I left Vancouver nearly six months ago. At once, it feels like a lifetime ago, and it feels like yesterday. During the past six months, I have sat at my desk, on my couch, or laid in bed wondering what might have been had I not left. Today, the answer is clear.
Today, had I not run for, and away from my life, I would be a married man. Today was my wedding day.
I can stand (were I not at my desk working) and say with confidence that I made the right decision ... for me, that is. You might wonder if I feel any regret or remorse for what I did six months ago. To a degree, yes, I do. I ruined the hopes and dreams of a human being, regardless of what she did to me. Today, she is thinking about what might have been. But I am not thinking of her.
I am thinking of me. I am thinking that I haven’t been this free and happy in over two and a half years. I have been responsible for my own choices, my own decisions, and my own mistakes. I am happy with who I have become, and with who I am.
Weddings are supposed to be one of the happiest days in someone’s life. Many of my friends (nearly all of my university friends) are now married. I think I am one of a very small handful who are not. I have only been to two weddings so far — that of a co-worker, and I was dragged to the other. I missed two weddings I was invited to because of financial reasons. I missed seeing these happy days.
Yet as I sit here and type, I cannot imagine a happier day for myself. I wake up each and every day and am thankful for what I did. Yes, these past couple of weeks have been very difficult on myself, with tight deadlines and a heavy workload, but even though I might gripe about my workload, I am truly happy. I would hope everyone can feel at least as much joy as I do, for it is truly exhilarating.
Today is also the wedding day of one of my former colleagues at Radical Entertainment ... of one of my friends. Right now, she is probably in Quebec, saying her vows to her long-time partner. (This is more speculation, as plans change and I haven’t spoken to her since I left. Not to mention that I don’t know what time the ceremony is supposed to be.) For them, I raise my cup in toast. (I hope you don’t mind warm, stale Coke — it’s all I have at the moment.)
Today used to be a date I dreaded would one day come. But it came without fanfare, and it would have come without notice, had I chosen not to say something. It is an ordinary day, like any other. And I will revel in it, just as I have every other ordinary day, because there is nothing more special than happiness.