Romanticizing the Past

I am of the belief that as human beings we romanticize our past on a regular basis. As the years pass, the things that delighted us as children seem to become more important, more vivid somehow - yet, the things that caused us so much pain seem, conversely, less important. My sister used to ask a question to soothe my hurt feelings as a child - "In five years, will it still bother you, do you think?" Of course, the answer was almost always "no".
20 years have passed since I first donned a cap and gown and reached for my diploma. The second of my two class reunions is coming in just nine days, but the planning has been going on, in effect, for 2 years. I have eagerly awaited the reunion and often tell my newer friends how impressed I have always been with my graduating class - how even now, the ties that bind these individuals together is something more powerful than I can explain.
When I first attended Rhinelander High School, I was a troubled teen. My grades didn't suffer, but I was involved in things no teenager should ever be involved with during my days at Wausau East. I had my first bout with what I now know is deep, clinical depression, and went through a period of self destructive behavior that I'm surprised I survived. Outwardly, I scoffed at the idea of changing schools - but inwardly, I was quietly thankful for a new beginning - a chance to reinvent myself. And reinvent myself I did.
Within weeks, I'd begun to form friendships that unbeknownst to me at the time would last a lifetime. I found acceptance, happiness, and a sense of self worth I'd never known, becoming comfortable in my own skin at last. Instead of the financial class-driven society I'd known at East, these kids seemed to operate on an even keel, supporting one another and caring for one another more than I thought possible at such a precarious age.
As time has passed, I've attended every reunion and kept in touch with a surprising number of former classmates. Three of my high school girlfriends and I still have lunch once a month, and I email perhaps ten others on a fairly regular basis. Our 20 year reunion, I thought, would be more of the same.
About a year and a half after the reunion planning began, one small group of students began a campaign to have their own reunion, dissatisfied with the date we'd chosen, as it didn't accommodate their schedules, and from there, it all fell apart. Suddenly, I was 16 again, back at Wausau East, with sides being chosen, accusations hurled, criticisms grumbled to one another. It's been hard for me to believe that all of what I believed about the class of 1986 wasn't true at all - it was just a facade, crumbling around me.
I'm saddened that I had a part in the fractioning of this class. Sadder still am I that I could have been so terribly wrong about this group of seemingly unshakable friends. Were my perceptions so skewed - or has time simply changed us all?
I've run the gamut of emotion in regard to the reunion. First excited, then angry, then hopeful, then sad. And now.....what now? I don't know what I feel about it all. I've stopped romanticizing the past, certainly. I'm trying hard to forget the things that some people did say to me that hurt when I was the new girl in town all those years ago - things I'd forgotten, or chosen to forget, until this controversy arose. I guess I'll make the best of it, look forward to seeing those friends that still mean so much to me - and try to forget about the rest.
So, in five years will it matter, do you think? The answer will come - but for now, it escapes me.