My Best Friend's Wedding and Why I Couldn't Stop Smiling

Tristan, the dashing groom, watching his bride,
Nona, as she approaches the altar.

There are days in one's life, very special days, when one couldn't stop smiling, even if one were to try really hard.  There's a kind of happiness that comes from deep within, so deep, that it taps into the core of the universe and energy flows in such abundance it cannot be concealed. The lucky person who feels such energy will exude an unmistakable glow, not just through smiling lips or eyes, but even through the skin. And when you are in the presence of such palpable energy, you will know it, feel it, and be inspired. This, dear friends, is why I love going to weddings, and how I gauge whether I've attended a really good one. I was just at my best friend's wedding, and I got to witness what I was hoping for - I felt it - that unmistakable feeling when you know destiny is being fulfilled. I am familiar with Tristan Jovellana's many faces, and I was anticipating a look on his face worthy of his wedding day. Oh how I basked in its light when I saw it! He was giddy-happy-proud-fulfilled-in-love.  And I, feeling profoundly connected to my dearest friend, tapped into his energy, mirroring his happiness and amplifying it further. I couldn't stop smiling too. What delicious energy it was to soak in!

My dad and mom getting to walk down the aisle. 

Tristan and Nona, the groom and bride, honored our family by asking us to take part in their wedding: they invited my parents to be Primary Sponsors (godparents), they asked me to be a Secondary Sponsor (candle sponsor), and my little girl was their flower girl.  My husband, Oliver was away on a business trip to Europe so he couldn't join us, but my sister Marion was able to come. Our family came full force for the occasion because Tristan is close to our hearts. He brought cheer to our home at crucial points - he's responsible for bringing to us a most beloved pet, my mom's dog Pirouette, who offered a decade's worth of joy and companionship to my parents when my sis and I left home to live abroad and they had to deal with an empty nest. He did stunning interiors for our new home, with his design touches always getting a lot of compliments from our guests. And when I lived abroad, he was one of the truest friends I had, who remained my constant anchor in the Philippines, always making time to meet up whenever I'm in town. His participation at my own wedding is unforgettable: I walked down the aisle to the sound of his beautiful voice - he was singing soulfully as I made my way to Oliver. My parents brought me to the altar, and so did Tristan through his song, accompanying me to the very last millisecond of my single days.  I wanted to share in his joy on his wedding day, as he did with me on mine.

My mom and dad, Walter and Sonia, Ninang and Ninong to Tristan and Nona.

And my parents, I am so glad they are ninong and ninang to the newlyweds. They were two smiley people on Tristan and Nona's wedding day. When they walked down the aisle for the bridal procession, they looked like a young couple on a special date.  Truth be told, both my dad and mom were not feeling well  - they were lethargic, fatigued, and sick before and after the event. But during the wedding and reception that followed, they were energized and in good spirits. A magical moment can do wonders. Even Narra, who acted up and refused to walk down the aisle at the start of the wedding, was already smiley afterwards.

At the reception, there were lovely details that made guests feel extra welcome. There were tiny picture frames functioning as place cards. Next to my photo frame was that of Oliver's and my daughter Narra's. Oh how I missed my husband! I remembered our own wedding day, and how he looked as I approached the altar. I remember how I felt, and what joyous energy coursed through my veins.  I remember how we smiled, our super happy smiles, so uncontrollable our gums showed. It's a mental picture I constantly replay, and it never fails to brighten cloudy days.

