My mom hates it when we are at the dinner table and I pull out my phone to check the time or a text message on the lock screen. I’m not even really doing anything other than looking for less than 3 seconds, and she scolds me and tells me to put it away. She says that dinner time is family time. I agree with that, but I don’t object to checking a lock screen for a few seconds. Yet, despite that, when we are having dinner with my dad and uncle, she will happily pull out her phone (which is a dumb phone, so there’s really nothing on it to “browse” other than names in an address book, which is quite pathetic) and start tinkering around with it right in her face. I tell her to put it away, and she gives me a dirty look and says she’s just looking. It’s fun to discipline your mother as she disciplines you. She is clearly paying no attention to what is being said, nor does she care. She just wants dinner to be done with as soon as possible so she doesn’t have to see my uncle anymore. She claims that my uncle doesn’t respect her because she’s from Vietnam. What she doesn’t realize is that it’s for different reasons that are far more legitimate… and they are really about how she’s treated Ed and me growing up and how he doesn’t agree with it.

Why are there so many layers of disgust and contempt and grudges in this family? I’ve heard of some pretty terrible things, such as my dad’s best friend Bob who died last year, and how he was in an ongoing lawsuit with his own brother about their father’s inheritance that he had left behind. Because Bob took the most care of his father in his old age, his dad decided to leave his large inheritance just to Bob. So Bob’s brother wasn’t happy with this and sued him. It was never settled before Bob died, so I’m sure that Bob’s brother is still pursuing it against Bob’s wife and son now. Granted, nothing has gotten that out of control with my family, but I’d say that in some cases, it’s even worse. There are problems and grudges that have never been addressed or resolved, and no one wants to do anything about it. My uncle tried his best to reconnect with my dad during his heart surgery, but it fell completely flat because my dad is so socially inept and cannot see that his younger brother was trying to be there for him. He just gives short responses and goes into his own little world, tinkering with his pills and pill case and sorting out his medications as though no one else is there.

I was walking up my parent’s block today from work, and the sun had just finished setting. I had a slight headache at the end of the work day, and I wasn’t wearing any glasses to see things clearly. But then I saw a figure who looked just like Ed from behind — same height and build. He was even in Ed’s default “going outside” outfit — a loose black jacket, a white shirt underneath, khaki-colored pants, and black shoes. His hair was cut just like Ed’s, and his walk was just like his. It was so uncanny… I couldn’t believe it. I kept walking toward him as he walked, and finally he turned so that I could see his face, and of course, it wasn’t my brother. The man was pulling keys out of his pocket to get into a car.

As the man drove off, I felt empty again. I know it’s ridiculous to think it could have been my brother, but he seemed just like Ed even down to his steps and the way he moved his arms around. There are probably clones of Ed everywhere walking around, just waiting for me to find them and hope that maybe one of them really is him. And then, as per usual, I will be disappointed and have to move on with my everyday life.

I saw Ed again last night. He seems to be making very frequent appearances in the last month. Maybe it’s because I’m thinking about him a lot every time I think about wedding planning.

I dreamt I was at my parents’ house in their living room, and I was staring at the mantle, where photos of us throughout our childhood are displayed. I glanced at one photo in particular, which was of the two of us at Spreckles Lake in Golden Gate Park, or what we called “the duck pond” that we visited often growing up. We used to go there with our mother, occasionally our father, our grandmother, and sometimes even my aunt and her three sons. Out of nowhere, the photograph in the frame starts playing a movie from our childhood. It’s like I’m seeing a complete reenactment with the photo frame as my mini television. I watch my brother and me play and yell and laugh, and together we feed the ducks their bits of stale bread that they gobble up. I see my mother get into the picture as she sees me getting ominously close to the edge of the lake, and Ed goes chasing a pigeon since he hates them.

These are the little moments that you never really forget.

Chris and I went to see a play yesterday afternoon called Winners. In it, a family struggles with a dad who has long been unemployed, a mother who has to step up to a higher level job (seemingly against her own will for the sake of the family), and ends up having a serious extramarital affair with her boss. The two kids have strained relationships with their parents, but they seem comfortable and seek solace with each other. One night, their parents come home late from the mom’s work event, and they are screaming at each other. The father is accusing the mother of cheating on him with her boss, and the mother screams and says, “I want a divorce!”

