When I woke up the morning of The Big Day, I came upstairs to find a couple of my groomsmen laying on the living room floor of my parents house, groaning in early-morning hangover agony. They deserved their pain, and I laughed accordingly.

Mom made us a big breakfast, and then it was time to don the tuxes and pose for some pics.

A good family friend took a few pre-wedding pictures of all us guys. We struck dramatic poses with shotguns and with dad’s old ‘56 Dodge car, which we then drove into the church.

The Sacred Heart Parish Catholic Church is the same old church that has seen four generations of Paré weddings. It was a strange feeling, waiting with my groomsmen in the back room of that old church — it was the same room I used to go to for Sunday school when I was a kid.

I had been calm and collected in the days leading up to the big moment, but with just minutes to go, my stomach was in knots about everything that was about to happen.

When we stepped out and took our positions at the front of the church, I scanned the hundreds of familiar faces in the crowd. It seemed like everyone I’d ever met was there watching.

My parents gave me a reassuring wink, which helped settle my nerves. Mom, surprisingly, wasn’t crying yet.

Suddenly the music started, and when they opened the back doors Amanda stepped into the church. It was a surreal moment, watching my future wife walk down the aisle toward me, and it took considerable effort to keep my emotions in check.

She, on the other hand, seemed perfectly in control.

Father Joe, the soft-spoken Filipino priest, gave a very entertaining sermon and the hour-long ceremony passed in an instant. With happy tears in our eyes, we said our vows, smooched, and left the church hand-in-hand as Mr. and Mrs. Paré.

There’s that weird feeling again...

From there, it was back to the farm for a few thousand more photos. Some good friends transported the entire 12-person wedding party in their fabulous new motorhome — which I regrettably tracked mud into. Sorry Morris!

Once the pics were snapped, it was back into town for the banquet. We rolled up in style in the giant motorhome, then entered the banquet hall to the strains of ACDC’s ‘Are You Ready?’

We did the usual speeches and thank-yous, our friends told embarrassing stories, and the crowd continually clinked their classes to make Amanda and I kiss, even when our mouths were full of supper.

After that, the bar opened, the band took the stage and one wild party broke out. The whole evening was an enjoyable blur of dancing, hugging and hand-shaking, and around 1 a.m. Amanda and I made a stealthy exit.

There was a near catastrophe at the hotel in Wainwright when we were told our honeymoon suite had mistakenly been given to someone else, but the problem was resolved and it all worked out fine.

And that’s as far as this story goes...

Amanda says it was the day she’s always dreamed of, and that’s good enough for me.

Related stories:

• Part 1: Returning to Red Deer a married man