Of Brides and Suitcases

My friend got married yesterday. The flow of emotion through the day was something I'd kind of expected, but not the to the degree that it ended up happening - and it wasn't just me. There were tears and laughter through the whole day. And then it was all over, and I was left to deal with assignments (yes, I'm procrastinating again) and packing my suitcase, something the blushing bride accomplished for her honeymoon the night before the wedding. She's already gone on a plane, on her way to Tahiti and a cruise ship at 5 this morning. I have planned to go to the airport and visit her, but realistically I was never going to make it.

It's strange to think that the wedding, which has dominated so much conversation between a little group of people, is over. What the hell are we going to talk about now? A whirl of a day that didn't seem real in it's fluff and fantasy of sunshine, satin and flowers - and by her own account didn't seem to have happened to the brie eithe, as she sat beside me at the bridal table last night. Perhaps that is why, for the most part, it was more a night of laughter than the obligatory tears of parting. In fact, the laughter was a constant, even through the tears. But at the end of it, in a whirl of satin and lace and tulle, she went out the door of the reception place and into another part of life - the life of a married woman who lives half an hour from my own childhood home, instead of the 10 minutes it has always been before.

I know I'm going to be going off on my own adventure next weekend - and the thought is starting to scare the crap out of me, to be honest - but this is really the first hint of just how much things are going to change with that step. I won't see the bride again before I go. Unless she comes to visit me, that's it for the next 2 years, all going well. It hit me some time during the reception, and I had to dash out into the bridal changeroom to indulge in some tears with another bridesmaid trying to help me pull myself together. It was further helped by the arrival of the best man and one of the groomsmen wanting a photo taken, then commenting that during the whole process one of them had been staring at my chest (not the first time he's passed comments like that and, if he runs true to form and staysa close friend of the groom, probably not the last) - I've discovered that fighting the urge to slap someone is quite the remedy for high strung emotions!

I think the hardest part right now is knowing that we didn't really get a proper goodbye. Much and all as there were hugs on the day, and two big teary hugs before she disappeared out the door and into her new life (or rather Mum and Dad's car, waiting to take them to their hotel for the night), it wasn't a proper farewell. There was too much else going through our minds, too many others to hug, and a bunch of the groom's mates trying to convince him to throw her into the fountain as they nearly knocked him out by attempting to carry him through the doors on their shoulders, disgruntled bride in tow). So now i'm stranded with only phone calls and the very occasional email to keep me in touch with her - and none of that for the next two weeks either. Oh, and a very large suitcase that is in need of filling. Well, at least there's something to distract me...