It’s been over two weeks, and I still haven’t fully accepted that Ed isn’t with us anymore. When it was confirmed that he had passed, I fantasized in my head that the person who jumped off the bridge wasn’t him, that he had paid some other depressed person’s family an insane amount of money to pose as him, with his house keys, driver’s license, and all, and jump off. That sounds pretty selfish since at the end of it, it would still mean that someone had to die, but I fantasized about it anyway. Then, when the day came for his service, I’d see the body in the casket and realize immediately it was definitely not my Ed, and that my Ed had in fact tried to fake his own death so that he could start a new life in a new place and finally attain the peace and happiness he’d always sought. And then one day, he’d reach out to me and we’d be together again. It’s a sick fantasy, but it was a real one I tried to hold onto as long as I could.

What is a normal amount of time to grieve? Is it a few weeks, a few months, an entire year, a decade? It’s been two weeks, and even little things trigger emotions in me and make me cry. Yesterday, I went to my old office to drop off my laptop and say hi to my former coworkers, and one gave me a really touching look and simply said, “How are you?” and my eyes immediately started welling up. I want to move on with my life, enjoy the things I’ve always enjoyed, and smile and laugh as though nothing awful has happened to me in the last few weeks, but in the back of my mind, my brother’s memory lingers. It’s not that I want to forget about him; it’s quite the contrary. Because I love him so much, I want to live the happy life that he never had the chance to live – for both of us. But how and when will that happen when even the little things make me cry?

One of the biggest problems with being Asian is the constant need to “save face.” Asians across all countries are so concerned with preserving their reputation and looking good in front of others that they forget the ramifications of such shallow pursuits. They forget how people can get hurt in this process and potentially be scarred for life – or die. This also leads to avoiding discussing and being open about important, even life-threatening topics such as mental illness and depression. How do we discuss topics such as depression and suicide when we cannot even admit out loud, to ourselves and to others, the realities that our dead loved ones faced? When will Asians stop ignoring these problems and open themselves up to addressing them?

Today, I had to fly back to New York. My mom didn’t take it very well, as she burst into tears when she and my dad dropped me off at the airport. I tried to hug her, but she said the longer I hugged her, the more she would cry, so I kissed her, told her and my dad I love them, and walked into the check-in area. Two weeks ago, I suffered the biggest loss of my life when my brother left this world. While that is an awful thing, it’s even harder to fathom what it would be like for a parent to lose her child. No parent should ever have to bury her child. This whole experience has made me feel even more distrusting of the world, and even of the greater powers that may exist that allow these events to occur. My brother loved God and was a Christian, yet he’s now unfairly gone from this world.

My brother’s interment was on Wednesday. I prepared a bag of his favorite things to place around his urn in his niche – his brown belt from Karate, his Bible, his Hawaiian name card a friend gave to him, a Nike ID tag, the entire Simpson family in miniature form with bobbling heads, Japanese miniature food, a Smurf figurine, and a Curious George on a little ball. We also included a silver framed picture of my brother from my college graduation. He looks so happy in that picture in his nice dress shirt and tie. That was five years ago. I wish he had realized how beautiful he was. He always had whiter teeth than I did.

In the last few days, I’ve been helping my parents clean the house, especially Ed’s room that we once shared. I’ve rearranged furniture to reveal odd mildew growth and huge dust balls. I’ve found unopened packages of blankets and bedding that were waiting to be used. I’ve also found sentimental items, like photo albums of him when he was just a few months old, and a hand print he did in preschool when he was about four years old. Everything we uncover makes my mom cry, and it makes my eyes well up in tears knowing that this is all we have left of him.

I love my dad. Today, he celebrated his 65th birthday. While that is certainly a year that is arbitrarily set as the official “Senior Citizen” age and the age when you can start collecting Social Security, in my family, it is even more significant given our family history of heart disease and strokes. My dad has been extremely diligent about routine exercise, physical exams, eating enough fruit, vegetables, and fiber, and making sure that he is in as good of health as possible. Given what he can still physically do (paint houses and lift large weights!), he’s in really great shape for his age and was told by a physician recently that he has the body of someone 20 years younger. I’m so proud of my dad. I just wish that Ed were still here to see his dad turn 65, too.

