I was sorting through a few things in my old drawer at my parents’ house this afternoon when I came home. I do have a number of my own belongings in the desk, but for the most part, my parents use it as additional storage. One familiar piece of gold card stock paper was on top of a bunch of other paper: my wedding program from almost two years ago now.
Obviously, I recognized it and immediately knew what it was. I read through it, as I hadn’t done that in a while even though I made a whole wedding scrapbook with all the random papers and things from that three-day period. But as my eyes traveled to the bottom, I read the one line that always made me so sad, even though I was insistent on having in on there: “In loving memory of Edward Y. Wong.”
The goal of having Ed everywhere at the wedding in different ways wasn’t intended to be a sad thing to do; it was a way to inject him into the wedding and be a part of it so that he’d still be a part of our life, even after his death. It was meant to be a celebration of him and his life, of what he meant to me. But I couldn’t help but tear up when I read this today. And then I just started crying. It’s been nearly two years since my wedding, and almost five years since he’s passed, but I still am not over it. It still makes me cry to think that he wasn’t at my wedding even though I clearly knew he was not. But to remember it stings so badly. It shocks me when I think of the time that has passed since he died. I always wonder even though it’s pointless if there was anything I could have said or done differently, if I could have expressed my love for him more. I think we both knew we were at the end when I started repeatedly telling him I loved him on the phone that July. I’d never done that ever. In fact, I don’t think I’d ever even told my brother I loved him verbally before that month. Maybe I could have hugged him more or called him more. I don’t know. But I think about it anyway.
I know most people didn’t care about him. They thought he was average and forgettable. Most of our relatives say they miss him, but do they really? Probably not to be honest. They thought he didn’t do anything with his life. But none of that matters to me because he’s my brother. I still love him. And I just miss him so much right now. Today’s just one of those hard days.