I’m not really keeping my brother’s suicide a secret. When people have asked how he passed, I tell them. I won’t necessarily tell them that he jumped off the most beautiful bridge in the world immediately, but I do tell them that it was self-inflicted. There’s too much stigma and secrecy around mental health, depression, and suicide, particularly in the Asian community. I’m completely fed up with it and want it to stop NOW. Anyone who cannot accept that these things exist, are important, and need attention and treatment should probably not be permitted to ever procreate… or in my own humble opinion, breathe.

For the most part, almost everyone in my life has been sympathetic and understanding about this. The few responses I have received, though, that tried to be sympathetic ended up falling quite flat because they were insensitive. One person asked, “Were you aware that he was facing these issues?” in a tone of voice that would imply that I did not do enough. No kidding I was aware, you moron. I’m his sister who actually spent time with him, communicated with him way more often than you ever tried to, and is in massive pain now – a type of pain that I wish NO ONE can relate to. The last thing I really need is anyone trying to imply that my family and I did not do enough, particularly when these people had barely given my brother a minute of their day in the last six months. You have regrets about not speaking to him as often? Good – then you will feel maybe one one-millionth of the pain I feel then.

Another long-time friend of mine, who I’ve never found to be particularly mature or empathetic, responded to his passing (and particularly the cause of death) as though it was like I just lost a job or failed an exam in school. Then she changed the subject. A word of advice to anyone who is trying to be a comfort for their loved one when she has lost her sibling to suicide: losing a life is not just an “I’m sorry” moment with a frown on your face. It’s a “I-need-to-do-everything-I-am-humanely-possible-to-be-there-for-this-person-and-show-I-give-a-damn.” And if you can’t do that, you are not a worthy friend.

It’s really true: in times of greatest obstacles and tragedy, you really learn who the people around you truly are. Sometimes, it really stinks to see how insensitive and shallow some people are, but in other cases, it’s amazing to feel so blessed to have certain people in my life.

Right after I learned that Ed had left this world, I immediately felt a sense of hatred for pretty much everything. The world became disgusting to me, and things for the next few weeks seemed like they were not real. Even little things I’d do like walk across the street or wait for a traffic light felt surreal. I remember during that week, as I’d step off the sidewalk to cross the street, I thought about the idea of dying; because I knew Ed was already in heaven, I thought, if I were to die at this very second because some reckless driver didn’t slow down enough or pushed on the gas too quickly, it wouldn’t be so bad because I know he’d be there waiting for me, and we could keep each other company and be together forever in a pain-free world.

The truth is that I’ve never really been as scared of dying as I’ve observed others to be; it’s not that I want to die or have no fears about it; it’s that relatively speaking, I don’t seem to be as freaked out by it. I love life and have loved a lot of people and done many things I am proud of, and I have no regrets. But the second my brother was confirmed to be gone, death seemed even less scary and perhaps even more approachable if you could call it that. No offense to Ed, but I hope I do not have to join him anytime soon in that way. Really, I know he is always there with me. He would talk about me to his church acquaintances and friends and tell them how strong his little sister was. He always loved me that much. I can’t imagine a greater pain in life than what I am going through now, so I hope that because I am enduring this that he has attained the ultimate peace and happiness in a place up there where no one can harm him, and only love exists.

Sometimes in the last four weeks since Ed has left us, I get these pangs of guilt when I am laughing about something or enjoying the moment. I suppose it’s rational given all of the things I have read about the grief one feels after a loved one has committed suicide, but I still feel awful about it. I’m sitting here, enjoying the fresh air or laughing about something funny that someone has said, and Ed is never going to be able to do that on this earth ever again.

A lot of people have reached out directly and indirectly to me, through Chris or my friends, to give their condolences. Today, I even received a sympathy card from my seventh grade English teacher, which was really sweet, especially since I haven’t even seen her since I was probably 14. I know that there is nothing that they can say or do to make things better, and although it is nice of them to acknowledge this at all, I’m not sure if I feel better or worse when people do this. I am happy that they said anything at all, but then the other part of me just feels like, oh, poor me. No pain I’ll ever feel will come close to the daily struggles that Ed faced pretty much his whole life. Now that he is gone, I feel even more helpless, as though I could have done more, but just didn’t know what exactly to do… And now, it’s too late. I really just hope that in his last moments, he knew how much I loved him and just wanted him to be happy. I always told him that. I hope he is happy in heaven now and drinking all the margaritas he never got to drink on earth.

Since I was as young as eight, I’ve been extremely diligent about putting on sunblock with a high SPF. Part of it was because of the worry around skin cancer, and the other part of it is more vain; I was concerned about sun spots and pre-mature wrinkling. Sadly, in the last four weeks since Ed’s passing, I’ve realized that I’ve developed my first fine lines on my forehead. They are small, but I know as a fact they are there.

You learn a lot of things about yourself when you experience great tragedies. You learn what the phrase “rock bottom” actually means in the context of your own life, you learn how family and friends react and how much they love you (or don’t, and then you dump those disgusting people and curse them out of your life), and you also learn how your body physically responds. In my case, I suppose the lines could be a result of this. Another thing that happened was that I found out that you can actually get broken blood vessels under your eyes from crying too much. I also lost weight during the short time I was back home despite eating more (when you are at my mom’s house, you have to eat more. She doesn’t care if you are grieving or not. It’s her house, and you do what she says, so EAT). Everything has a response to your tragedies even when you least expect it.

