My almost brother Raoul

You're probably wondering how I got invited to this wedding at the ends of the earth. It's a long story.

In 1980, during my last bohemian youth trip before returning to my studies, I had the opportunity to work at the Aquitaine Cooperative Association, where we were using traditional timber framing. I was Raoul's apprentice, a '68er who was putting into practice the utopia of that wave that swept away the dust of old France.

We spent all day together and evenings going from bar to restaurant, developing a close bond that lasted over the years. He regularly came to Quebec with and without his family, and I returned the favor. I watched his three sons grow up and developed a friendship with Edith, his wife.

He was my best friend, almost a brother to me, since neither of us had one. We could spend endless hours talking about anything and everything, with or without alcohol. Sometimes we raised our voices—he was more left-leaning than I was—but more often, deep laughter would erupt, born of a deep, unspoken understanding. I speak in the past tense because Raoul left us six years ago, taken by a painful cancer. I visited him regularly to be with him during his treatments and was invited to be a pallbearer alongside his three sons.

I've stayed close to the family despite the distance. In retirement, I visit every year. It's become like a second family to me. I've become Uncle Daniel, with whom I share our love for Raoul, who, so imposing and ever-present, insists on coming back to keep us company here and there. For about ten years now, his son Raphaël has lived here with a woman from Réunion: Raphaëlle! They've decided to formalize their union in Réunion.