Last weekend was a bit of a rollercoaster ride for me with one really big high and one crushing low. My sister, Desearee, used FaceTime to show off her latest and best piece of jewelry on Saturday — an engagement ring. I knew it was coming because my dad had told me just hours before that my sister’s now-fiancé, Jason, had called to ask for her hand in marriage. It was supposed to be a secret, but I think my dad was just excited.
Although I knew it was coming, it didn’t really sink in until I saw that smile on her face and how truly happy she was. Out of my five siblings, she is who I’m closest to considering we were closest in age and experienced high school and college around the same time. She literally got her nursing degree from LSU one day before I got mine from Southern Miss.
Even before hearing about the phone call, I knew it wouldn’t be too far off since she had mentioned getting married in 2019 in previous conversations. She had told me I would be in the wedding, so I had assumed that meant I’d be a groomsman despite not knowing Jason all too well.
Little did I know that she had never intended that at all. Instead she asked me to officiate her wedding. Now I know what some of you are thinking: The guy who wrote about not attending church is going to get ordained to officiate a wedding. Why yes, yes I am. In fact, I already have.
It’s really quite simple. You can just go online, fill out some information and voila! All I have left to do is get in contact with the county clerk where she will be getting married in Florida and validate my ordainment to get the marriage license. An exact location hasn’t been pinpointed yet as far as I know, but that should happen soon.
Not only will I be officiating my big sister’s wedding, but I will be taking their engagement photos as well next month at City Park in New Orleans. It goes without saying that I am beyond touched and honored that she wants me to be such a big part of her wedding festivities. Though I know I’m probably just the simple choice to take the engagement photos because I won’t charge them, but still it all really is an honor.
However, Sunday morning proved that such joy and happiness can be fleeting. I was awoken by a phone call that one of my friends had passed. It hit me like a ton of bricks. He wasn’t one of my best friends, per se, but we shared certain things that went past the bonds of friendship.
Nearly a decade ago he and I were in a very bad car accident together. One that neither of us had any business walking away from.
We were actually taken to the hospital in the same ambulance, side by side, and that 10-minute ride felt like hours and will stick with me for as long as I live. He was concussed and ended up needing more than 40 staples in his head. Due to his concussion, it was like he would come to the realization of what was going on every 15 to 20 seconds, and he asked the same question every single time: “Are my friends OK?”
In that moment while he was fighting for his life, he had no concern about himself. All he wanted to know was if we were OK. I tried to reassure him every time he asked, but he kept forgetting what was going on. Thinking about that ambulance ride these past five days and the compassion he showed in the darkest of hours has continually shaken me to my very core just as it did back then.
While we ended up going to different colleges — he went to Louisiana-Lafayette — we joined the same fraternity. He rushed his freshman year, though, and I decided to wait until my sophomore year. I ran into him about a week after my initiation and gave him a handshake that let him know we were now fraternity brothers. The look on his face was priceless and one I will never forget. Phi phi, brother.
Going from that high Saturday evening to that low Sunday morning reminded me just how precious joyous moments are. They may not always be evident to us at that instant, but once you’re able to comprehend how valuable of a occasion you experienced is, I encourage you to cherish it. Breathe it in. Soak it up. Do whatever it is you need to do because you have no idea when you will be struck by something that can drop you to your knees. n
Joshua Campbell is sports editor of The Columbian-Progress. Reach him via email at joshua campbell@columbianprogress.com or call (601) 736-2611.