Today, we flew into Milwaukee for the weekend to explore Wisconsin for the first time. Of course, Bart came with us (he especially liked the antelope sausage starter we had at a gastropub tonight). During the evening, we were walking by the river in the Historic Third Ward and taking pictures, and I stopped when I saw a dad playing with his young sons and snapping photos of them playing and being silly. The boys were constantly smiling, laughing, and joking around together, and they just looked so innocent and unknowing of all the bad in the world. In that moment, I felt so lonely and sad.

Ed was once like that – carefree, full of smiles and laughter – just the way every little boy should be. Every now and then when I would come home, I used to look specifically at baby albums of Ed’s and just wish that he could get back some of that joy he had when he was little. And now that he is gone, the photos I have are all I really have left of him. Forever in my head, I will remember him as being 33. I looked at photos of him and compared them from 2004, 2007, 2008, 2011, and 2012, and he looks virtually the same in every shot. It’s like my brother didn’t know how to age because he was that innocent and pure. He is ageless now. I can’t believe that we aren’t going to grow old together.

Today was another crappy day for me. I went through periods when I just kept tearing up at the most random things, and I felt upset even looking at the clouds in the sky from my window view because I was wondering what Ed was doing up there in heaven. I keep obsessing over what he was feeling and thinking right before he jumped. From what a witness reported who dialed 911, he paced back and forth on the bridge for what appeared to be about 45 minutes before he actually did it. Was he speaking with God? Did he pray that he wouldn’t be found? Did he ask that his parents and sister be all right in the aftermath of his passing? Did he try to speak to me and tell me he loved me one last time?

My mom still isn’t sleeping through the night. I was like that the first few days after he went missing and passed; I would toss and turn and fall asleep in a few hours, then wake up about every two hours throughout the night. At least I know that my brother is at peace and hopefully enjoying himself in heaven… because my family is not at peace and probably will not be for a long, long time.

Tonight, we went to see rogerandtom, a play about a dysfunctional couple separating and an even more dysfunctional family where five years ago, two brothers stopped speaking over some petty argument. In the play, on this day five years later, they are finally going to reconcile. As sad and pathetic as that sounds, the even more depressing thought about that is that there really are a LOT of siblings out there who do not get along to the point of not speaking except out of obligation, or unless family deaths occur. There are relationships in my family like this, and there are also relationships in other families with whom I’m associated.

These types of poor relationships make me really angry, mostly because I feel that these people are ungrateful for the fact that they have siblings, and they just think it’s fine to waste their lives holding grudges over petty things that should not matter in the grand scheme of life. Life is short; get over your petty disagreements and love each other, for God’s sake. These people have something that I will never have again because my brother has left this world. I’ve been robbed of my beloved Ed. It makes me feel that life is even more unfair. They have relationships that they don’t really have because they make the stupid choice not to maintain them, and I do not and will never have that brother-sister relationship again because my brother is in heaven, and I am still on earth.

I thought again today about how I still have not fully accepted that Ed is not with us anymore. As Chris said, perhaps the reason I do not fully feel that he is gone is because he is not actually gone; he is still with me in spirit, in my day-to-day actions with others, and in my overall outlook on life. Today and forever, he will shape me, and for that, I will always be grateful and love him.

I had a really bad day today – not in terms of work or people; it was more about how I felt and how every little thing today seemed to trigger emotions in me that made me think of Ed and how he is absent and will continue to physically be absent in my life from now on. Songs I listened to made me think of him, the relatively cooler temperature when I left the apartment reminded me of him (he hated the humidity of New York when he visited in July 2011 and could not wait to get back to the overcast and 60-degree weather in San Francisco), and even overhearing coworkers’ conversations mentioning their own siblings brought him to mind. I’ll never be able to say that I have plans to have dinner with or visit my brother again. Even though I planned to fly back for his birthday this month, take him out to have Indian food like he loved, and get him a beautiful cake from Schubert’s, a bakery he liked, I’ll never be able to say I did any of that because none of that will happen. I just miss him. I even miss bickering with him and even occasionally lecturing him about being positive. I miss my brother.

On the day that Ed passed, that morning I downloaded the Usher/David Guetta/Ludacris song called “Rest of My Life” and played it on and off throughout the day. I originally thought that this song would be about the next stage in my life career-wise, since I had just resigned three days before. Now, every time I hear it, I just think of Ed leaving this world. I played it on my iPhone during my ride to work this morning, and I started welling up. I want to be hopeful about the future, and like they say in this song, hope that what doesn’t kill me will make me stronger. I want to live for something bigger. Maybe life really is a test as Rick Warren said in The Purpose-Driven Life. Though Ed’s death is the largest tragedy I’ve ever faced, maybe it is a test to show how well I can continue in life despite this happening, and to challenge me to preserve his memory and make sure he did not die in vain. I need to do all this the rest of my life because I love him that much.

In the last eight months or so, my brother and I spoke over the phone relatively frequently when I was not at home. I visited home twice – once for a long weekend in February since I was in LA for work and flew up for four days, and once for a scheduled trip to see my family for two weeks in March. I still vividly remember how happy he was to see me and how strong his hold on me was when he hugged me.

When there were days when I wouldn’t speak to him, I sent him e-mails to encourage his job search, helped him spruce up his resume, and gave him words of encouragement and love. In the most recent weeks before his passing, my messages were very short and to the point.

One e-mail:

Subject: Hey

Message: I love you. Please don’t hurt yourself.

Another e-mail:

Subject: Hey

Message: Please be strong. I love you.

And the last message when he went missing and did not come home, and I had some false, deluded hope that somehow he’d read his e-mail wherever he went:

Subject: Please come home

Message: I love you and am worrying about you. Please come home if you love me. We are all worrying about you and freaking out.