrate with those we love, we decided to wait until November.
Then as the reality of the current situation hit home, and the likely restrictions that would be imposed on us, we had it in our minds to hold off again until next year.
But our situation is slightly more complicated.
My beautiful Mam isn’t well at the moment and she is determined to enjoy our wedding. She feels we should get on with it and she is right.
So our guest list was painfully hacked to just 50. The reality of that means we had to accept we couldn’t invite our closest friends, aunts, uncles, and cousins.
It was truly awful having to uninvite friends I’ve had all my life. We were left with a sickening dread every time we even thought about it.
It’s definitely not the feeling you associate with planning a wedding.
But at the weekend we went to the hotel, we met our wedding planner, we chose the menu and we ironed out all the details like music and decorations.
Travelling home on Sunday, for the first time in a while, we felt excited.
I was sitting opposite Mammy on the couch that night, running through our menu and discussing the table plan when a news alert flashed up on my phone – the country could be headed to a Level 5 lockdown. Five!
“But Mayo is only on Level 2,” I cried.
I frantically googled what that meant for us, and it, in short, meant a choice between our parents or our son, Bobby. Six people. One priest or celebrant, the couple, two witnesses and one more.
We sat in disbelief. We weren’t even upset; we were stunned.
Fast forward to Monday afternoon, and the restrictions have moved to Level 3 which means we can now have 25 people at our big day.
We are hugely grateful for this, but more difficult choices lie ahead.
I can’t invite my bridesmaids.
Even more painfully, our nephews and nieces won’t be there either.
In my immediate family, including my brothers, their wives, and children, there are 19 of us.
In Robert’s family, there are 10.
I honestly don’t know how to broach this. What is the best thing to do?
When I heard we aren’t restricted to six people, the relief was huge, but now I’m left with a nagging sense of guilt.
We have endless respect for Dr Tony Holohan, Dr Ronan Glynn and all who work with the National Public Health Emergency Team.
Are we making their job more difficult by complaining? Are we adding to the problem? Are we selfish by going ahead with the wedding at all?
I am acutely aware of the threat posed by Covid-19.
I am forever indebted to our health service. Were it not for them, we would have lost our beautiful Mam many years ago.
If I’m honest, I feel sad and guilty that by going ahead with our wedding, we are in direct conflict with what Nphet has advised.
That is most definitely not what we wanted.
It enrages me when people call into question their advice and, worse, their motivation.
They are trying to protect us and safeguard our health service. That is all.
So we are in a strange Catch-22 situation. If we wait it out, we may be left with having to make that same painful choice between the people we love most in the world. And we could have regrets.
We’ve been engaged for ages, but we waited until we saved money, and Bobby was a bit older. I’m quietly furious with myself for doing this. But such is life. And life is a gift.
Living through a pandemic should make us all realise that.
We sat in disbelief. We weren’t even upset; we were stunned