It may well have been one of the most paradoxical days of my life. From my aching, wobbly body I felt absolute joy in being able to watch the processional - most especially her - on her wedding day. You see I have adored her her entire life. I love her and she’s always had a very special place in my heart… always. The day was perfect, her ceremony was perfect, it was all simply breathtaking.
As night fell and what bit of equilibrium I had demanded I leave, leave just as the soirée began, I reached for mudita. I was so very happy in her happiness. I was able to watch the celebrating from my apartment window just above the courtyard. I watched as the traditional first dance happened. I watched as family and friends encircled she and her groom. It was beautiful. She was glowingly happy.
But I was numb. You see the limitations my body places on my soul are sometimes almost more than I can bear. I wanted to be there - dancing, celebrating, and socializing. I am loquacious, I am, by nature, interactional, I am not a wallflower, except that my betraying body makes it appear that I am. Is it selfish to be feeling so sad? It may seem that I had a pity party, but… Did she know? Did she know that I was celebrating her from the shadows? That I wanted to be down there frolicking with the best of them? Hugging her, hugging him? Getting to know the others in her life that know her? Raising my glass in jubilation?
In the wee hours I could hear the music and friends and family laughing and dancing. I lay smiling as well as crying in both happiness for her and sadness for having my life interrupted… Yet again.