Tonight, we are packing our bags for our Thanksgiving trip to Berlin and Hamburg. I’m absolutely obsessed with Christmas markets, and when I found out about the famous German Christmas markets during a visit to a mini Christkindlmarkt in Chicago in 2009, I knew I had to go to Germany around Christmas time to see this for myself.

I’ve decided to pack my teal peacoat for the trip. It’s made of thinsulate, so even though it is slimming, it is actually quite warm. I still remember the first time Ed saw me wear it last winter. He saw the color and said, “What is this? Why did you get a coat that color?” And then a few minutes later: “Would you consider returning it?” My brother thought that all jackets and coats should be black, brown, or some color in between. He was not a huge fan of colorful or bright clothing. In fact, when I remember now, pretty much all of his clothes were black, brown, tan, white, grey, or some shade of blue.

Since then, though, I’ve probably purchased even brighter colors since I’ve been trying to mix up what I wear and be more creative. Maybe the earthly Ed wouldn’t have liked it, but I think that the Ed I imagine in heaven would like it a lot, especially when he thinks about his petite little Asian sister walking through the throngs of people in Hamburg and Berlin, standing out in her bright teal peacoat. I’d be hard to miss, right?

Tonight, Chris and I went to Yuji Ramen at Whole Foods on Bowery for their eight-course ramen omakase. We sat at their counter at Whole Foods, where only six of us were allowed at a time to be served by Yuji himself. We were served ramen in the shape of shells, ramen broth from a French coffee press, and monkfish liver filled ramen shaped like candy topped with freshly grated wasabi. It was a really unique tasting experience, especially coming from a Japanese guy who always thought he didn’t even like ramen.

While on one of the final courses, I realized that my rich mussel broth ramen had a tiny dead fly floating on the top. I alerted one of Yuji’s helpers, who got Yuji’s attention to make me a new bowl. It reminded me of the time when (I think) it was my 20th birthday, and my cousins, uncle, and Ed took me to Chapeau!, a really quaint French restaurant in the Richmond in San Francisco. When my dessert came to the table, I started digging in, only to realize that there was a long hair lying across my little cake. Ed was trying to get the attention of the waiter so that he could bring me a new dessert, but because I liked the taste of the dessert so much, I obliviously just kept on eating it. “Stop eating that!” Ed scolded me.

Ed would have been pretty upset if he saw that dead fly in my mussel broth tonight. I wish he could have real ramen with me just once.

Today was my second session with the therapist. We spent more time during this appointment going through my family tree and discussing the people in my life who I considered my support in the last few months, how they supported me, and how that support may have changed as time has passed. We discussed some of the grudges that people in my family continue to hold despite some incidents having happened over 40-50 years ago, and how those grudges have somehow been passed down to later generations.

While discussing all this, I started thinking about Christmas gifts. This seems completely unrelated, but the main reason I thought about this is that I don’t really want any gifts. What would be great is if we stopped obsessing over what to give and buy people for Christmas (in other words, creating a very unnecessary stress fest during a time that should be joyous) and instead gave people something that money cannot buy – our time. It’s trite, but it’s so true. If we gave more of ourselves and our time to be with the ones who really matter (not the people you are “obligated” to be around. I really mean the people who matter to you), we would be happier as a people. If all my friends offered their ear to listen to my frustrations and stopped telling me to just see a therapist because as a “professional” she should be able to shed insights that my friends could not, I think that would be enough.

I told my uncle in an e-mail the other day that I had a meeting with a therapist this week. His basic response to this was that he understands how I feel, but I should be aware that our family is not that only dysfunctional family that is out there, and there’s no such thing as a perfect family. Even families that seem like they are fine have secrets that they tend to hide from outsiders. And he sent me this link so that I could see what a functional vs. dysfunctional family would be like.

It’s true that there’s no such thing as a perfect family, but that doesn’t mean that there shouldn’t be opportunities for me to find ways to better understand the dynamics of my family and why they are the way they are. I don’t want to be like the rest of the members of my family who continue to hold all this pent up anger in them about how they were raised and what they were deprived of. It’s led to generations of misery. Frankly, I went through the list in that link, and my family meets probably 3/17 of what makes a family “functional,” and if I had to include my extended family, it meets even less of them. Knowing that there are other very dysfunctional families out there shouldn’t be my justification for accepting things as they are today.

Since the spring, I’ve been subscribing to Birchbox, an internet company that will send subscribers generous, high-end samples of cosmetics, skincare, and even occasionally accessories and food items for $10 per month. It’s like a way to discover new products and things that are compatible with your face, skin, and style without exploring these things in a store. I’ve discovered a lot of things through it that I really like, and I’m going to admit now that I spend a decent amount of time on their main e-commerce site and blog reading about new products and skincare tips. I suppose you could say it’s like a guilty pleasure to click on their Twitter bit.ly links and spend too much time reading and looking at sparkly girly things.

I started thinking about the pleasure I get out of receiving my monthly Birchbox in the mail and reading the blog, and it made me realize that immersing myself in these activities, because of the fact that I don’t have to think too hard about it and it causes me absolutely no stress – it’s almost like a nice distraction from reality itself. When I’m reading about how to use a highlighter pencil or looking at the latest Essie shades, I momentarily forget about life’s problems and stresses and pains, and I just live in the moment of these seemingly trivial pursuits. Maybe we all need some form of this in limited quantities to stay sane.

