Liv in a Life Well-Lived

I always cry at weddings because it's a big deal to me that when my turn comes (or should i say, if), I wouldn't have my Mum and Dad to walk me down the aisle. Somebody on post secret shared what she did. She walked with her parents, still. Stig!!!!

Yesterday, we went to Nueva Ecija to attend my cousin's wedding and was prepared for the worst inquisition. My cousin was 2 years younger than I was after all, and yet there she is, looking resplendent in her knock-out wedding gown. Now I know there are worse things than being pestered about getting married already, and that is NOT being pestered about it. :D But then, seeing how happy my cousin was, albeit a bit tired, I hardly cared. This is probably the first wedding I enjoyed thoroughly. If only because I wasn't part of the entourage or the program. Don't get me wrong, I like doing those for my friends. But it just makes me a tad too nervous to really appreciate the moment. It's hard to think, "aw shucks, look at the groom he's tearing up," without thinking, "oh dang, the next speaker is a bit lush already," or "god, what's the next line again?" Hazel married a Baguio army man, and the celebrations included true-to-goodness Igor...

I just woke up from a dream where I was hugging my father about to ask them why they left us alone and how the house was so empty without them, when I was jolted awake by the pure horror that that's still my life, and my first lucid thought was "go back to the dream" and i can't. then the first wave of nausea hits me and I run to the bathroom and be sick. I'm not stupid, I know I get more sick as the holidays draw near. I know what it implies. I'm sorry to everyone who I'm disappointing out there; I try, and I'll keep trying, but for now, the brain is willing but the heart is still sick.