Aunt of the Groom Speech: Toast Your Nephew, Welcome His Bride

Hello everyone, I’m Denise—Jonah’s aunt, though only by marriage. I married Frank, Jonah’s dad’s younger brother, twenty-six years ago, back when Jonah was just four. Frank and I never had kids of our own, but living just ten minutes from Mark and Linda in Milwaukee meant we were the unofficial Saturday hangout spot for Jonah growing up. Our house always had juice boxes in the fridge and at least one superhero cape lying around for emergencies.

I want to thank Mark and Linda for hosting tonight, and a special thank you to Natalie's family, who made the long drive from Kansas City. We’re so glad you're here to make this celebration complete.

Watching Jonah grow up has been a privilege. He’s always been gentle and loyal, and—if you know him—even as a kid, he was a bit of a worrier. Take, for example, my wedding to Frank. Jonah was our ring bearer, and halfway down the aisle, he plopped right down on the carpet, opened the tiny box to double-check the rings, and then announced to the whole church, “They’re safe!” before carrying on. He’s been doing safety checks ever since—just now with group chats and weather alerts instead of ring boxes.

One summer, when Jonah was twelve, he decided he wanted to help Frank and me build a canoe in our garage. He would measure each board three times, write down every step in his notebook, and double-check our work before we moved on. That canoe still hits the lake every year, and every time I see it, I think of Jonah’s careful hands making sure it would float. He’s always wanted to make sure everyone—and everything—gets home safe.

Then, a couple of Thanksgivings ago, Jonah brought Natalie home. I noticed she looked a little nervous, so I put her on gravy duty with me—a tradition for newcomers in our family. She admitted she’d never made gravy in her life. It ended up lumpy, but Natalie just laughed, and by the time dessert came around, she had everyone at the table cracking up with stories from her first apartment. It reminded me of my own first Thanksgiving with this family—terrifying at first, but you get used to the noise, and the gravy pressure, eventually.

Natalie and Jonah, you two balance each other so well. Jonah, you make sure Natalie’s car has winter tires, and Natalie, you somehow convince him to take weekends off and actually relax. It’s a good trade. And speaking of trades, Natalie, as of this Thanksgiving, the gravy is officially yours. I’ve had the job for twenty-six years, and I’m ready to retire—lumps and all.

My wish for you both is simple: keep paddling in the same direction, even when the water gets choppy. It’s the only way the canoe stays afloat.

(Raise your glass) To Jonah and Natalie—may your days be filled with laughter, warmth, and, of course, endless family group photos with Grandpa Gene yelling, “Everybody say cheese curds!” Cheers!

Hello everyone, I’m Margaret—Lachlan’s aunt and his godmother. You might also know me as Auntie Mags, the lady who always turned up for Christmas with a suitcase stuffed full of presents, then disappeared on Boxing Day like a reverse Santa. Because I’ve always lived in Perth and Lachlan grew up in Brisbane, we mostly kept in touch by post. I’d send a postcard from every place I visited, and in return, I’d get drawings from a little boy who always remembered to write “love from Lachie” at the bottom.

That’s the kind of person Lachlan is. He remembers the small, important things. Birthdays. Thank you notes. Who likes mangoes. He’s thoughtful and steady, and he’s always the first to offer someone a lift, no matter how early the flight. I still remember when he flew across the country on his own at ten years old, carrying a bag of mangoes from his mum’s tree. He greeted me at the arrivals gate like he’d done it a hundred times, and the first thing he asked was if we could go see the quokkas. We did, and I think half my old camera is still filled with his blurry quokka photos.

The first time I met Mia, she was on a video call, holding up the battered shoebox where Lachie keeps all 63 of those postcards. She said, ‘So you’re the famous Auntie Mags.’ I had a little cry and immediately liked her. Mia, you make Lachlan braver, and he makes you laugh. That’s a magic combination. I know you’ll look after each other, and I can’t wait for your road trip out west next winter.

Thank you, Sandra and Paul, for making all us out-of-towners feel so welcome. Mia, welcome to our family—there’s a postcard on its way to you now. My wish for you both is to keep writing to each other, no matter where you are, even if it’s just a note on the fridge.

(Raise your glass) To Lachlan and Mia—may your life together be full of love, laughter, and a few good postcards.