Anyway, Ed would probably be happy if he knew I was doing this. He always used to scold me and say I didn’t indulge myself enough. I guess this is my small monthly indulgence that I hope Ed is smiling about up there.

I think that I’ve finally accepted that Ed isn’t with us anymore. I’ve accepted how he passed, how I will never see or touch or hug or kiss my brother ever again. I’ve accepted that he will never breathe again, that I will never be able to watch him sleep peacefully with that slightly troubled look on his face as I did this last March. I’ve accepted that I’m not going to give him another Christmas or birthday gift again.

That doesn’t mean I don’t hate it. I absolutely hate it, and I’m still angry about it. I’m mad at everyone who didn’t take his illness seriously and anyone who set him aside as someone who wasn’t “important enough” to talk to or get to know.

But then on the flip side of that, I’m also really grateful to the people who did treat him very well and did try to get to know him, people like my closest friends, my Chris, and the pastor at his church.

Ed doesn’t want me to be angry all the time. I know he just wants his “strong” little sister to be happy, so I’m going to try my best, for his sake, to not be angry at the world for him… because he wouldn’t have wanted that.

This week has been pretty miserable emotionally. I’m sure it’s a combination of a lot of things – Daylight Savings Time and the pitch black sky when I leave the office for the day, the colder temperatures, the fact that I know that Thanksgiving and Christmas are coming, and they will be the first Thanksgiving and Christmases that Ed will not be able to see. I used to think that maybe this year or the following, I’d go home for Thanksgiving or buy Ed a plane ticket to come to where I was so that we could have Thanksgiving together as family. I haven’t been home for Thanksgiving since my senior year of high school in 2003. None of those potential plans will ever have the chance of happening again.

But then I remember how miserable last Thanksgiving and Christmas were for Ed because I wasn’t home for either holiday, and none of my cousins or aunt or uncle acknowledged him or came home to see him. Actually, no one even called him or sent him a gift for Christmas except me. I was in Australia and still made sure to call him on his Christmas day.

The world isn’t a better place without Ed, but somehow, I have a feeling he is probably in a better place for himself because this world was never kind or good enough to him. Maybe once, I can appreciate someone’s selfishness to end his life, as some people would call it. But it’s sad when even your family fails you.

Chris had his first ever dream of Ed the other night. The three of us were sitting in a very bright white room, and we were planning something while laughing and joking around. Oddly in the dream, Ed appeared very muscular with very defined biceps. Ed was a pretty skinny guy (though looks are deceiving, as he was very strong); it never mattered how much he ate because he’d always pretty much stay the same size. And he ate quite a lot! After he began practicing karate, he definitely became more fit and tone, and his arms became more muscular. But from the way Chris describes it, Ed would be like the next Iron Man with his new biceps.

Maybe we met him in heaven in that dream together. I always imagined heaven would be a bright place that was mostly white. Ed’s skin would be really clear, and he’d have the super masculine body he may have always wanted. He’d have 20/20 vision and never have to wear glasses again, his teeth would remain straight and white without a need for his retainers, and most importantly, he’d constantly be smiling and laughing, as though he knew how to do nothing else.

I’ve realized that as I’ve gotten older, I actually appreciate and enjoy Halloween a lot more than I did when I was younger. Maybe part of that is because Halloween wasn’t something my parents embraced. While other kids had fancy jack-o-lanterns with their cool stencils and cheap pumpkin cutting sets, my dad was cutting up our pumpkins with a big kitchen knife (that was so dangerous… and never to be repeated ever again). And when other kids got excited about their new costumes, homemade or not, each year, I had to pick one costume at kindergarten that was supposed to last me through my schooling (no matter that at age 10, I would very likely be much bigger than I would be at age 5…). All I remember of Ed is that he wore a Garfield mask a few years in a row when my dad would take us trick-or-treating in the neighborhood.

Halloween is one of those holidays that has appeal to almost everyone because it gives you the ability to be something or someone else for a day – and express your creativity in doing so. While I will not look forward to the cavities my future kids may get from all the freaking candy they will have gathered during their trick-or-treating, I will be excited to encourage their creative side in costuming up for Halloween and designing the most stunning and elaborate jack-o-lanterns possible. Ed would have enjoyed that.

The one cousin on my dad’s side I have who I didn’t really grow up with has been reaching out to me recently in light of Ed’s passing. The funny thing about us is that even though we didn’t spend much time at all together during our childhoods, we have a lot in common. We’ve been sharing lengthy e-mail exchanges about the drama and sentiments around his father’s passing, my brother’s passing, and our generally dysfunctional wider family that we are entwined in. He also has left the Bay Area to pursue a happier, more hopeful life with his wife.

He has told me that although it may be hard and painful, sometimes cutting out the negativity, even if that means shunning some family members, is what we may need to fully heal and give ourselves a chance at happiness. When there are too many negative influences around us – those who complain and do nothing about their grievances, those who self-loathe, those who do nothing proactive to help themselves or help others, we get weighed down by them and consciously or subconsciously become like them.

I know this is necessary, but it’s always good to have someone who can remind you from time to time to make sure you are actually following through on this.