Individual photo frames serving as place cards (with photos of me, Oliver, and Narra)

To Nona, I have this bit of advice: always remember how Tristan looked on your wedding day.  There will be days in your married life when you would have doubts - on those dark days summon the memory of an important truth, that your husband declared his love for you on your wedding day, not just from the heartfelt vows he uttered at the altar, but from the triumphant exuberance he projected through every pore of his skin. A couple of weeks before your wedding day, Tristan visited me at home and we had a heart to heart talk, and I asked him about his fears regarding marriage - and he told me one fear - one that I feel if I share in public against his will is a beautiful betrayal he could forgive. Nona, he told me the most beautiful fear any woman would wish her man would say: he feared he might lose you.  Tristan, who used to be the center of the universe, the charmingly narcissistic and endearing megalomaniac who needed only himself to be happy, finally needed someone else for real, for good - someone he cannot bear to live without.  He found you.  And if you ever question the depth of his love for you, remember that he oozed with joy on your wedding day,  and was consumed with emotion as he said his vows. He exuded love, and electrified those close to him with his happiness. This kind of joy cannot be faked or forced, or performed. It comes from a sacred source and happens only by grace.

Tristan, Nona, and my sister Marion.

Remember my wedding message for you both: Don't just rely on love to sustain your marriage, but rather, rely on marriage to sustain your love. When I lit your wedding candle I summoned all the best wishes and good vibes I could muster, and prayed that you would have a marriage that is truly blessed. Thank you so much for inviting my family to share in your big day. It was such a beautiful affair that all of us also felt beautiful! And I, with my post-partum body, can't thank you enough for making me feel happy in my own skin again with all that positive energy.  You gave me a precious few hours to relive the beauty and joy I felt on my own wedding day. Thank you, oh thank you.

An Afternoon in Paco Park: Contemplations on Choosing a Final Resting Place

The Historical Marker at the entrance of Paco Park.

The old mortuary chapel, now a popular wedding venue.

A few weekends ago, Oliver and I left the kids at home and headed out for coffee. We needed to have a serious conversation about preparing for the future.  Oliver's brother Owen had just died, and his passing away forced opened a series of flood gates, and we drowned in questions to which we had no ready answers. We drove around Manila and stumbled upon Paco Park, an old Spanish-era cemetery built in the early 1800's. It was hauntingly beautiful.

The elevated promenade above the old cemetery niches.

That Sunday afternoon, there was a wedding going on in the park's little stone chapel, the garden was quite deserted, however, so we had the place to ourselves. We walked up centuries old stone steps to get to an elevated promenade which offered a panoramic view of the layers of niches neatly embedded in the cemetery's concentric walls. From inside the chapel, a choir was singing "Anima Christi", and the lyrics reduced us to silence. A wedding is such a hopeful ritual, sanctifying the union of strangers who are drunk with love, transforming them into a family. How peculiar to hold it in a place as sobering as a cemetery.  On some level, however, it is profoundly fitting to tie the knot in a place like this - after all, both marriage and death symbolize something permanent, final.

"Cadena Perpetua", my mother says of marriage - you are linked (or chained) to each other for eternity. That afternoon in Paco park made me think about marriage, family, and death - where will my resting place be when the call of death arrives?  Both Oliver and I would want to respect each other's wishes when it is our turn to confront the inevitable. This can only be done, however, if our wishes are known.  While taking care of arrangements for his brother's burial at Manila Memorial Park, Oliver considered buying memorial plans for us. The family just bought adjacent lots, and plans on building a mausoleum. Details like allocations, design lay-out, and even "positioning" are now being discussed... incredibly awkward topics that need to be addressed so construction could begin. 

The conversation we started that afternoon in Paco Park was revived again today, and became even more pressing.  Sadly, suddenly, shockingly, an aunt - Tita Boots - died two days ago of a heart attack, and Oliver, once again, had to go to Manila Memorial Park for burial arrangements. While there, he gave me a call, and we had one of the weirdest conversations ever - so morbid, it could only be carried out with humor.

"Babe", he said, "I'm buying 2 memorial plans for both of us". He sounds excited.  "I'm now an expert on caskets, there are nuances to picking one, what color, what finish, what kind of door - single or double, for half or full viewing", he chuckles as he explains. "I've scrutinized the burial packages available, I'm choosing for you, just go for the upgrade if you're not happy with it", I laugh at the word "upgrade"... and knowing his penchant for picking the good stuff, I asked him "can I get a downgrade instead and get a cash refund for the difference?" True enough, he confirms:  "hindi siya mura ha! (but it's not cheap ha!)... It's my Christmas gift na!" he laughs. "Yehey!"- I reply sarcastically, we both laugh.  

