The bridesmaids wore black

But we didn’t know someone would die at the rehearsal dinner.

We arrived in good spirits after dressing up for the occasion. My mom told me that grandpa said as far as he was concerned this dinner was the main event of the weekend.

My cousin Bell would soon be marrying Mark in the cathedral where she was raised—her childhood dream. We sported our slippers since shoes weren’t allowed on the hardwood floors of the rustic yet immaculate lodge/bed & breakfast. I said hello to people I hadn’t seen in months, including my grandpa.

With him in a wheelchair with one eye and one hand and limited hearing, it makes it harder to keep in touch. The last time we’d talked was Sept . 9, Grandparent’s Day. I called to tell him I love and appreciate him. You never know when the last time you’ll speak with someone will be.

Seventy people filled the Elkhorn Lodge for the rehearsal dinner Friday night. We sat at white linen-covered tables overlooking the big blue Montana sky and prominent mountains.
We came to celebrate love and new beginnings. Filet mignon and halibut graced our plates; champagne filled glasses clinking to toast the just-about married couple.

And then he choked.
I didn’t know what was going on with my grandpa at the next table until they wheeled him aside and started performing the Heimlich. Then they wheeled him past me, his head slumped over, face turning purple.
The priest stood up and said a prayer, said they’d called 911.

But it was too late. There was nothing any of the medical professionals in the room could have done.
They laid him down by the buffet line behind the fireplace. And we couldn’t believe this was happening. Why here? Why now?

The cousins huddled, held each other, and cried.
My mom, grandpa Herb’s only surviving child, cried too. But her hope rose above the chaos and confusion. She reminded us this happened for a reason. When else would we all be together at one time?
And what a blessing to die quickly rather than fight slow, painful illness. He is in a better place now with no more suffering. We even laughed a little that no one would be forgetting this event.

People stood up and gave tribute to Herb and talked about the “greatest generation.” Others proclaimed a new generation—Mark and Bell will make history of their own. Grandpa Herb’s legacy of love and service remains in each of us as we go forward.

We celebrated love and new beginnings. A couple to be joined together forever and a war-weary soul ready for eternal glory.

Grandpa Herb would have turned 90 on Oct. 8, 2007. We will celebrate him with a memorial on that weekend. Click here to read his obituary.