A Late in Life Love Story in Langosta A Canadian Wedding with Live Harmonies
Some weddings feel big because of the guest count. Others feel big because every person standing there has a lifetime of history with the couple.
Manny and Arthur’s wedding on 21 March 2026 in Langosta, Guanacaste, Costa Rica, was the second kind. Their ceremony took place on a lawn in front of beach condos, with the Pacific close enough to shape the whole mood of the day. There were no rows of distant acquaintances, no crowded reception hall, no rush to perform for a room full of people.
Their guests were their world: four adult children, their spouses and the grandkids.
That was it. And it was everything.
I had the honor of officiating their ceremony, and I also sang with my guitar player, Enoch, for the ceremony and the festivities afterwards. Enoch plays acoustic guitar with warmth and restraint, the kind of playing that lets the moment breathe. Together, we sing close harmonies that fit intimate weddings especially well. Manny and Arthur asked for classic rock, soft rock and country, which suited them beautifully. Their music had history in it, just like their love story.
A love story that arrived with its own timing
There is something deeply moving about couples who find each other later in life. They do not walk into marriage as blank pages. They arrive with full chapters already written.
Manny and Arthur came to their wedding day as Canadians who had lived enough life to know what mattered. That changed the feeling of the ceremony. It was not about beginning adulthood together, or imagining some unknown future from scratch. It was about choosing each other with open eyes, grown hearts and a clear sense of gratitude.
Late in life love has a different kind of courage. It asks people to believe that tenderness can still surprise them. It asks them to make space. It asks families to expand, not because anyone is starting over, but because love has made another room at the table.
That idea became part of the ceremony. Their marriage was not separate from their families. It stood right in the middle of them.
Their adult children were there. Their spouses were there. Their grandchildren were there. The whole guest list was family, which made every exchange more personal. When the couple stood together on that lawn, they were not only making promises to each other. They were letting the people closest to them witness the joy of being chosen again.
For a wedding officiant, that kind of setting is a gift. Nothing needs to be exaggerated. The truth is already strong enough.
The setting in Langosta gave the day room to breathe
Langosta has a quiet beauty that suits intimate weddings. It sits near Tamarindo, but the feeling is more tucked away. The beach, the greenery, the condos and the soft rhythm of the coast all create a setting that does not need much decoration.
Manny and Arthur’s ceremony took place on the lawn in front of the beach condos. That choice shaped the whole day. It kept the ceremony grounded, relaxed and close to nature. Guests did not have to move through a formal venue or wait for things to be reset between moments. The wedding unfolded in a place where everyone could settle in.
The lawn gave the family space to gather without feeling scattered. The beach nearby added movement and sound. The condos gave everyone a sense of home base. It felt comfortable, which matters more than many couples realize.
A beautiful wedding setting is not only about the view. It is about how people feel inside that view.
At Manny and Arthur’s wedding, the location helped everyone soften into the day. Grandkids could be present without the pressure of a formal room. Adult children could stand close and take it all in. The couple could look around and see only the people who mattered most.
That closeness made the ceremony feel honest.
There is also a practical reason lawns by beach condos work so well for destination weddings in Costa Rica. They create a natural flow. Guests can arrive easily, stay nearby and enjoy the celebration without complicated transport. For couples with family across generations, that ease matters.
No one had to fight the event. They could simply be part of it.
Officiating a ceremony for a small family circle
When a wedding has a small guest count, the ceremony has nowhere to hide. Every word lands. Every pause matters. Every laugh becomes part of the memory.
That is why I approach intimate ceremonies differently. I do not try to make them sound bigger. I try to make them feel more true.
For Manny and Arthur, the heart of the ceremony was simple: two people found each other later in life and chose to stand together in front of the family they love. Their story did not need grand language. It needed warmth, respect and enough space for everyone to feel the meaning of the moment.
I always pay attention to the energy of the couple. Some couples want a ceremony filled with humour. Others want something more reflective. Many want both. Manny and Arthur’s day held a gentle mix. There was joy, there was tenderness and there was that quiet awareness that this was a rare and meaningful gathering.
Their family-only guest list made the promises feel even more personal. The adults watching had their own histories with the couple. The grandkids may remember the details differently as they grow, but they were part of the picture. They were there when Manny and Arthur made their commitment.
That matters.
A ceremony like this reminds me that weddings are not only for the couple. They also give families a shared memory. They mark a day when everyone can say, “We were there. We saw it. We celebrated them.”
Small weddings can carry enormous emotional weight because there is no distance between the couple and the people witnessing their promises.
That was true here.
