An alternate place, a different time

I tell myself a story in which the people who profess to love me 

bother showing up 

in which love does not need to be complicated 

or messy as they’ve mucked it up to be 

I tell myself a story in which a celebration is only a celebration 

in which a wedding is only joy 

no bitter mixed in 

I tell myself a story where the cast of characters all show up for their assigned roles 

it is my younger brothers walking up ahead of me down the aisle 

my mother tearing up in the second row 

my grandma pretending to lecture my new wife about treating me right  

wagging finger-pointed (just to take the traditional staged wedding photo everyone in my family  has) 

my dad making a speech after dinner and pausing to hide how choked up he is 

I imagine a story where they all attended 

each of them part of the shining day 

I tell myself a story of how it should have been 

and in the story I don’t even feel reality pressing into the pages 

I live between sheafs of paper bound in leather 

dream a happier dream of a wedding that wasn’t 

they cannot reach me here between the covers 

reality was beautiful 

day filled with love 

intention 

community 

other family and friends filled roles that might have been filled  

by my parents 

brothers 

grandma 

someone who I still believed was my best friend 

other names took their places 

still I wonder 

what might have been 

if tradition and dogma 

ingrained prejudices  

homophobia masquerading as Catholic teaching 

were not so deep-set 

stubborn stain on their conscience  

if their love for me had been louder than their need to hate the sin

Perhaps I would not tell myself a story of an alternate place 

different time 

another possible world 

made warmer with the presence of family

love written between each line

when reality left empty spaces