Chris and I took a long walk today to get some alone time. We walked throughout the Richmond, got massages, then continued our walk down to Arguello along Clement. During that nice, leisurely stroll, Chris did a double take at some red graffiti he randomly saw on the sidewalk. He immediately told me to turn around and look. Right there, in big red spray-painted letters, were the words, “Big Brother Loves You.” Maybe that was Ed trying to speak to me. Maybe it was all some crazy coincidence. All I know for sure is that my brother is watching over me and will always be with me, in my heart and in my mind, and hopefully, protecting me.

My brother, in the last 27.5 years of my life, taught me a number of things, and one of those things is to always be grateful for what you have. To show gratitude is to be happy, and we should always readily express that gratitude to the ones we love because our relationships are what make our lives so rich. So that’s why I have spent the last day fervently writing thank you cards, e-mails, and messages to everyone who has given my family condolences, flowers, food, money, cards, gifts, and their precious time during this difficult period. Every time I do anything now, I always think in the back of my mind if Ed would approve of it. In this case, I think he would approve, but he’d also remind me that I am being anal and rushing too much. Can you really rush gratitude, though?

Ed, my beloved Ed. My big brother and I have shared so much over the years. Ed and I, unlike many siblings I know, were very close and communicated often despite our seven-year age difference and the 3,000-mile distance that we’ve had since I left for the East Coast in 2004. Of course, when we were little, we often fought as most siblings do. I remember the time when I was about 6 and Ed was 13, and we were playing in the backyard with our Super Soakers on a hot day. I sprayed Ed pretty badly, and for a second I thought I was the victorious one. Little did I know that when Ed came back from around the corner, he had an entire bucket of water that he would then dump all over me. Yeah, I was dripping wet. So, I lost in the end. He was a sneaky one, that Ed. As an older brother, he felt compelled to teach me important life lessons – like how to play catch, dribble a basketball between my legs (which I failed at miserably), and the importance of Transformers, G.I. Joe, and Legos. Much to his absolute shock, one by one I accidentally broke his Transformers, and maybe at that point he realized that maybe it wasn’t always the smartest thing to be good to your little sister.

As the years went on and we became more mature, we shared more and became closer. Ed found the truth in God, and in the early 2000s, when he was baptized as a Christian at the Golden Gate Christian Church, he emerged feeling more peace and calm than he ever had in his life. He was so eager to share the word of God with others and hoped that they would find salvation. One day, he came home with Rick Warren’s book The Purpose-Driven Life. He gave me a copy and encouraged me to read just one chapter a day. “I want you to lead a life with meaning,” he said to me. I got through almost all of it, and I could see the excitement in his eyes when he’d see me sitting on the couch reading it. It never took much to make Ed happy. It was the little things in life that brought glimmer to his eyes. Another day, I realized exactly how determined he was to share with others – I saw him open his filing cabinet to reveal at least a dozen other copies of The Purpose-Driven Life! He even gave a copy to our family dentist! That was the kind of person Ed was – determined to help others and generous beyond comprehension at times.

His generosity knew no bounds despite his limited income. He was the first man in my life to ever have flowers and balloons delivered to me. It was in 2004 for my high school graduation. He was so proud of me and wanted me to know it in every possible way. He also got me my first digital camera as a grad gift, which was such a big deal at the time. I felt so badly that he spent so much money on me, and he insisted that he wanted to do it. “You worked so hard to get here, and you’re going to a great college on the East Coast,” he said. “You’re so brave to leave home so far away for school. I could never do that.” Ed was always so self-deprecating. He always doubted himself and how capable he was, and all I wanted was for him to realize his own inner strength. I would always tell him this, and he’d shoo me away.