Live music gave the wedding its emotional shape
Music can change the way a ceremony feels before anyone speaks a word.
For Manny and Arthur, the music choices were rooted in songs that already carry memory. They requested classic rock, soft rock and country for the ceremony and the festivities afterwards. That gave us a warm, familiar musical palette. These were not songs chosen only because they were pretty. They were songs with life in them.
Enoch sang “I Cross My Heart” by George Strait for the processional. It was a fitting choice for a couple whose love story carried depth and maturity. A processional song sets the emotional tone for the entire ceremony. This one brought sincerity without feeling heavy.
As Enoch played acoustic guitar, the song helped create a quiet entrance into the vows. It invited everyone to listen. It gave the family a moment to shift from conversation and anticipation into presence.
Then, after Manny and Arthur were married, Enoch and I sang “Islands in the Stream” together for the recessional. That choice brought a completely different kind of joy. It had lift. It had movement. It let the ceremony open back up into celebration.
That contrast mattered.
The processional held the tenderness of the commitment. The recessional carried the happiness of the moment after the promises were made. Together, those two songs helped frame the ceremony from beginning to end.
As a duo, Enoch and I love singing harmony because it naturally reflects partnership. Two voices can carry the same song in different ways, then meet in the center. When it works, it feels effortless. For weddings, that can be powerful. The music does not need to be loud to be memorable. It needs to feel connected.
That is especially true for a small wedding. With only close family present, live music feels personal rather than performed at a distance. Guests can see the guitar being played. They can hear human breath in the vocals. They can feel the slight changes in tempo that happen when musicians are responding to the moment.
Recorded music can be beautiful, but live acoustic music has a pulse. It can follow the couple. It can soften when the ceremony becomes emotional. It can brighten when everyone is ready to celebrate.
For anyone searching for a Costa Rica wedding officiant, singer and/or live music can make the day feel seamless when those roles work together with care. On Manny and Arthur’s wedding day, officiating and singing were not separate services. They were part of one shared experience.
The family made the celebration feel whole
After the ceremony, the music continued into the festivities. With classic rock, soft rock and country as the guide, the atmosphere stayed relaxed and familiar. This was not a wedding that needed spectacle. It needed songs people could enjoy, hum with and recognize.
The guest list made that possible. When a wedding includes only immediate family, the celebration becomes less about entertaining a crowd and more about spending real time together.
Manny and Arthur’s four adult children, their spouses and the grandkids brought the day to life in a way no décor could have. Their presence gave the wedding its emotional center. Every smile and every small interaction mattered because everyone belonged.
There is a special beauty in watching grandchildren at a wedding like this. They may not understand every part of the ceremony, but they understand joy. They understand that something happy is happening. They understand hugs, music, family and celebration.
The adult children likely carried a different kind of emotion. Seeing a parent marry later in life can be tender. It can bring reflection, happiness, surprise and gratitude all at once. A wedding like this invites everyone to honor the full story, not just the chapter being celebrated that day.
That is one of the reasons I love family-only destination weddings. They make room for a different kind of presence. People are not pulled in multiple directions by a huge timeline. They are not trying to greet a hundred guests. They can sit, listen, talk, eat, laugh and stay close to the couple.
Manny and Arthur’s day in Langosta had that feeling. It was simple, but not plain. It was intimate, but not small in meaning.
Why this wedding will stay with me
Every wedding teaches me something. Manny and Arthur’s wedding reminded me that love does not follow one schedule.
Some couples meet young. Some find each other after raising families, building careers and living through seasons they never could have predicted. Both stories are valid. Both deserve celebration. But late in life love has a particular grace. It feels chosen in a very conscious way.
Their wedding also reminded me how powerful it can be to keep a guest list close. With only their children, children’s spouses and grandchildren present, the day held a rare kind of focus. No one there was incidental. No one was simply filling a seat. Each guest was part of the couple’s life in a direct and meaningful way.
And the music will stay with me too.
I will remember Enoch singing “I Cross My Heart” as the ceremony opened. I will remember the feeling of singing harmonies with him on “Islands in the Stream” as Manny and Arthur stepped into the joy of being married. I will remember how naturally classic rock, soft rock and country fit the day, like songs chosen from a life already well lived.
Mostly, I will remember the lawn in Langosta, the family gathered close and two Canadians who found each other later in life, standing together in Costa Rica with the ocean nearby.
That is the kind of wedding that does not need to be grand to be unforgettable.
A wedding day becomes meaningful when it reflects the people at the center of it. Manny and Arthur’s did. It honored their timing, their family, their music and their love. And in the end, that is what every ceremony is meant to do.
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