You feel the dead at the wedding. Imagine two families, like two oceans, crashing together from dubious ancestries. From the first “I do,” will you be two or one person? The most I can do, if you’ll indulge me, is tell you what I think about: Look at the figures on the wedding cake. Imagine them trading roles, faces. When they speak, their parents’ voices inhabit them like a nightmare. Even the beautiful, the newly inspired, find that the only way through rough seas is to cling together, which is dangerous, which hurts. You may feel there is no safe bottom holding, no release over top, no soft chair inside. You know it can be divine. You’ll know when you close your eyes.