Haha. The hopeless romantic in me interprets his gesture in the most flattering light - he loves me so much, he'd want to lie next to me forever? I thought when we exchanged vows, we only promised 'til death do us part' and we're free to choose separate "accommodations" afterwards! We tried to keep the conversation light with humor. But I found myself teary-eyed.  I want to be buried with family, for sure, but how can I think of "family" without my dad, mom, and sis? 

I am still in denial about a certain truth I instinctively know, that marriage and childbirth are so life-changing they've changed what the word "family" means for me now.  Of course a word can hold multiple meanings, but one meaning would tend to be privileged over all others. What family means to me now, first and foremost, is Oliver, Narra and Guijo.  I love this new family we started, I am awash with gratitude for this precious, picture-perfect family God blessed me with. But something hurts, deep inside. For 3 decades I thought of family primarily in terms of that 4-person unit that made up our happy Briones home.  For the past 3 years, I mentally appended my new family to my old one, from a circle of 4, to 5 with Oliver, to 6 with the addition of Narra, to 7 with Guijo's arrival.  I deluded myself into thinking no transition was necessary from old family to new, that the two were seamlessly welded in a continuum.

The question on what I would choose as a final resting place however, sends my mind reeling with the painful truth that the two roads to eternity chosen by my two families diverge, and I could not travel on both roads without splitting myself in half.  Oliver is looking at coffins and plans for us to be buried at Manila Memorial Park. My mother bought a vault at the spanking new National Shrine of St. Therese Columbarium, a modern resting place for cremated remains of the departed. Four urns can be accommodated in each vault. I am welcome at either resting place. So Oliver asks, if something happens to me, what are my wishes? He will respect whatever I choose.

I know that before I got married, when Oliver's family came to my house for the pamamanhikan, it was a symbolic ritual, a transfer of rights - from my family to his - I was being taken into his family with my family's consent, because we asked for their blessing. What was being brokered was a lifetime of memories.  When I was "given away" by my dad at the end of the aisle on my wedding day, these were part of what he was giving away: the exclusive right to Christmases and other holidays and where they will be spent - and even where I will be laid to rest when God calls me back to Him. By virtue of marriage, I have an invitation to the Carsi Cruz plot in the cemetery. Will I say yes to the invitation?

At my wedding, being "given away" by my parents.

My mind goes back to my wedding day and how joyously I said "I do" to being bound to Oliver. I was bursting with happiness, in a spiritual way, to the core of my being. Walking down the aisle felt like walking into the light and seeing everything clearly because I followed my heart to commit to a future with him.  We got married on 08-08-08 because 8 means infinity,  symbolizing forever. 8 also looks like a chain, "cadena perpetua" - as my mother would say. I recall an unusual thing we did at our wedding  - I walked down the aisle to a song sung a capella by my best friend Tristan. The lyrics went:

Take and receive Oh Lord, my liberty

take all my will, my mind, my memory,

All things I hold, and all I own are thine,

thine was the gift to thee I all resign

Do thou direct, and govern all and sway

do what thou will command, and I obey

Only thy grace, thy love on me bestow,

these make me rich, all else will I forego

And as I replay the scene in my head, of me walking down the aisle, and how at that moment, I understood the meaning of this song at a much deeper level than ever before, it becomes clearer to me where I want to finally be laid to rest.

That afternoon in Paco Park, we were at a cemetery, and there was a wedding, and I remembered my own wedding, and how Oliver and I held each other in a tight embrace as soon as we were pronounced man and wife. It felt like coming home. While at Paco Park I had a mental picture of us, together for a very long time, in life...and in death. I saw an image of our children and grandchildren visiting our graves - we are side by side, their Papa and Mama, their Lolo and Lola, in this beautiful family mausoleum made of bricks. I know my place is by my husband's side.