Sweet.

My aunt Carolyn (and Jim’s dentist) got married just this Sunday at Sanctuario de San Jose in Greenhills. It was a surprisingly fine event to be cherished since it was a union and re-union of sorts as well.

I was reluctant to attend at first after realizing when I woke up that I literally didn’t had time to sleep / rest until Tuesday afternoon (so much things to do), and that preconceived expectations (and embarrassingly, wishful thinkings) about weddings and receptions are much better left of when I get older, say about 28, because there are things in life that are more apt to be planned and articulated by your life partner (hence the embarrassment in admitting), but heck, I wouldn’t miss this for the world. It’s one of my favorite aunt’s day. Besides, the whole clan (apart from my family) would never forgive me for the non-appearance.

I’m particularly elated as I’m typing this after seeing the intricate wood carvings that bordered the huge central cross of the church. And together with the stained glass and the whole clan of both the bride and the groom eagerly waiting for the presiding priest to utter the most cliché of lines, such expression of man of his love for life, for his Creator, and on an even more abstract level of meaning, for love itself, are never more exemplified in poignancy than that.

Sweet.

It is also interesting to mention that the opening invocation during the reception in EDSA Shangri-La was delivered by no one other else than Reverend Pastor Vicente Sia! Yes, it's our own highschool head chaplain, Mrs. Sia’s horny husband, and our Math teacher Mrs. Yao’s older brother. Our Boksu.

At that very moment, I was filled with nostalgic pride as I wanted to boast to everyone that that person over there shares his roots with mine, that we came from same institution (well, I studied there and attended weekly chapel hours and masses, while he literally lives there). Of how he is connected to the groom, I can only guess.

Another event that caught me vulnerably smiling was how lighthearted my aunt was, during the wedding reception. She feigned drunkenness and fainting after she and her husband drunk their ceremonial champagne together. It’s such a cute sight to witness that one can still maintain her jesting even when everyone’s eyes are gaily fixated at the couple’s every move. The same could however, not be said for the terrible emcee.

Such a lovely, witty, and free-spirited personality. The thought alone of spending the rest of your life with that kind of bliss makes one want to live the next day, and the day after that, until the faithful day arrives where he finally meets her.

Sweet.

That night, I realized that one’s life ultimately comes into full circle, and it’s the meaning that you make out of each step, each single passing moment is what really counts. They, who have been children before, who have been in my age and position, who have experienced frustrations on where their careers would lead them, who have restless thoughts at the back of their heads on how their future significant others would be like, are now transitioning into position of care-giving. Aging matriarchs now take the position of then held by the patriarchs of the clan. Contemplative thoughts about how they have lived their lives must come across as they sit and watch their children becoming parents, their kin becoming brides, and their grandchildren becoming ladies.

And returning to where it started, as an allusion of how everything comes into full circle, and of how the simplest, tiniest of things could ever mean so much. My aunt, now Carolyn Geronimo Torres-Basa, the dentist, is really nicknamed “Sweet”.

My young naiveté cousin Jennifer would laugh at the irony of it; I would smile as it alludes her love for her husband; my auntie-lola would nod to the thought that that word meant life.

Sweet.