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On Saturday, I went to Pennsylvania to attend an anniversary party.

I realize I'm backtracking right now, but it just sort of happened this way. Sorry.

The party was for my great aunt and uncle, who were celebrating their fiftieth wedding anniversary. Aunt D was my mother's mother's sister, or my maternal grandmother's baby sister. (Aunt D was an aunt before she was even born!) Her children and grandchildren make up the bulk of who I know on my mother's side of the family: three sons and their wives, and a total of five grandchildren.

I found a dress hiding in the back of my closet. It was a frumpy, dowdy affair that still had shoulderpads stuck in it. After clipping out the shoulder pads, the dress hung funny. It couldn't be helped. I drove myself to my parents' house in my bare feet, since I can't drive in heels.

I really can't walk in heels, either. "You look like Klinger from MASH walking in heels," said my mother helpfully.

Thanks, mom.

This was the first time I've been to Erie to see my relatives since I got engaged. Of course, I got grilled. They wanted dates, details, descriptions. I suffered through it as best I could, ducking away whenever possible.

"Oh," said one of my mother's cousins. "You're marrying a Canadian, I hear? Well! We live in Florida, and six months out of the year there are Canadians all over the place. And let me tell you, those Canadians are the nicest people, aren't they George?"

And George nodded, winked at me and said, "Eh?"

The best part of the party, though, was looking at all the old things from the wedding. They had their photos, and Aunt D's dress, and her veil, and her prayer book, and the original cake top, and Uncle D's tie and boutonniere. When I looked at the photos very carefully, I saw a ghost.

My grandmother died when I was eleven. I remember her fairly well. (I particularly remember the day she had her stroke, although I no longer blame myself for what happened... Or the horror that followed.) Min and KidSis don't remember her very much. KidSis only has very vague recollections of her.

In the faded black and white wedding photos, my grandmother's youthful face looked back at me. Her features had blurred only a little over time, and I could clearly see her in the face of Aunt D's matron of honor.

In the years that followed since her death, Aunt D has taken the place of grandmother for my sisters and I. My paternal grandmother died when I was still a toddler, and Grandma passed away over fourteen years ago. Aunt D stepped into that void and filled it admirably. I still get cards from her on Christmas and my birthday, cards with a check in them to "get a little something" for myself. She's very interested in everything that we do. She has followed my sisters and I through our lives, watching as we grow, and graduate...

And get married.