I am writing this entry as I am still reeling from the atmosphere of my little sister’s somewhat big wedding.
For the past two days, we had nothing but this wedding in our mind.
For some, such as my family and those who help organizing it, the wedding had been on their minds for the past few weeks and months.
For the bride and the groom, the wedding had also been on their minds for the past year when they decided to tie the knot.
For me, the wedding has been lingering on my conscience, meaning that I had been made aware of the wedding for some time. But not only in the past few minutes ago I realize that a wedding like this is a big deal.
Not exactly a fan of big wedding myself, I made my way into it by benefitting from the obvious, natural status as a member of the hosting family. Once stepped in, I felt lost. Everyone was busy, but me. Eventually I was made busy as well, but only to a miniscule portion of what others had done greatly.
The awareness started kicking in when the wedding ceremony happened. I was made to sit next to dad before he gave his daughter to the hand of marriage.
Awkward, yes, but the uncomfortable position also made me realize that a son has to learn being a good guardian to his family in every small step. As I get to witness my sister signed the note of marriage legally from a very close sight, it is clear that she also signs an approval note that part of my duty being a brother to her has now been taken over by someone else.
Someone whom she is expected to spend the rest of this lifetime with. Someone who will be her first immediate contact in any given circumstances.
The adjustment period did not even start yet when we had to prepare for the wedding reception the next day, a day after the ceremony. The aforementioned status as a family member only prompted organizers to point me as one of ushers to bring the newlyweds to the stage, and to welcome guests who came to greet the couple. As guests walked past me, I struggled to recall names and faces from distant relatives, neighbors, old family friends, to which I mostly failed. My other sister helped me to memorize the names to an already forgotten effect by now.
But what I won’t forget is the joyful faces of aunts, uncles, nephews, nieces and cousins who cheered the wedding from their smiles.
Coming from different cities and islands, they reunited in this wedding, albeit briefly.
“Your belated aunt must be proud seeing her children gather again today, unexpectedly,” my other aunt pointed out. I could not agree more.
When we posed for a group photo, my mind flew briefly to big Lebaran gatherings we always did years ago, back when the elders were still around. As one by one departed, the tradition slowly fades out, but apparently, the memory is not.
The price for embracing the nostalgia is the intrusion of privacy we often get. But then the more I thought about it, the more I realize that it may take a while for both our ability to convey our choice, and for them to accept what we have chosen.
Then again, this note is made as I am still reeling from the euphoria of a wedding.
It may not make me wanting to do the same for myself, but it is the exuberant joy of seeing our present family members, both close and extended ones, that make such event sticks to our mind as long as we live.