Both their older son and younger daughter are awake. The girl is in her brother’s room at the time, and they hear everything. They are both deadly silent after the outburst, and the sister starts to leave her brother’s room. “Where do you think you’re going?” the big brother asks. She comes back to the bed with him, and he wraps his arms around her to protect her.

I immediately started tearing up. I couldn’t help it. And then I started crying. Even the woman sitting next to me offered her little tissue packet to me and asked me if I was okay. That’s what big brothers do. When they know their sisters are scared or upset, they want to be there for them to protect them and make them feel better about the world, even if just for a little bit. That’s the way Ed was. I never shared any of my real “problems” or dilemmas with him. Part of the reason was because I knew anything I could call a “problem” would be nothing compared to his problems. The other reason is I’ve always known he’s a worrier like our mother, so I knew if I ever told him anything seriously wrong, he’d worry about me and even be paranoid, particularly given our distance.

My big brother is gone from this world, but his memory still strongly lives on, and every time I see a big brother with a little sister or sibling, I will be reminded of him and me together in the past.

I went to dinner with a friend tonight, when I learned that one his girlfriend’s best friends was planning her wedding for this summer. She’s already booked a date and venue and has purchased her dress. She’s in the process of working on wedding invitations and save the date cards. But she’s not engaged. Her boyfriend has not agreed to marry her or proposed, but he’s fully aware that she is planning their wedding for this August.

My belief that men and women should be equal makes me feel bad when I think, “but she’s not engaged.” A man doesn’t necessarily have to propose. In fact, I’ve been hearing more and more about women proposing to men, or men and women just agreeing to get married. It’s far more egalitarian. It’s not necessarily that gushy romantic “OMG” moment, but as time goes on, I’d like to think that “norms” will also evolve, as well. The other fact is that they could actually be engaged without a fluffy romantic male proposal. But to think that someone is going ahead to plan a wedding and even put down deposits for a venue completely freaks me out unless the couple has agreed to get married. It’s a very surreal and scary form of ultimatum. It’s basically not taking “no” for an answer. Most ultimatums I hear are something like, “Propose to me by X date, or I will leave you.” This ultimatum is more like, “I’ve already set a date, location, and put down deposits. Just get the damn ring and I’ll take care of everything else.”

This is the reason men think women are crazy about weddings and marriage.

But then again, maybe men should just grow up and stop flipping out at the idea of getting married and realize what kind of women they are choosing to be with.

I was thinking about getting old today. I’m not really sure what brought it up, but maybe it was because I was thinking about people who get married or stay in long-term relationships until the end of their lives versus the people who primarily are single all of their lives. I thought about my dad having his double bypass surgery and how terrible it would have been if he were having his surgery and knew no one was waiting in the waiting room for him, or no one would be there to take him home on the day of his discharge. I thought about how he needed help bathing his back and behind after his surgery since he was told not to reach, otherwise his chest incision could re-open, which wouldn’t be good. Other than the usual things you think about when you think of how great it is to be in a romantic relationship where you know someone is passionate about you, your body, and your mind, there are practical aspects to having a life partner. This person’s life and yours are about each other; you have a responsibility to be there for each other. When you aren’t in a long-term relationship when you are older, who’s going to be there for you to wash your butt when you can’t open your chest incision after bypass surgery? Your friends probably aren’t going to be raising their hands to help you, partly because they may “have their own lives” as people love to say. Your partner’s “own life” is your life.

Then I remembered being in the waiting room with my parents as we waited for my dad to get admitted for surgery in November. I remember one man who was admitting himself for some form of heart surgery; I couldn’t hear what kind. As he was signing in, the nurse asked him if he had anyone who needed a pager for updates for his surgery while he was in the operating room. He said no, but he had a son who “might” call in for a status after he got off work later that evening. He’d have to call to check if he was going to actually come in or call.

I felt so sad when I heard that. Yes, he has a son who’d probably be there for him when he was discharged (even that is uncertain from his tone of voice), but he had no one waiting for him. He had no one there to comfort him through his stressful surgery. He didn’t have anyone who would be sitting and waiting for updates on him in the OR while his chest was being opened up. That would be such a lonely world.

