I always saw walking down the aisle as something romantic. But not today. Not when I entered the church and found your framed smile as I realized you were also laying down inside a white coffin beside your own portrait. At that second, I felt like a bride with cold feet. Was it too late to take a step back? I was not ready to meet you at the end of this aisle. I will never be ready to meet you like that. Yet, that was going to be the last time I would see you. For you, I will walk down this aisle. Not with canon nor wedding march but with a very specific memory that only my mind can play.
It was a Tuesday in November 2021. It was going to be the first time we met again after being socially distancing for over a year. Our days in the pandemic were filled with random phone calls both in the AMs and PMs. Often, it became video calls. But always, we kept sending each other text messages. So, that Tuesday was somehow monumental for these besties in college who’d be meeting up in a cafe.
I was there before you. I kept myself busy with my 3 PM online meeting, listening to the fresh request and on to the new quest. At around 4 PM, you arrived. I was still preoccupied with the orders of copies on my deck and you mind your own business. You put your bag on the chair beside me and went to the counter. When I finished with my task, I looked at you scrolling your phone. We locked eyes and finally we talked.
“We finally meet,” I said.
“We finally meet,” you echoed me.
You were still petite. You still had that Hagrid hair. You used your usual t-shirt and jeans. Things were still the same. The way we converse was also spot on. Our ability to read each other’s mind and finish each other’s sentences–not just with the same words but also the same intonation–deserves an award. It felt like we were still two college students who spent their days together 24/7. Maybe it was also because we were roommates for two-and-a-half years. We were used to include each other in our daily lives. We didn’t stop doing that after I moved out. Through that lasting habit, I know that you were job-seeking, you just got back from a family vacation, and you were still cancer free. However, you dropped a statement that made me speechless.
“I think I want to get married.”
As I gulped my ice lychee tea, my eyes widened. I rotated my chair to face you, so it would be easier to see you.
“You sure?” I asked.
You nodded and let me process. We were friends for more than four years and you were very set about not getting married. Even when you were in your previous relationship. You always shrugged off the topic and I can sense some tense and sudden awkwardness between the two of you. Yet at this time–in a fresher and different relationship–you could see yourself being committed to a person? You could see yourself becoming someone’s wife?
“Who are you and what have you done to my friend?”
You laughed then walked me through your thinking process. You told me how unfamiliarity pushed you out of the comfort zone. You realized how safety can come from something new and unfamiliar. You showed me snippets of your conversation with him. Things started to make sense. I was happy with this change. Or growth, perhaps.
My mind repeated every time you talked loudly about not wanting to get married. And slowly your voice saying that specific sentence lowered down in volume. To honor your growth, I had to get used to your present mindset. It was unbelievably easy. Firstly, I liked your recent partner better than the previous one. You were in an ease I never saw. You were playful still, yet calmer. You no longer stood on a precipice nor running back and forth on paths full of eggshells and Legos.
The conversation continued and it traveled to a lot of topics. Our 2 AM talk in that college dorm room arrived too early that day. It was still 6 PM and we were sharing stories like this cafe was our private space.
My phone vibrated. My parents called and told me they’re near the cafe we were meeting. So we tidied up our stuff. For some minutes, it felt like we were just finishing class–doing the exact motion and behavior while tidying up. It was both 2021 and somewhere between 2016 to 2019.
As I put on my backpack, you stared at me.
“You don’t want to take a photo?”
I nodded. Again, we were too used to being together on a daily basis, I kind of forgot that we are no longer going back to the same bedroom. Then, we took some selfies by using my tumbler as a phone stand.
As we walked outside, I told you that I would need to go across the street to meet my parents. You nodded and went in front of me. I was puzzled, I thought we were going to part ways at that spot. Yet, you walked with me to the other side of that street. We just got some extra minutes to open a few topics while we cross the bridge. When we got to the other side of the street, I told you that I’d be fine waiting alone, but you insisted on being there with me.
“You sure?” I asked.
You nodded, “I want to say ‘hi’ to your parents. I kinda miss them, honestly.”
When my parents’ red hatchback was visible to our eyes, we walked towards it. They rolled down the window as I entered the car. You greeted them like you always did whenever we had video calls and you saw them on your screen–walking or simply existing behind me. In the midst of the rush hour traffic, you three talked a bit. Of course it made some cars impatiently sound their horns. Then you waved at us and walked to the bridge again. As you disappeared from our sight, my mom said something that made me smile.
“You two will be best friends forever.”
We have had our forever. It was less than a decade, but still: a forever. Though somehow I still wish for more, I guess this short forever was meant to be.
Sorry you never got to walk down the aisle. Gosh, what I saw that moment would be your sight if you ever stood there. He was at the end of the line, beside that white coffin, beside you. My eyes were capturing the proof of love he had for you. It was painful to witness you two like that. Yet, somehow I was lowkey relieved. You finally experienced love in the better light, in the way that made you shine brighter. You were a ray to many. Let us pass your shine as a way to honor you.
There I was, walking down the aisle. I took a long look at you for the last time. Smaller than petite. No longer with the Hagrid hair. Wearing a dress for eternity. You were at ease, resting in peace.
