The wedding I can’t attend

When I was a wide-eyed teenager, I remember watching “Bride Wars.” Like many girls my age at the time, I grew up dreaming of planning my wedding day with my best friend—a seemingly far-fetched idea at that stage of life.

From choosing the wedding venue to planning the theme and curating a wedding playlist, it was all imagined, even without the presence of a groom. I watched countless romantic comedies from the 2000s and devoured young adult books to fuel my romantic fantasies. Maybe it was delusional, but it was also hopeful.

Now, as I approach the end of my 20s, after a few failed relationships, I realize I’m nowhere near that dream. But more than that, I won’t be attending the wedding of the person with whom I shared nearly half my life.

She’s the one who watched me dream of becoming a doctor and then witnessed me change paths. The one who grew with me as we navigated high school, college, and professional life together. The one who saw me fail countless times but always helped me get back up. The one I shared my past with, but not my future.

I always knew those childhood dreams were just that—dreams. But I never imagined that I wouldn’t be at the wedding of the person who walked through it all with me.

Words can’t fully express the bittersweet feeling of being happy for someone, even when you’re no longer part of their life. The dream still lives—she’ll get married, and I will, too, in time. But those two girls who were once inseparable, trying to make sense of life, no longer stand by each other through the wins and losses.

I guess that’s just how life goes. Along the way, we lose people we thought we’d have in our lives forever. Boyfriends came and went for both of us. I’d think, “I’ll be okay with whatever life throws at me,” as we sat together crying over every heartbreak.

I remember skipping class one day because she’d found out something devastating about her relationship. We spent the whole time at McDonald’s, eating fries and processing her pain. She was the person I called when I needed to be honest about falling out of love with my long-term boyfriend. We pieced together my confusing emotions and tried to make sense of them. We’ve long since healed from these heartbreaks, but I still remember how at peace I felt knowing I wasn’t alone in my pain—that we could figure it out together.

There were countless moments when we’d cry, and five minutes later, we’d be laughing out loud. That’s what it was like with her. No matter how painful things got, I knew everything would be okay because we had each other to navigate life’s ups and downs.

I always thought it was a given—that I’d be a part of her wedding no matter what. I looked forward to the day I’d help plan her engagement, go with her to get her nails done, and watch her cry tears of happiness alongside family and friends. Those things did happen—just without me.

I suppose it was wrong to assume I’d be there, witnessing her beam with joy on her special day. I knew how much she dreamt of her wedding day and how perfectly organized it would be. With her incredible attention to detail, it was always a running joke that I’d copy her wedding suppliers when my time came.

I knew this day would come—when my best friend of 15 years would be overjoyed to be proposed to by the love of her life. I just didn’t expect to see it all unfold through pictures.

Now, as she marries her best friend, I have nothing but well wishes for her. I’m grateful for the time we spent growing up together. Now, it’s time for both of us to move forward into the next chapters of our lives.

But in my heart, I know the last words I said to her still hold true—that no matter what, even if we haven’t spoken in years, if she ever needs me, I’ll be there in a heartbeat. After all, I still dream of those two girls who watched “Bride Wars” and thought that could be them. I think of the girls who sat in her childhood bedroom, nursing heartbreak with fries and tears.

Healing takes many forms. I know it’s been a long time since she started healing from the pain I caused her. And this, perhaps, is how I’ll find closure in the story of me and my best friend. I truly wish her nothing but the best in life. And one day, I hope I’ll find the same.

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Jessa Barbosa, 28, is a health-care worker who writes for fun.