I don’t really love what I do for work. It’s just the honest truth. I suppose I’m decent at what I do. I solve problems. I spend a lot of time in Excel. I educate my clients and make them happy. I’m good at explaining technical things to non-technical people. I’m pretty good at creating processes and streamlining communication, if that makes any sense and doesn’t sound like bullshit to you. But at the end of the day, it isn’t what drives me. I don’t gush about my job and tell people it’s the best job in the world and that there’s nothing else in the world I would rather do. I also don’t think that my job does anything that majorly makes the world a better place. I’m not trying to cure cancer. I’m not cleaning up children’s wounds or resuscitating someone who could lose his life. I’m not even providing a meal for someone to enjoy and eat, even though I love doing that in my spare time.

I thought about this a lot the last few days, as I have been reaching out to wedding vendors — everyone from photographers to DJs to wedding coordinators. The wedding coordinators all seem to share a similar story when they write back to me — they started doing this as a one-time thing to help out a friend/sister/family member, and then suddenly it became a huge passion to the point that it became their main business. And there’s nothing else in the world they’d rather do.

I’m 29 years old, and I still don’t know what I want to do when I grow up. Why can’t I just research recipes and flower arrangements as my main job?

My mother is so excited I’m going to have a bridal shower. I think from the sound of her voice, she actually seems more excited about the bridal shower than she did about our engagement or even the freaking wedding.

Today, when I called her, she started rattling off all these names of Jehovah’s Witness friends she wants to invite to the bridal shower. “What?” I said. “Who are these people?”

“You’ve met (fill in random name) before,” Mom said. “It was a few years ago, so you probably don’t remember.”

“I don’t want random strangers at my bridal shower!” I exclaimed. “I want people I actually know and care about there!” (And frankly, that list is quite short).

She said I should do what I want, but she just had some suggestions for people who would make the event “more fun.” Why do I doubt that her people would make my bridal shower more fun? I reminded her that when you invite someone to your bridal shower, that usually means you must invite them to the wedding. Her response (seems to be common now): “Just because you invite people to your wedding doesn’t mean that they will come.”

Great.

What is it about football that gets everyone all excited, anyway? I don’t see anything that is really athletic or “skilled” about it. It seems to be a sport that gives men an excuse to get super fat and bulky and just tackle and get rough with each other. At least with a sport like baseball, which I don’t even like, I can actually see the skill and technique that goes into it. I’d say the same for sports like soccer (football in every normal country outside of the U.S.), basketball, tennis, etc. The men who play it don’t even run that much.

Maybe it’s Reprise and working on Hyundai and Kia ads for four years that ruined Super Bowl for me. Or maybe it’s the fact that I did advertising for Super Bowl all those years, and I always disliked football and the NFL in general.

It also doesn’t help that Super Bowl day is a day of the year that supposedly known to have one of the highest reported rates of domestic violence. Isn’t it interesting how rough “sports” like football bring out the worst in men?

As the wedding planning continues, it seems like Ed feels left out that he doesn’t get to be here to experience it, or at least listen to me talk about it. I had another dream that I saw him, this time dressed up in a light grey suit, wearing a very unattractive bright blue tie. Then, out of nowhere, all three of the cousins I grew up with are also wearing an identical suit with the exact same tie. Ed heads down the stairs out our family’s house, and all three of my cousins begin walking down, too. When I ask Ed where they are going, he says that they are all headed to a funeral. A mutual friend had passed away. When I asked who, he ignores me, and so do all of my cousins. I feel frustrated and start yelling, which slightly echoes on our block.

It’s been a strange period in my life, researching wedding venues, catering menus, and everything related, knowing that Ed won’t be there during this process or on the day we get married. I always anticipated that he’d ask really annoying questions about things like the menu, if our celebrant was going to be Christian, if I’d ever considered having a church wedding to be in the presence of God. The strangest thing was that the other night, I woke up in the middle of the night, and for a split second I thought I was at our parents’ house, in the room we shared, and I looked to my right expecting to see him sleeping there, but instead, Chris was sleeping beside me, and we weren’t in San Francisco; we were in our hotel room in Torrance for our LA weekend trip. I still have small moments where for a second, I forget he’s really gone, and then when it hits me, I not only feel stupid, but I get that same pain in my eyes that I felt when I knew for certain he was gone. It doesn’t last very long, but just long enough so that I know I’ll never get over losing him.