In every state in Australia with the exception of Queensland, it’s illegal to hold a koala. The main rationale behind this is that although koalas appear to be cuddly and cute, little does the average person know that these marsupials have quite sharp claws that could easily be used to claw our eyes out if we do not handle them properly. They weren’t really made to be held by human beings. I was pretty disappointed by this when I visited Taronga Zoo in Sydney two years ago and found out that I couldn’t hold one, but if I wanted to shell out $25 AUD, I could just pose in a picture with one perched on a branch. I passed.

Since we were in Queensland and I’d read about the Lone Pine Koala Sanctuary, I figured this was my chance to finally hold one. I was wearing the wrong clothing today, though, and was in a sleeveless dress. I wasn’t even thinking about my clothes when queuing up to hold the koala. As soon as the koala latched onto me, its claws dug into my shoulder for grip, and I realized how crazy and clingy (in a bad way) these guys could be. I pet my koala for a few seconds, and my image of koalas being incredibly soft quickly died, as his fur was far more bushy than I’d envisioned.

I will keep admiring them from afar, but my fantasy with holding a koala has now been fulfilled. I suppose this is the touristy excitement for a visitor to Australia in the same way Bubba Gump’s could be for someone visiting the U.S.

I woke up at 3:15am this morning to make my dad breakfast since I had to leave at 4 to catch my flight back to New York. I prepared oatmeal for him — three parts water to one part soy milk, mixed in ground flax seed, oat bran, and chia seeds, and grated apples to get some fruit and sweetness in. I mixed it up in a pot and left it on the stove. I fed his fish their separate types of food in their two tanks and cleaned up the kitchen before my mom had a chance to get up to see me off. Before I left, I went into his bedroom to say goodbye. He hadn’t slept very well last night because of one of the eleven medications he’s on as a result of the surgery, and he had to wake up to pee almost every hour, so I knew he’d be awake. I told him to take care, remember to do his breathing exercises, not to cross his legs where his graft wounds were healing, and that I’d call him when I got back to New York. I kissed his forehead and said, “I love you, Daddy.” He waited a moment and responded, “I love you.” And I left.

It’s only the third time I’ve told my dad verbally “I love you.” He wasn’t raised in a family where words like that were spoken. The first time I said it was just last year when I got home after Ed passed away. I told him that then, and for the first time, he said it back. The second time, I said it in the pre-operation room last week before the doctors gave him his anesthesia for the surgery.

My feelings around my family are complicated… because while I enjoy spending time with them, I reach my limits very quickly and realize how much they can exacerbate me with their set ways and their narrow views of the world. But I love my dad. It terrified me to think that I could have lost him to a heart attack; I’m still shaken by the idea because it’s always been a lingering fear in the back of my mind given our family history and his age. But this surgery is one step in the right direction — to repair his heart physically, but also hopefully, emotionally, as well.

Dear Ed,

I can’t believe it’s been a year since you decided to leave this world. In fact, even though you decided to leave me exactly one year ago, one year ago today, I was not even aware that you made this decision to leave and jump off that bridge. I was at home, on the phone with my friend and eating dinner. I thought it was just any other night. I had gotten off the phone with our mother just a bit before, and I was telling her about my plan to go to Toronto with Chris to visit his brother that following weekend. And then a couple hours later, she calls and leaves a calm, urgent voice message, and when I call her back, she tells me that you are missing.

It wasn’t until tomorrow one year ago that I knew for a fact that you were missing… and dead. I knew it. I could feel it. I can’t remember any other 16-hour period of my life that was worse than that time, when I felt more helpless and like I could do nothing at all. I just kept hoping and hoping in my mind that you were still out there somewhere, breathing, eating, walking — just alive. The world became a blur to me and nothing else really mattered as long as I knew that you were fine.

