Well, I’m officially an old maid.
That has to be the most self-centered way ever of announcing that your sister (younger by nine days!) just got hitched, by God. (Literally too, in a way.)
It’s still sinking in. I can grok the couple (the Now-Husband is awesome, and I thoroughly endorse their union), I can deal with the Forever quotient. I just… I don’t know. I can’t get a handle on something about it, and I’m still not sure what, or why.
Talking to Tinfoil (the best man) about it last night (that would be The Day After, for clarification), I tried to frame the hollowness in words. I felt like a big house late in the afternoon on January 1st; party’s over, good memories remain, but there’s a definite empty, “need to clean up” feeling that drifts through the soul between the scattered chairs and rumpled napkins.
Tinfoil and I chalked it up to being “behind” on the life game (despite our differences in views on how the game operates) but that still doesn’t feel quite right.
Linlin had called earlier in the day, and (as one of the bridesmaids) was sympathetic with my narcissistic malaise. She pointed out how the advice from much-trusted teen girl magazines always said (of highschool formals) to have something (a brunch, group pedicure, whatever) planned for the day after, to ease the settling down after the “big night”.
And maybe that’s it. There was a brunch, which was awesome, but I don’t know that it did much to help me settle down. It’s funny that despite understanding on a head-level that this wedding was A Big Deal, it never felt like one until maybe the week before the day. And I guess since it was that slow to pick up inertia, I’m still waiting for that feeling to subside.
It’s a pretty momentous thing to pledge your life’s affections to one other person. Although people do it all the time, it’s pretty earth-shattering to be standing right there when it happens to someone you know and love, to see the glowing eyes, and happy smiles, and start breathing again when you don’t drop the ring, and manage to blink back tears and see the sunlight falling on a shiny-new couple (no matter how long they’d been together before that), on a perfect day.
I expect it’ll take awhile for the “Mr. and Mrs.” thing to really sink in; for the head-realization that things aren’t too different to soak gently down and permeate the space in my chest. Until then (and until the official photos are found and organized), here’s what I got:
The picture’s stolen from a friend, but pretty much sums up the night: cozy, informal, and very happy.
Have a happy honeymoon chan!