The wedding is so close, just a couple of months away. One of my best friends from high school - I'll call her Simone - is getting married. :)
I've known for a year that she'll be getting married in April; still, I have no idea whether or not I'll attend. More than likely, I won't know until that afternoon. Maybe even 'til I walk through the door.
We met when we were freshmen in high school. That was back in Alanis Morissette's Jagged Little Pill days, and Simone so closely resembled her. I remember telling her to pose, to put her hand in her pocket and give me the peace sign. We recognized each other as kindreds (from lifetimes back) the first night a group of us hung out together.We bonded immediately and have always been on the same wavelength - appreciations and neuroses alike.
Over the years, she's kept in touch with me the most consistently - especially in these last few reclusive ones, though not so much anymore. We've hardly talked since she called me last year to tell me that her boyfriend - I'll call him Oliver - had proposed. By then I'd already begun shying away from social calls, so that we spoke that time was a big thing itself. However, we were still talking when she first met Oliver, so I got to hear about their first meetings and listened as she spoke of their burgeoning romance. He sounds like a super nice guy and is cute to boot.
When she called to tell me about his proposal, she told me how afterward, Oliver had invited all of her family and friends to a pub for a surprise celebration. Hearing that stung a little bit. I felt like I should have been there. But really, how could I expect an invitation? I'd never met the guy or even been around Simone herself for years. My absence there was my doing, I know that. But still it sounds like something that would have been nice to be a part of.
So, it's been about two weeks since my invitation came in the mail. I've taken it out a couple of times and looked at it, admiring the little pink shaded birds, clueless as to how I'll reply. Considering my reaction to the pub party, I can imagine how I'll feel if I don't go to the wedding - but more importantly, how Simone will feel. I've told her how unsure I am and she's told me how much it would mean to her to have me there.
It's been pointed out to me that I could just go to the ceremony and skip out on the reception. And that is a thought...
Really, this is Simone's and Oliver's day, not mine. So it's not like I'd be that noticed. Why is this such a thing with me? What's with the hesitation? Part of me obviously wants to go, otherwise I wouldn't be having this conversation with myself; I wouldn't feel this torn or trepidacious. I would clearly know that staying home is the right thing for me to do - but I don't have that knowing; I do not have that certainty.
I want to be a good friend. And a wise, courageous soul. I want to be with Simone on her special day, and meet the man that she loves so much. I'd like to rise to the occasion and be the kind of person I know I am...or could be.
It's real...and it's freakin' me out.
(The perfect spiritual practice!)
Bright side: there is over a month to reply.