Ever so now and then, as I watched him silently seated at the bridal dais, with a glowing smile so bright one could never fail to notice, it hit me that he had donned yet another designation to his name. A filial son to two, a cheeky younger brother to four, a partner-in-crime elder brother to me, a loyal buddy to many, a dynamic lawyer to few, and now, a loving husband to the beautiful young lady of his choice.
There are possibly two things I’m utterly horrid at, hands down. Appreciations and farewells. I’m the sort of person who can barely reply an audible ‘you’re welcome’ or ‘thanks’ when showered with tokens of gratitude or compliments, choosing instead to simply avoid eye contact and nod incessantly, as though to mask the awkwardness of the situation. As for farewells, I guess everyone has a little morsel of separation anxiety in us. There is just something about letting go of a part of you that simply tugs at the heart strings. Mitch Albom said it best when he described every ending as a beginning; it’s just that you may not know it at that time.
And while a wedding marks the beginning of a path yet to be trodden, I can’t help but reminisce the moments when my brother and I would giggle non-stop while standing in a corner getting punished, when he dropped by my class to pass the song book and recorder that we shared in primary school, and when I used to get jealous each time he lied down next to my mother, and I’d literally squeeze my way through in between.
The only things I could offer for this momentuous event was a box of chocolate cupcakes with purple buttercream frosting (a gift for the bride), a photo montage for the wedding reception, and endless prayers and wishes for a marriage filled with love and happiness. Congrats, bro!