That same year in 2004, he even took me to Seattle shortly after my high school graduation so we could see his favorite singer in concert, Shania Twain. Originally, our mom, being the overprotective Asian mother she is, didn’t allow us to go. She said we were too young to travel on our own. So we ended up nagging our cousin Dan endlessly until he finally agreed to accompany us and be our “chaperone” of sorts. It was our first trip out of the state together without our parents, and the first and only trip where all I saw were smiles on Ed’s face. He not only got to see Shania in concert, but he even got to hold her hand and get his ticket autographed by her while sitting in his front row seat. Ed was on cloud 9. It was like he was floating. I’d never seen him happier.

Ed’s focus and passion were never more obvious than when he spent a number of years in the mid 2000’s studying Kenpo karate. He had always wanted to do it as a child, but just never had the chance, so as an adult, he wanted to make his desire a reality. My brother was a true man of his word. When he said he would do something, he would always, always do it. A few times a week, he’d head to the Sunset and practice karate. Once, I accompanied him to his class to watch him. With the camera he gave me, I took photos and videos of him. It was then that I realized exactly how deep his passion was. The concentration he had and the zeal he possessed just overflowed in every single movement he made. He made it all the way to brown belt, just one belt below the highest level, black belt, and I was so proud of him. Despite his own self-doubt, he was capable of so, so much. He just didn’t realize it.

During his time at Macy’s working in the domestics department, he wanted to improve our home life by completely redoing all of our bedding and bath items. He insisted that we have soft hotel collection-quality, high absorbency towels, taught me what thread count was and how it affected bed sheet quality (and scolded me when I didn’t think it was a big deal), and bought brand-name dishes and mugs for the kitchen. He even got us real Tupperware-brand Tupperware. Who has real Tupperware?! Do you know anyone who owns real Tupperware-brand Tupperware? He wanted us to have a beautiful home and did everything he could to make it inviting and tasteful. And when Christmas rolled around, everyone in the family could expect to get at minimum a 400-thread count bedding set from our beloved Ed. The question was never, “What might Ed get me?” The real question was – “What color bedding would I receive?” He sure was practical.

And since I left home nine years ago, every time I’d come back from New York or Boston, he was always so excited to see me when I’d walk through our front door. His joy was written all over his face. He’d jump out of his seat and run up to give me a big hug to welcome me back home. Sometimes, he’d even have a “Welcome Home, Yvonne” cake waiting for me. I don’t think I ever did anything to deserve it, but being Ed, he always insisted that my coming home was well worth celebrating.

Ed had a lot of quirks that made him incredibly loveable. But of all the things about him that I will remember and cherish most, in my mind, he will always be the truest personification of genuineness, innocence, and purity. He believed in the best of people even when they disappointed or judged him, and he hated to think that anyone could be capable of doing any wrong. Though he struggled with his own inner demons, he always remembered and deeply loved those around him, and as one friend of his wrote to my family in a letter in the last week, no matter how he felt, he always wanted to ask how you were and ask you questions to show that he truly cared and was concerned about you.

So Ed, although you are no longer with us now, I have some words I’d like to say to you today in front of all of your family and friends:

No words I could ever say could express how much I truly love you and yearn for you to be here with our family and me now. Mommy, Daddy, and I love you and miss you so much that it hurts to a point that it is indescribable with words. All I want is to see your beautiful face again, that warm smile with those full lips, those incredibly white teeth. All I desire is to hear that warm, radiating laugh come from your mouth, and to feel your strong, warm arms around me. I know that you had many struggles, and though that struggle has ended, I really hope with my entire being that you have found peace and comfort where you are now. But please know that for the rest of my life, every single day, I will remember you, think of you lovingly, and never forget the profound impact you had and will continue to have on my life. One day, when I am walking down that wedding aisle, I will feel your gaze on me lovingly. One day, when I give birth to your future niece and nephew, I know you will be looking down on me with a big smile on your face. I will see your beautiful face and smile back.

I know you always used to say you felt badly because you wanted to be a better role model for me, but in truth, you were the best older brother I could have ever asked for. Some people live an entire lifetime and never learn to exude love and genuineness in the way you did. I thank you for teaching me realness and true love, and I will wait for that one day in the future, when I will walk through that open door, and be greeted by you welcoming me home again.