Father of the Bride is undoubtedly the best gig to have on wedding day: all pride and no pressure. August 1 of this year was one of the two proudest days of my life, as I walked Daughter A down the aisle at Old North Church (of "one if by land, two if by sea" fame) in Boston.  The other proudest day was when I did the same with Daughter B in Vermont, back in October, 2013.

Prouder than my own wedding... births of the girls... graduations... starting TurfNet*? Yes. I'll explain in a bit.

One of the privileges of the Father of the Bride (along with writing large checks) is the opportunity to welcome the guests and toast the new couple at dinner during the reception.  I warned them that giving me a microphone would be like dancing with the devil, as I'm prone to pontification... but they knew that.

Among my ramblings I mentioned that this type of event gives one pause to reflect and review the defining moments of one's life to that point. High points for me were obviously my own wedding and the births of our daughters. The low points were, well, learning experiences.

Our own wedding was fun, although a long time ago. This was better because it involved a larger sphere of people, those of one's own creation. It was in many ways the culmination of years of leading, guiding, advising and molding.

I went on to mention that Patty (my wife of almost 38 years) and I didn't have any biological sons but now have two due to the wonderful institution of marriage.  And it can be wonderful if one has chosen well.

On the other hand, I can see how it could be less than wonderful if due diligence has not been done... but I didn't dwell on that.

I finished up by stating very truthfully and unabashedly that I am very proud of the adults Colleen (A) and Erin (B) have become and the husbands (HDA and HDB) they have chosen, and that I love them all. All true and from the heart. I don't say things like that casually.

"Sweet Child O' Mine", indeed... for the Father/Daughter dance.

Weddings aren't singular events any more; they're weekend-long mini-marathons, from Friday night receptions for out-of-town guests to Sunday brunch. This particular weekend was magical. Couldn't have been better. Well worth whatever the cost.

I was on cloud nine for most of the next week, basking in the afterglow.  I had this incredible feeling of satisfaction, of a parenting job well done.  And there's nothing more important, because your children are your legacies in life.  Nobody remembers your job or money you might have made. Your kids endure, along with small differences you might have made in the lives of others along the way.

So we packed up the dogs and hightailed it up to our summer place in the Canadian Maritimes a month or so later than normal, post-wedding, ready for some R&R. A week into it we got a call that Patty's mother (almost 93) had a mini-stroke. This came after breaking her hip back in February and launching herself through the rehab process because the one thing, the only thing she still wanted out of life, was to go to Colleen's wedding, which she did (her first stay in a hotel since she got married in 1942, for real).

Oh, great, I thought, the wedding is over and Nanny's going to check out two weeks later. I anticipated the spousal directive that we should go back to NJ to care for her, but it didn't come. Patty has spent a month there earlier in the year and that was enough. Let her brothers handle it.

Then a week after that the bombshell arrived via email. DB and HDB were splitting up, victims of the proverbial "irreconcilable differences" that were completely unbeknownst to us (and we live eight miles away and see them all the time).  Apparently due diligence had not been completely done.

Well pop my bubble. Kick me in the Jimmy. That's exactly what it felt like.

We dropped everything, packed the dogs up again and headed back to Vermont to see if we could mediate, advise or offer any guidance. Nope, done deal. Over. Kaput. Fini.  A few days later they signed the papers so back north we went, tails somewhat between our legs, the euphoria of three weeks earlier replaced by a surreal melancholy that still hangs over us.

Quite a month.  Quite a year.

I guess the lesson to be learned here is to enjoy the hell out of the high points because one never knows what's around the corner.  DB will be fine eventually, and kudos to her for waiting until after the wedding so to not spoil the event for her sister. They are good kids, and I'm still proud of them. All four of them...

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Addendum: I thought of some additional "lessons" that might be of value to someone.

1. What you see in a person is pretty much what you get. You can't change someone's character or personality very much... and you certainly can't "fix" them.
2. Don't say "f-u" to someone with whom you have stood at the altar (so to speak). It's not good form.
3. Don't throw or break things.  When given the option (and there's always an option), take the high road.
4. If help is earnestly and honestly offered, avail yourself of it. At least listen and then judge its merit. Some people have been around the block a few more times than you.
5. Vow, n. a solemn promise, pledge, or personal commitment. These should not be undertaken casually, as they should map out at least one part of the rest of your life.

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* Prouder than starting and fostering TurfNet to success?  Well, that didn't happen in a day, so it doesn't qualify... but still, yes.