And then our dad called me early afternoon on the 23rd and confirmed the terrible news. And I honestly just felt like dying at that moment. I wasn’t sure if or how our parents or I could get through this. How was I supposed to live knowing that you, my big brother, decided life wasn’t worth living anymore and committed suicide? How could I live with myself always wondering that if I maybe had done one extra thing for you or said or not said something else that maybe you’d still be with us today?

It was like my whole life changed from that point onward. My hatred and anger for our family increased exponentially – for all of its dysfunction and negativity and lack of genuine care. My levels of sensitivity heightened to a point where I was always finding myself tearing up or crying over things that I’d never really gotten emotional about before. My impatience became greater, and I found myself getting more irritated by sayings or people that I never would normally have issues with. My consciousness of what it means to be “empathetic” grew, but mostly because I felt like 90% of everyone around me had no idea what the hell that word even means or how they were supposed to act around me knowing that I had just lost you, and not just lost you in a “natural” way, but to suicide. I was already someone who had a smaller group of friends, but it’s like this happening only proved how much smaller that group had to be in my life because I didn’t like the way a lot of people responded to me after that.

I want you to know that despite all the pain and tears in the last year that I’m not mad at you for leaving. In fact, I can’t even remember a time when I was angry with you in the last 365 days. I can’t blame you for not wanting to be a part of this world. I feel this spiraling sadness and feel even worse when I think of how lonely you must have felt all those years because no one really understood you, and I wasn’t physically there enough to comfort and encourage you. I still have moments when I curse myself and think I didn’t do enough as a sister to help you. You’re the only one in my life who would be happy for me because you just are and because you love me, not because you have anything to gain from it. You’re the only one who could understand me in your exact way because we grew up in the same house with the same parents. You’re the only person who will ever have the exact same blood in his veins as me.

A lot of people think that because I’ve gotten a new job, done a lot of traveling, continued socializing and working on different projects that I’m just fine without you, that maybe the pain isn’t there anymore, that maybe you are no longer top of mind to me. Only morons would think that way. I think about you every single day, if not every single hour, even if just for a second. Even though you died, I have to move on with my life to make sure I can stay sane, to prove to you that life is worth living and amazing things really can happen on this earth. You left too early, Ed. You didn’t even stick around long enough for Chris and me to take you out to Indian food to celebrate your 34th birthday. Well, I’ll admit — that’s something I’m kind of pissed about.

Did you see us when we were in Brazil, and Chris proposed on Sao Conrado beach with all of those hang gliders constantly landing on that brilliant white sand? I thought about you a lot that day. I’ve thought about you a lot every time I share the proposal story because I wish I could have called you to tell you myself and hear you get excited for me…. because I know you would have been despite the profound sadness that enveloped you. I’ve caught myself tearing up when I share the story because I always remember you and how you will never physically be here for me to tell, and you will not be here the day we get married.

It’s okay, though. I always feel you, and in my heart, you will never be dead. You still live on in me, in my life, and all over San Francisco whenever I go back. I love you and miss you so much, Ed. I hope you always remember that wherever you are and no matter where I am. Life has to end, but love doesn’t. Our love will never, ever end. And I will see you again — in this life, sadly only in my dreams, and in the next life, when you are waiting for me to join you when I am ready.

Love,

Yvonne

Tonight, one of my best friends and I were on FaceTime chatting for over 2.5 hours about work, life, wedding planning, and travel. It’s so weird that it’s been almost two years since she got married in Maui and moved to Singapore. That means it’s been two years since I planned her bridal shower and bachelorette party in Vegas, gave two maid of honor speeches at her two wedding receptions (one far better and memorable than the other… I still have deep regrets about not better planning the second one), and went dress shopping and fitting with her.

Now that I am engaged, she wants to do whatever she can from a distance to help, whether that means being on standby at her phone as I try on wedding dresses here so that I can Whatsapp her photos to get her feedback, or providing Excel sheet templates she used for planning her own two weddings, or being at potentially two wedding celebrations that we may have in two very different parts of the world — for me. All of this is making me really emotional as I hear her say all of these things.

