All's Well That Ends Well(?):
At least that's over. The wedding, I mean. I was fine during the ceremony, mainly thanks to The Girl, my daughter. (She's 17 months old.) The church was mostly empty due to the remnants of Hurricane Ernesto, and she used the opportunity to scream and run around like a little maniac.
The reception itself was a little harder to deal with. First, I hated how I looked. The dress I bought fit me horribly, but serves me right for not even trying it on. I hope to never wear that black sack ever again. (I have a wedding to go to in April, and I hope to be a lot more svelte by then.) Everyone looked so great, and I just felt like a lump. Secondly, of course everyone was there with their SOs. If Pablo were still alive, we would've been together the longest, since we got together back in August of 1996. There was one part where I was talking with my brother-in-law, and The Girl was dancing around, and I just had a keen sense of longing for Pablo to be there with us - I couldn't control the tears. I hate crying in public, because it makes other people uncomfortable (although really, I should just say "fuck 'em all!" and cry my heart out, but it's also a matter of pride). I tried to mask my tears, but several of my uncles and aunts noticed and came over to hug me, or squeeze my hand. Which I greatly appreciated, even if I did want to hide the fact that I was crying.
I miss you, baby.