Rebecca Blithe: Two weddings and a funeral - all the life lost in lockdown

I know we are just one of the many Kiwi families whose lives have been sidelined because of Covid and lockdowns. Photo / Supplied

OPINION:

I tried to get married this year. It was March, I was at my hen do and our great night out at The French Cafe was brought to a sobering halt by the announcement of a press conference. I stepped out of the dining room, hands shaking, to watch as Jacinda Ardern declared New Zealand was going into a seven-day lockdown.

It meant my wedding in a few days couldn't go ahead. My heart sank. My friends cried. Someone ordered me a whisky. Even the previously austere waiter broke character to say with a sigh, "This is f***ed".

When I called my husband-to-be to break the news he thought it was a hen party prank.

It wasn't.

The next morning, bleary-eyed and still wearing my decaying flower crown from the night before, we cancelled our March 5 wedding. We were disappointed, angry at the idiocy of "Case M" going to the gym but accepting and confident we'd still have a wonderful wedding – maybe even with family and friends from overseas able to attend by the time our new January 2022 date rolled around.

But a lot of life and, as it turns out, death, can happen in 10 months.

My mum was diagnosed with breast cancer in June and will have her final round of chemotherapy two weeks before our new wedding date. Her previous plans to bustle about setting up our venue and hosting friends will be exchanged for a quiet attendance and careful monitoring.

And two weeks ago, my partner's father lost his battle with cancer. A couple of months prior we'd had the call to say things weren't looking great and booked flights to see him in September. We had to cancel those flights because of Covid.

When we did eventually make it to see him, he was barely coherent. He was able to put a thumb to his rattling chest to tell us he was a "tough old bugger" and that "you can't fool me" about the quality of Christchurch Hospital's custard. And our 1-year-old son, his only grandson, was able to put his chubby little hand in his grandfather's one last time.

Although grateful we could be there at all, my partner will always mourn that lost opportunity to have a final moment with his dad when he was of sound mind. And as he reads the wedding speech his dad penned for us, he'll wish things could have been different.

As we approach January 8, a date we thought would see New Zealand well clear of Covid-interruptions, we face further decisions about what our wedding day might look like - including the awkward discussion around uninviting the un-vaccinated. After waiting all those extra months, we've decided we want to get married on that date, no matter the levels and restrictions, so we can be husband and wife. So the people who are here and well can celebrate, even in Zoom form – and so I can still fit my pretty pricey dress before we plan to have another baby - something else we've put on hold because of Covid.

But we live in a different city to our families and a little wedding with all the restrictions that may be enforced puts plenty of special moments in jeopardy: will my dad be able to walk me down the aisle? Will my grandparents, in their mid-80s, get to attend the first wedding of their grandchildren? Will my mother-in-law get to see her son standing at the altar, and hear him speak about how much she means to him, how grateful he is to her for everything? Because when else, except for a funeral, do you make a speech about that sort of thing? Sure, we can live stream our wedding and some of these things can be experienced, but it's not the same. It's just not.

I know we are just one of the many Kiwi families whose lives have been sidelined because of Covid and lockdowns. Our story is by no means unique. And so many have endured far greater tragedies and missed opportunities than we have.

If there's anything this time has taught us, it's to make the most of a chance to celebrate with family and those we love. We understand that we have to make concessions for the greater good so that, in future, someone else will get to spend time with their dad before he dies. Someone else will get to dance up a storm and get a bit boozed with their mum at their wedding reception. And someone else will get to have the wedding they always dreamed of - with everyone they love right there with them.