The ghost at the altar...

I hate that Emily won’t be at my wedding… well, if I ever have a wedding.
I was at one over the weekend, and I was watching the bride and her sister. Every so often they’d make a face at each other, or something silly. It is so something Emily would do. I’d be a nervous wreck, and she would be… well, Emily.

But what was really tearing at me is that I never wanted her to be my maid of honor. Does that sound horrible? Probably. But it’s true. I always intended to have her in my wedding as a bridesmaid… but not the maid of honor. I guess just because of our past, and the way things had been strained for awhile. I wanted my maid of honor to be someone that, well—liked me. And in another way--- someone responsible. Emily was many things, but responsibility and attention to detail was not one of her gifts.
Of course, it’s not like I’m even planning a wedding, or even remotely close to it. Who knows, knowing me… I may have just given in and taken the path of least resistance. Emily was a force to be reckoned with, and sometimes it was easier to just not fight it.

But now the choice has been made for me. And I feel so guilty. Because you see—I pretty much told her that once. We were talking about weddings and such, and she made the comment about how at least I didn’t have to decide on a maid of honor, because it was going to be her. Well that in itself ruffled my feathers, and so I told her that just because she was my sister didn’t mean she automatically got to be it. Just like I wasn’t assuming that I would be hers. I don’t know if she ever quite forgot that I had said that to her. And it hurts even more now because when it all comes down to it…..

I bet she would have had me as her maid of honor. And not because she felt like she had to either.

There’s a word for people like me… JERKS.