Moments to savour

ALWAYS the bridesmaid, never the bride I surely know how that feels. This weekend I had two consecutive weddings - my friend Roslyn followed by my brother Christopher. Roslyn's wedding was on the Friday, down at Seamill, and the weather was glorious. The hotel is a lovely setting and the bride was gorgeous. I felt partly responsible for the big day because I had introduced them on a night out. The groom, Kevin, runs a very successful record label in Glasgow.

It never fails to amaze me that after all the arrangements, the planning, the tears and the fights, every wedding works out perfectly. My brother's was a case in point. He and Susan, the bride, organised the whole event themselves. Their choice of venue, Celtic Park, was designed to underline their shared love of football. That's right - my lucky brother has scored himself a wife who will not shout at him for having a few jars after the game. Instead, she will shout at him for not getting the beers in.

To get warmed up, my mum, dad, ex-partner Pauline and I went to Chris's place for a calming glass of champagne. The flat was already full of friends, including the best man. I just could not believe how cool and laid-back Chris was. He was my brother alright, but he was stepping out of the shadows, becoming his own man. I had nothing to offer him except a smile and the feeling that I was losing him in some way.

In contrast to Roslyn's beautiful big day, the weather for Chris's wedding was overcast and rainy. The (mis)behaviour of the dressed-up infants, however, more than made up for the weather. Oblivious to the sanctity of the service, they tore around the chapel, shouting and laughing as the priest bravely tried to administer the vows.

Having felt foolishly sentimental at Roslyn and Kevin's wedding, I had a huge lump in my throat when it came to my own brother. I thought of past times we had shared. One time, when I was about ten, my uncle had left his car at our house. We were having some building work done and there was cement, sand and mortar lying around. At that time there were a lot of burglaries in the area so Chris and I took it upon ourselves to improve the security of my uncle's car. We mixed the ingredients to make concrete then we covered all the locks of the car, followed by the door handles. Job done, we decided to have a concrete fight. By the time my parents saw us, Chris and I could hardly move. For me, that problem was resolved quickly enough. I am sure I can still see the imprint of my father's hand on my backside.

I remember other times when Chris followed my lead, trusting his big brother implicitly. Thankfully, as he grew older, he could decide for himself what was normal behaviour and what was sheer nonsense.

Listening to his speech, describing how he met Susan, how the romance turned to love, was special. No matter how many weddings you go to, a man telling a crowd how much he loves a woman is a special thing.

When I first heard that I had cancer, I knew this was one of the things that was being taken away from me. Not wanting to admit to myself that this was the case, I entered into a relationship with a loving, caring, beautiful girl. Pauline was with me at Chris's wedding, even though she has a new friend now. I didn't want to go with anyone else and I also needed the support.

Emotionally, I was all over the place. My mum, being her usual telepathic self, came over to check I was okay. Pauline had left early, so I had the traditional dance with my mum.

It reminded me that at the previous night's wedding, I was dancing with an Irish girl called Helena who works at the BBC. I am a rubbish dancer and stood all over her feet. She was an expert Irish dancer but despite her skill, my lead-footedness meant we were the couple everyone tried to avoid.

I lasted both the nights well, but at Chris's wedding I was happy to sit at the back and watch everyone enjoy themselves. He was leaving for his honeymoon the next day and in the confusion at the end of the night, I didn't get the chance to tell him how proud I was.

With cancer you always look back, back to the good times. Now Chris and Susan, along with Kevin and Roslyn, will have their own stories to make. And I hope there are plenty of them u You can email Jonathan at Deadherald@aol.com

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