Great Big Wedding Blues (reposted)

Ships passing in the night

I attended the wedding ceremony of the my cousin yesterday, and while watching the obligatory video presentation which showed them growing up, the line "separate lives, separate continents, until.." and I was struck with sudden awe how horrifyingly random and how beautifully fated the meeting between two perfectly ordinary people who were to spend the rest of their lives together seemed to be.

Like, what if Tony hadn't gone to the church he did, his parents having decided to live just a little further away and closer to another church instead? Or what if his job had posted him somewhere else instead of Canberra? Or if my cousin hadn't gone to Canberra? Would they have met anyway? Or would they just have drifted along the paths of their separate lives, never knowing what they had missed, just by a single decision? It humbles you sometimes to see how frighteningly random life can be, a series of seemingly-inconsequential acts which leads you, ultimately to destruction or perfect happiness. Watching my cousin radiate joy like a switched-on lightbulb every time she saw her husband, it brought me nearly to tears to think how close it might have been, and how glad I was they found each other.

Religious sensibilities

I was reminded forcibly again why I don't like churches and I don't like church people much. Maybe that makes me a heathen who will burn in hell. I was not loving the sermon that as given by the minister of her church. The gist was "Hey, this is the happiest you'll ever be, it will be downhill from this point on because life sucks that way, but hey, at least you married in the faith, go with god!" I paraphrase, of course. But for crying out loud, it's a celebration, not the wake at which we mourn the end of happiness. My disgraceful family was shooting horrified looks at each other around the table, and my mother in particular kept rolling her eyes in a particularly disdainful manner. I never said they were angels.

Meet the Parents In-Laws

Speaking of my disgraceful fmaily, once again and in grand tradition, we managed once again to make ourselves the central focus of the entire ballroom by making the most possible noise at the most inappropriate moments. Like during the prayer, when my father induced my family to a fit of (very audible) giggles when he, obviously only half-listening to what was going on, picked up his glass and proceeded to try and toast everyone instead of bowing his head in prayer. Or when my Uncle R tried to take off his pants in front of the table to prove a point. Or when my aunt M asked my cousin (in front of furiously blushing groom) whether she got laid. Stuff like that. My table, like every other time, became 'that crazy table in front'. At someone's wondering about the fact that we toasted the happy couple with water instead of wine, my mother, the Catholic heathen, sniffed and said, "these Christians lah". I’m amazed I have any religious tolerance at all.

Naturally I had to get asked at least once when "my big day" was going to be. By an almost-perfect stranger, no less. I resisted the temptation to tell him that I’d already gotten married when I was 16 at the Elvis drive-through in Vegas.

Detoxing with Beer

I have to admit that it is very disconcerting to see my cousin married to someone who, to me, is a complete stranger. It’s like, there’s my cousin, and this guy. I really do wish I had a chance to get to know him better, and I think my fmaily feels it acutely. The wedding proceedings lacked something because of that. A true sense of celebration, maybe. Never going to get that chance though. Makes me sad.

Went for drinks with friends of the bride after that at Ice Cold, smoked a truly shocking number of cigarettes, made a lot extremely inappropriate conversation, and generally had a ball. Me and Miss C got ourselves a new clubbing kaki who promises to be fun when she gets drunk (we got a sneak preview). Whoopee!

Went for a gig with Miss C, where we perched on the ground in our pretty chiffon and satin frocks, while kiddies in jeans and t-shirts grunged out around us and thought that they were really cool because they were drinking bottled beer, hot damn. Stop me, I might faint from the coolness they radiate. I felt like Carrie in that episode where she goes out with a younger guy and they play drinking games and she gets kissed by Alanis Morissette. You never feel your age until you're surrounded by people who aren't, and act like it too.

Got a chance to contemplate my future into the wee hours of the morning as me and inimitable Miss C walked and sat and talked and mused and (I) smoked and confessed and looked fabulous but felt wiped out.

Missing Her

I do have a tiny, selfish little confession to make though.

It feels somewhat like the beginning of the end of an era.

On one hand, I feel delighted that cousin has finally found the man of her dreams, someone who'll love her and cherish her and be at her side through times of trouble, to be her rock and her shelter and to love her to itty bitty bits, for as long as they both shall live, amen. Because few people deserve it more.

But on the other hand, it brings to a close a friendship that I've had with one of the most amazing people I've ever had the fortune to know. I don't mean that it dies. More that the friendship I had will change, and although that is inevitably the nature of things, somewhere in my selfish Slinky heart I cannot help but mourn this, regardless of the fact that it is for the best possible reasons.

Because even though there is the Internet, or email, or snail mail if you are so inclined, and there are planes and trains and automobiles, it is never the same as having someone there in your life, to be by your side, to call on the phone, to hang out with on a lazy Sunday afternoon, sitting in a café and watching people go by, and sharing your life, your thoughts, your hopes. The connection by artificial means is more remote, more fleeting, and more superficial. They cannot be there for you in the same way, and you cannot share their lives the way you are used to. You can only do it second-hand, a poor imitation of life. Watching my cousin prepare to begin her new life in another continent with the man she loves, I begin to understand better The Other Cat's distress when Buddy was set to leave for New York indefinitely. And the way she wailed "It’s not the same!" when he pointed out that he’s be on MSN, that he'll visit. You walk separate lives, and though you try and forge paths between continents, sometimes the distance is too far. It's something that was brought home to me when I realized just how much my cousin didn't know when she came back (like, that Cajun died. And that she'd never seen him before he was gone) and how detail needed to be filled in, and how it was impossible to.

But things change, and life goes on. And she moves away, possibly forever, and I felt myself begin to detach, because I'm so bad at goodbyes. And though it is not the end of our friendship, it is the end of something. I hate that.