Tears, shvitz and a forgotten mazal tov

It was bloody hot.

Our youngest son Jake married the beautiful Bibi at the Botanical Gardens, Melbourne. In the middle of summer. Thirty-seven degrees in the shade. I cried, I shvitzed and my heart was bursting.

However, it wasn’t completely what I expected as “mother of the groom” (MOG), even though I was not a novice in this role. Our lead-up events, the day’s challenges, uplifting moments and associated emotions created an experience I will never forget.

I asked Chat GPT (my new best friend) what is expected of a MOG at a Jewish wedding. Not much, it seems. A little help with the planning, host a Shabbat dinner before the big day, walk your son down the aisle, stand under the chuppah and wish him mazal tov after he steps on the glass. Some of you know by now that I don’t like to do things by halves. “Fine” is never enough. So I embraced the challenge with arms wide open; I was going to be the best MOG I could be.

The aufruf (call-up) was at our shul in Sydney. The night before, we hosted the bride’s (Melbourne) family at our place for Shabbat dinner. It was perfect: 24 of us around the table, three generations and a veritable feast, proudly cooking many of my Monday Morning Cooking Club favourites. It set the scene for Saturday morning in shul, which was exceptional.

Surrounded by family and friends, balancing baskets of kosher lollies on our laps, we watched our “baby of the family” stand on the bimah, flanked by Danny (Dad) and Matthew (future father-in-law). The bride’s mum Sharona is Jewish; her dad is Irish Catholic. It warmed my heart that Matthew was embraced by the shul, and it warmed my heart even more that he was happy to be embraced by the shul.