The brides of June

There she is radiant at the entrance of the altar. She waits for her turn to march down the aisle after the entourage has finished their processional. She glows in the moment. Pachelbel’s "Canon"soars through the hollows of the church. Then she marches down the aisle. Her walk is steady. Sure of herself, she approaches the altar. Then the smile turns to tears. No wonder, waterpoof makeup is a requirement for weddings. 

Getting married is a happy occasion. It should be. But I wonder why some people cry at weddings. Mothers do. Occasionally, fathers as well. It’s the thought of giving away a precious daughter. She’ll be part of the world of her man. Parents have a different way of taking care of their children as opposed to a husband taking care of his wife. Scary probably. With her husband, she is not a child, she is a wife. But she loves him, that’s why the marriage. The fear sets in when she suddenly realizes that she’s crossing to new grounds. It’s a new territory. It’s something that she must learn how to navigate and negotiate as the days and years go by. She must have read books on being a wife, but reality has set in where theories and rules don’t necessarily apply because they’re either old hats or broken fenders. It’s a world where vows are made and where dreams can be broken. The time has come for her to gather her strength and survive. Even if she comes running to Mama and Papa anytime, the music’s gone and Pachelbel’s "Canon" will surely have a remix version. Romance comes but once, it can be sustained through the years, but surely some strings can be broken. Some can be mended, some left torn and dangling forever. It isn’t nightmare on Elm Street though. That’s far too fictional. Not all husbands end up like Freddy Kruger or even close. But nightmares can come and go or they stay (again) forever. I’m getting carried away. I don’t want to sound morbid or even try to reinvent Tim Burton’s Corpse Bride. And I’m not about to discourage future brides. I’m simply wondering why people, particularly brides, cry at their weddings. 

Perhaps it’s the idea of giving up the single life. There will be less time for barkadas. Mister will have to be taken care of. And who will take care of the Mrs.? I once read an article written by Judy Brady. The article was entitled "Why I Want a Wife?" Judy Brady clamors for attention. She complains that husbands don’t take care of their wives. I wouldn’t say that this is a generalization although in some instances there’s truth to the matter. And so she cries worrying how married life is going to be. Will he still be the same after the recessional is over? I have heard stories of husbands having personality changes after the marriage vow has been sealed. He doesn’t open the door for me anymore. He doesn’t sit me at the dinner table. The flowers have stopped coming. He doesn’t come home to dinner. He’d rather play golf on weekends. And then there’s the more extreme discovery that "oh no, my husband’s seeing not another woman, but another man. Ouch!

She realizes when she gets married that she will have a house full of responsibilities. When the children start coming, she will not only be a wife, but a mother. Will she be able to raise the children well? She will have to be Mother Courage? Mothers raise their children with much fervor compared to fathers. I wouldn’t say that fathers are negligent. But I guess child-raising is not exactly a fatherly matter. I remember attending an awards ceremony where practically all awardees, who were mostly middle-aged and prominent gentlemen, thanked their mothers for all the sacrifices they have made in raising them to be good children. More than any other opportunities that marriage has to offer, I suppose this is the greatest accomplishment of any mother. 

Then why get married and cry? I believe in romance. And I think it is the thought that she will be together with the love of her life forever that makes her cry. The tears are not of sadness, but of happiness. The trip down the aisle becomes a trip of a lifetime where there is no turning back. It is a fulfillment of her birth that one day she will find herself a husband. And she chooses to get married in June because June is the marriage month. It’s a tradition. But it beats the hell out of me how this "tradition" started. And why it became a tradition. So let it be. Can we question tradition? We may break tradition, but questioning it is like questioning the chicken or the egg. Some think it’s the rainy month. It’s cold. People like to snuggle in June. There’s logic here. I know of some people who accidentally get pregnant in June. Seriously now, in the 1400 and 1500’s, people only took a bath once a year. And that was in the month of May. At the turn of the calendar and with everybody feeling fresh, June became the perfect month to marry. On the other hand, June was also named after Juno the goddess of hearth and home and patroness of wives. So there. It’s June for the brides. 

I have a cousin, Raissa. She’s getting married soon. She will not be a June bride. She will be a December bride. And there it is again, the cold month. Time to snuggle and get warm. She cried on her engagement day. That was months ago and the tears already started. And I know her tears are those of happiness. She is so happy and excited that she will finally marry Mickey. Romance lives on. Romance completes life. Like people who will be married, Mickey and Raissa will also look forward to a happy lifetime. Marriage becomes a promise that at the end of a lifetime, when the sun begins to set, they will walk towards the afterglow, hand in hand because they will always be in love with each other as much as the first day they have been together. A friend recently got married in Boracay. After the ceremony, everybody rushed to the beach to have their sunset picture taken with Vinnie and Karen. I have an image of this picture in my mind. Sooner or later, people from this picture will fade away, but Vinnie and Karen will have their sunset together as always. Later that evening, I was with a married couple, Edgar and Celia. They already have grandchildren. Celia wanted to have some crepes. Quietly, Edgar left our group. When he came back he had some crepes for Celia. Now isn’t this middle-aged romance? Long after the vows have been sealed, romance still continues to bloom. 

Even if I believe in romance, there is fear. There will be dark days ahead. There will be truthfulness and dishonesty. Who says romance is all bliss? Roses come with thorns. Other than fear, there will be anger, pain and sadness. Romance is never a walk in the clouds. The clouds might dissolve and we’ll find ourselves plunging down to earth not only with a thud, but with broken bones and shattered hearts. But we will mend if we believe in love. I believe that one of the reasons why we are here is to love and be loved in return. I’m beginning to sound like Baz Luhrman. But that’s really it. And love is love. Whoever says love is mushy, and whoever says they haven’t cried because of love is a warthog, a scum of the earth, a fungus, a virus. And that’s all there is to it. Really.

Whether it’s June now or December or whatever month the happy couple chooses to marry in, love is all that matters. 

Marry when the year is new, he’ll be loving, kind and true,
When February birds do mate, you wed and dread your fate.
If you wed when March winds blow, joy and sorrow both you’ll know.
Marry in April when you can, Joy for Maiden and for Man.
Marry in the month of May, and you’ll surely rue the day.
Marry when June roses grow, over land and sea you’ll go.
Those who in July do wed, must labour for their bread.
Whoever wed in August be, many a change is sure to see
Marry in September’s shrine, your living will be rich and fine.
If in October you do marry, love will come but riches tarry.
If you wed in bleak November, only joys will come, remember.
When December snows fall fast, marry and true love will last.