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Canada doesn’t really have that certificate.” “Did you check with the Canadian embassy in Rome? They say they have nothing to do with this.” “Mmmh…I actually have no idea then.” The lady at the Italian embassy in Delhi wasn’t able to help. Our wedding was just like us: Unique, unconventional, and a little all over the place. Four months from the day and nothing was confirmed. Nothing’s ready.” I called him in a panic as soon as he woke up, in Canada. We had even received our certificate from the church after a two-day intensive course instructing us on how to start a good Catholic family. No idea.” I’d reply as the class burst in laughter. I got mad at him — now that we could be together he was off to Africa or China or wherever, prey to a wanderlust I failed to understand. We finally found a place that worked and bought new furniture. My pain was enormous, kept alive and stinging by a succession of small new wounds.

But then, when I tried to reach him the day he was meant to go see about our documents, I couldn’t get through to him. He was not online — which he almost obsessively always was. And Other Lessons Learned Too Late.” Follow her @Ayun Halliday.n the night of December 17, 1991, Kim Dadou’s boyfriend, Darnell Sanders, drove up to her mother’s house.

It appeared we were in a bureaucratic loophole and none of the puzzled officials I contacted were able to figure our situation out. We were back on our early-days routine of long-distance phone calls. I had worked so hard to get past his infidelities that I had actually forgotten about them — the truth, of the past and the present, felt heavy on my burning sternum. There was something in him, something in his voice I could not recognize. She was understanding, forgiving, and helpful — knowing far too well what I was going through, she repeated to me countless times I had not lost someone worth keeping.

For the first time in our many goodbyes, I hadn’t cried when he left. Whether it was some sort of sixth sense or just my constant fear of the worst, I started to worry. Years later, that’s what I told his wife, when it was she who wrote to me.

His funny accent on the few Italian words he knew would lighten up the darkest rooms of my soul. Getting married is the best idea we’ve ever had and we’re going to do it. We had been living together for a couple of years in India — where I had followed him looking to start a career, and finally be with the man I loved — when he proposed. People did notice: the excitement about our engagement was so genuine and overwhelming, everyone pointing to what a romantic story we had.