Janver and Michael Wedding: A Reunion

“What God has joined, let no one separate it.”

I, together with some of my closest friends, have become living witnesses to that testament. Last March 19^th, Janver, portmanteau of her real name Janice Veriña finally tied the knot with her long-time boyfriend Michael in Dumaguete City Cathedral. It was a simple yet very heartwarming ceremony not just for couple’s family but also for us, her friends who took a break from work and came all the way from Cebu and Iligan. It sort of became a little reunion for all of us.

I first came to know Janver when we were assigned by the auditing firm we used to work for, in Victorias City, Negros Occidental. We did not initially click because she was very silent. But when I discovered that she was from St. Paul University Dumaguete (I was from St. Paul University Surigao), the closeness became imminent. Even if our assignment was short-lived, the friendship that was created has obviously lived on.

Here are proofs of that friendship that I think will last forever.

Clearly, the time and distance did not hinder us to catch up with each other. The wedding became an avenue to reminisce the past and laugh at moments of sheer stupidity and plan and dream for the future. I am happy that I found such company with these kind people because I know that no matter what happens, we would always be there for each other.

I would have wished Ef , Janice Banal and Aimee were there. It would have been more fun and exciting if the entire gang was complete. But there will always be another wedding to attend to. The question now is whose?

As for the new couple, I just wish them lifetime of joy and togetherness and of course healthy and beautiful kids. Congratulations Janice and Michael!!!

Living alone...

Almost a year ago, I had the opportunity of living alone when my officemates left permanently our Cebu staffhouse for an Agusan work assignment. Finally, I had all the freedom I so long desired because for most of my life, I have always been living with my family. Living arrangement like this would not surely make my adult life prosper. (You know exactly what I mean about that.) But that is not the only thing I was ecstatic about initially.

Living alone gives me all the time to watch my favorite cable channel because there is no one else trying to switch it. I don’t have to rush doing my thing in the bathroom because I know there is no one knocking on the door. When coming home late from gimmicks, I don’t have to worry anymore whether the main door is double-locked or not. Simply, I was very happy having all the freedom to do everything I want just because I am all alone.

But this happiness that freedom brought seemed to be so fleeting. Two months or so have passed, I started to feel empty. I missed the food that Yanyan and Mark prepared for every dinner and the funny conversations that ensued. I missed those times when we had to sleep all together in one room basically because it’s air-conditioned. I felt that the two-bedroom apartment became a creepy mansion that sometimes in the midnight silence, I could hear whispers. In other words, I was alone and was starting to feel lonely.

I am a naturally loquacious person that coming home from a day’s work without anyone to talk to drives me crazy. This leads me to a deep thinking about the lives of some people who remain single, either out of destiny or rather out of choice, as a consequence of a painful break-up, on how they seize their every day. Would it really matter if we have someone we can sleep with at night? Does it make any difference if we have someone to eat breakfast with the following morning?

Of course, for me, it does.

There is not a single day when I had not wished that maybe I would find that someone. Someone to hold, someone to lean on, someone to laugh with and someone who makes me feel alive. That I can just shrug off the depressing idea of growing old alone because I know someone’s gonna be here to stay by me. And that someone could just be anybody because after all, love is not about genders.