If Ed were alive today, he’d be turning 42 years old. It’s a sad thought every year when his birthday comes. I wonder who else thinks about him on this day. Do my parents actually think about him and think about him deeply? Or do they just think he wasted his life away as they always did say and think while he was alive?
Throughout this pregnancy, I’ve thought about him a lot, but I was especially grief-stricken when I went to visit him at the Columbarium when we went back to San Francisco last month. I “showed” him my pregnant belly, and Chris snapped a photo and video of the moment. And I just felt empty and blank. I didn’t feel angry. I didn’t feel resentful. I just felt nothing. My brother is never going to meet his little niece. If I ever have any other children, he will never meet any of them, either. He will never have the chance to be an uncle, and we will never have the chance to spend time as a family ever again. After staring blankly into his niche, I went into the bathroom and just cried.
I wish he could be alive and healthy. I wish our parents were more supportive of him. I wish they hadn’t antagonized him so much. I was chatting with my therapist about Ed a few weeks ago, and she suggested that it may not be fully fair to have lingering anger against my parents because some people, regardless of how much support they have, still end their lives. That is true, I admitted to her, but she and I have not spoken about the exact extent to which my parents antagonized, bullied, and made my brother suffer.
At the end of the day, “you feel what you feel.” I’ve made enough peace with my parents about Ed’s passing as I could, otherwise I would no longer have a relationship with them. But it should go without saying that he should still be here today.