Eloping in the Time of Pandemic

As some of you may recall, I rung in the new year with plans to take a break from the blog for many reasons – to prepare for a move and for our upcoming wedding and to get back to writing my novel. But oh how none of us could have expected what this year would bring. 

My mother has always said that whatever happens on New Year’s Day forecasts the year to come. I should have known when I came down with the flu on New Year’s Eve that it was a harbinger for things to be a little different than I had planned. Not long after I fully recovered, our lives would change in ways we could never have imagined. 

We were to be married at a destination wedding on March 20th of this year, and just two weeks before the wedding my father decided that he and my mother would not make the trip due to the emerging covid pandemic. At the time, I thought he was overreacting; I had no idea it would grow into what it has become today. My father has always had impeccable foresight, and despite being disappointed and still a bit incredulous about the seriousness of covid, we decided to postpone the wedding until fall simply because I couldn’t imagine a wedding in which my father would not walk me down the aisle. 

As it turned out, our decision was more timely than we realized, as both my fiancé (now husband) and I came down with covid mere days after we postponed the wedding. Once again it took more than six weeks to recover, only this time the illness was unlike anything either of us had ever experienced. Our symptoms were hallmarked by continuous fevers and waves of fatigue. The fatigue would hit suddenly and powerfully. One minute felt as if we were on the mend, and then it washed over us, the feeling I can only best describe as our very life force slipping away. As dramatic as it sounds, that is the only way I can think of to describe it.

Because my husband has a history of pneumonia, his lungs were less resilient to the virus than mine. There was one particular day that hit the hardest; we were just on the verge of heading to the hospital. I recall sitting on the balcony while he napped, and all I could do was cry and pray. It was one of those singular moments where you become acutely aware of the fragility of life. My love for him crystallized into a new form, and yet it felt tenuous, as if he were slipping through my fingers like grains of sand.

For me, this defining moment, and the entire experience of recovering from the virus together, in turns taking care of one another when the other was hit by fatigue, this entire experience cemented something in us that would ultimately determine a very difficult decision which I will come to later.

At the beginning of the year, before all of this came into play, we had already decided we would move out of our apartment at our lease’s end. We had looked at a nearby condo that we fell in love with on sight. Fortunately, we were almost fully recovered in early May when it was time to move. I was generally restored enough to organize the move and to even once again find joy through decorating our space and creating our new home. 

So it was mid May. I had recovered from both the flu and covid, we had moved into our new condo, and we had postponed our wedding. Not even five months into this year, and so much had changed. Meanwhile, the pandemic was only getting worse day to day. I can’t remember the exact day, but one morning I woke up and decided I didn’t want to wait any longer to get married. What came to me was the memory of sitting on the balcony while he napped, that singular moment. 

We discussed it with each other and discussed it with my parents. My parents are high risk and have been quarantined since March; my father admitted he could not see a time in the near future, maybe even within a year, that it would be safe for he and my mother to attend our wedding. As I noted above, this recognition brought us to an extremely difficult decision. We decided to elope. It was both the best and most heartbreaking decision I have ever made. The thought of not having my father there to walk me down the aisle while my mother looked on – this still aches inside of me. And yet the day we eloped at the lovely and historic Swan House was one of the best days of our lives. We could not have imagined a more perfect wedding. 

Despite days of rain and impending thunderstorms, we woke on June 29th to a gloriously sunny day. Despite having thrown together this small elopement in less than six weeks, everything came together as planned. There are certain things I will always remember – the sweet smell of peonies in my bouquet, the slant of sunlight that blessed us all morning long, the look on my husband’s face when he first saw me, the perfect pairing of champagne and fresh lemon cake enjoyed in a light breeze, the wonderfully exhausted feeling of collapsing into our hotel room after the day we had planned in one form or another had finally been realized. 

We are married. And in the midst of these uncertain times, that is a reassuring thing to say. Despite all we missed by eloping, we wouldn’t change it for the world. We hope when all this passes, when we no longer need to remember our masks and hand soap when we leave the house, when we no longer have to worry about vulnerable loved ones being susceptible to this notorious and fatal virus, we will join together with family and friends to celebrate our union. It may not be until our first anniversary, but the day will come. And in the meantime we can take comfort in knowing we have one another during what has proven to be the most uniquely disquieting time of our lives.

All photos by Hannah Forsberg