That’s the thing about old friends. Even when parts of me may feel like we are growing apart, do not understand each other a lot of the time, and have a lot of differences, I have moments like this when I realize how much they really do care about me and want to do whatever is possible for me to be happy. And I can’t help but be overwhelmed with gratitude that there are people in my life who do care this much. Not everyone is as lucky as I am.

Chris’s parents are elated over our engagement. According to Chris’s mum herself, she says that they are so happy, “bursting at the seams,” and are ready and waiting to help in whatever way they can. It’s the most heart-warming feeling to know that I have in-laws that care and love so deeply that they cannot help but share all of their happy thoughts and desires with us about what they can do to help with wedding planning.

Yesterday, she e-mailed me to ask if I could share two specific photos with her of Chris and me. One is from Portland when we went to visit a beautiful waterfall at the Columbia River Gorge, and another one is of the two of us very recently when we were in Pennsylvania and visited Frank Lloyd Wright’s Fallingwater private residence. I wondered for a bit what she could be using these photos for, and then it dawned on me that she is probably sharing photos of the two of us to their 500 or so Indian relatives all over the world, particularly to those who have not seen Chris for some time and who have no idea I exist or what I look like. I wonder if they will wonder how Chris ended up with an Asian? And then, maybe they will wonder if I will wear a sari at the wedding? That actually isn’t a bad idea and excited one of my friends today, as it was her suggestion to make my wedding “unforgettable.” Well, obviously, this friend is not Indian. 🙂

We left Arizona this afternoon and had to come back to gloomy, rainy New York, which is still keeping spring at bay for us. I am still obsessing over how gorgeous it is in Arizona and how even more excited I am to see the rest of the American Southwest. There are endless scenic trails to hike, red rocks everywhere, and cactus that grow up to 100 feet tall here. We were lucky during this trip and saw a rattlesnake, a hare, a lizard, and a running deer. Whenever people scoff and say that there’s nothing to see in the United States outside of places like L.A, San Francisco, New York, or Chicago, this crazy fury comes over me. I’ve been to all of those places and more, and I still feel like I have so much left to see of this beautiful country. Arizona is the 31st state I’ve visited, but in just 2.5 days, I actually barely saw any of it. It was like a quick flirtation that had to come to an abrupt end. It’s sad to think that most Americans, who are already the least traveled people on earth, wouldn’t even appreciate the varied beauty of their own country that they call home.

Every time I visit home, I can expect that my dear mom, because she loves me so much, will try to pack as much food and gifts as possible that will fit into my luggage and carry-on bag. Some of this stuff would be packaged and thus easy to pack, liked green tea or dried shiitake mushrooms, but others are actually for immediate consumption – grape tomatoes, avocados, oranges, and even takeout dim sum (this time, it was six ha gow, six siu mai, four zhong, four cha siu bao, and three lao po bing). I’m probably the only passenger who ever gets on an SFO > JFK flight with that much fresh food in their carry-on backpack. In reference to the cha siu bao or zhong, my mom says, “It’s better made here!” Or in reference to the avocados or oranges, she exclaims, “they’re cheaper in San Francisco than in New York!” That’s how much my mom loves me. She wants me to constantly eat to my heart’s content, especially when she is not there to feed me.

So the oddest thing I brought back this time around was a bottle of Endless Youth Beautiful Skin Complex daily multivitamins. No, my mom was not duped into buying these; they were actually mistakenly delivered to one of my dad’s rental properties along with some Wen hair products, so my mom took them home and decided to keep some, give some to her friends, and then give me the bottle of vitamins. While having all the usual vitamins that a regular multivitamin is supposed to have, it also claims to have “healthy skin support.” So before I decided to start taking them, Chris has me look them up, and apparently when Googled, you find this under “rip off reports,” for giving you a free sample bottle in exchange for signing up for a monthly supply, and then making it nearly impossible for you to unsubscribe. I guess it’s not a very honest business.