the most difficult walk anyone ever had to make.
In every way, a walk to remember.
The nurse had rolled the wheelchair up front as Jamie and her father made their way toward me. When she finally reached my side, there were gasps of joy and everyone spontaneously began to clap. The nurse rolled the wheelchair into position, and Jamie sat down again, spent. With a smile I lowered myself to my knees so that I would be level with her. My father then did the same. Hegbert, after kissing Jamie on the cheek, retrieved his Bible in order to begin the ceremony. All Business now, he seemed to have abandoned his role as Jamie’s father to something more distant, where he could keep his emotions in check. Yet I could see him struggling as he stood before us. He perched his glasses on his nose and opened the Bible, then looked at Jamie and me. Hegbert towered over us, and I could tell that he hadn’t anticipated our being so much lower. For a moment he stood before us, almost confused, then surprisingly decided to kneel as well. Jamie smiled and reached for his free hand, then reached for mine, linking us together.
Hegbert began the ceremony in the traditional way, then read the passage in the Bible that Jamie had once pointed out to me. Knowing how weak she was, I thought he would have us recite the vows right away, but once more Hegbert surprised me. He looked at Jamie and me, then out to the congregation, then back to us again, as if searching for the right words.
He cleared his throat, and his voice rose so that everyone could hear it. This is what he said:
“As a father, I’m supposed to give away my daughter, but I’m not sure that I’m able to do this.”
The congregation went silent, and Hegbert nodded at me, willing me to be patient. Jamie squeezed my hand in support.
“I can no more give Jamie away than I can give away my heart. But what I can do is to let another share in the joy that she has always given me. May God’s blessings be with you both.”