We attended our friend's daughter's beautiful and intimate wedding last weekend. The bridal party and family were resplendent. Every detail was meticulously planned, from the charming decorations to the heartfelt speeches. Even the weather knew its assignment and showed up picture-perfect. We felt deeply honored to be part of such a joyous occasion.
While I was very excited to celebrate with everyone, I also had this tiny other emotion. I couldn't put my finger on it or describe it adequately to my husband, so I won't try to do it now, but it was a weird anticipation. It was a mix of nostalgia, curiosity, and a hint of apprehension. We knew other people from our past who would also be attending the wedding, and it would be our first time seeing them in over 12 years. People we did life with regularly, took family vacations with and spent countless hours chatting with. We were the families that had dinner together, which seemed like every Sunday after church, took a whole section in a restaurant, and did date nights as couples that closed down a restaurant after hours and hours of talking. We definitely had our share of fun and memorable times.
At the time, we considered them one of our closest confidants. However, things have changed, and we no longer do so. Knowing that we will see a blast from our past conjured different emotions. Again, I don't know what they were, but they were there.
When we finally saw each other, it was like no time had passed. We greeted each other with warm hugs and left with the same love. Our conversation was light, filled with small talk and pleasantries. It was simple and a reassurance that it was okay to move on.
The night was still young when we left. Guests were still celebrating and enjoying the dance floor, but my toes couldn't handle it anymore. We returned to our hotel room and exchanged party clothes for comfy ones. I reflected on the night as we settled in bed and nibbled on our party favors. Seeing our friends celebrate their daughter and new son in love was wonderful. Everyone genuinely seemed delighted for the new couple. And then I thought about my heart and how that tiny weird emotion was gone. I tried to think about what had happened to that relationship that we thought would be lifelong and why it had turned in a different direction. I pondered what went wrong; I could not recall any details. I tried to remember, but I couldn't. My mind went blank. Then I realized that God renewed my mind and my heart, and that's why I had no memory of the pain. I didn't have any ill feelings; I was free.
Amid all the drama, I thought the relationship turned south, but now I don't think so. I think we just went east, and they traveled west. We had our direction to follow, and it didn't intersect with theirs. My husband and I initially grieved, but in retrospect, we needed to break up.
Some relationships are not supposed to be lifelong. You can have breakups, and it's okay. Now that I have walked through it, I know it happens, and it's no fault of either side. Like any meaningful relationship breakup, you must go through the process. This process of recognizing that the relationship has changed, grieving the loss of what was, and then moving on, accepting we have evolved, that's what happened to the four of us.
After so many years, seeing them again has not changed our love and respect for them. They are thriving in their way, and I think my husband and I can humbly say we are, too. I'm grateful for this fresh start. Seeing our past was beautiful, but knowing we've moved on is even more impressive.
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