One of the best things about being in the Northeastern part of the United States during the autumn months is seeing the leaves change color. Of course, if you live in Manhattan, it’s easy to miss out on this completely unless you frequent Central Park or Union Square often, but in pretty much every other area, you can’t miss the stunning colors. We spent this past weekend exploring the Cleveland, Ohio, area, and it was far more stunning and dramatic than we had anticipated. The varying shades of red, orange, and yellow were particularly dramatic against today’s cloudy blue sky. It was really any photographer’s dream (or anyone who is leaf-obsessed).

I’m really fortunate that I am able to live in New York given that I was born and raised all the way across the country; I’m even more blessed because I have the luxury of traveling as often as Chris and I do and seeing so many beautiful places and things that really cannot be substituted with a mere Google Image search. The sad part about this is that whenever I feel happy now or excited about something new that I am seeing or doing, I remember that Ed isn’t here to be able to do any of these things. He has never seen the dramatic fall colors in the Northeast; he’s never experienced what it’s like to watch the snow fall from his window and later go outside for a snowball fight; he will never know how great it is to transition from the frigid winter months to the crisp but more promising spring months out here. Bart comes with us, but sometimes, that just doesn’t feel like it’s enough. An empty feeling still lurks in the back of my mind knowing he can no longer breathe the same air as I do.

With the autumn leaves turning and Halloween just having passed us, Christmas is on a lot of our minds now. It’s really crazy to think how the period between Halloween and Christmas zoom by us, and it’s like November is almost a filler month (there’s Thanksgiving, but that even seems to come too quickly).

My cousin texted me earlier this week to ask me and my other cousin (his brother here in New York) if we’d be coming back home for Christmas this year. I will not be going home for Christmas this year. In fact, I won’t even be in this country or this continent for Christmas this year… and if I can help it, any Christmas in the foreseeable future. If Ed is not there, what is my incentive to ever come back home for Christmas ever again?

Christmas is “family time” when your family in some way brings you a degree of happiness and contentment. That is when you look forward to it and just can’t wait to get back to it that one time during the year, assuming you live away from home. But when you have realized after all the years of meaningless hostility, blaming, dysfunction, and lack of gratitude that you actually despise being with them for Christmas, why are you even spending time with these people? As sad as it is to say, I no longer believe that the bonds of family are greater than that of friends. I don’t want to continue to be in touch with a cousin or aunt or whoever *just* because he is of that relation to me. I want to be in contact with him because we enjoy each other’s company and in some way, make each other better human beings for it. As trite as it is, life is too short to be spent with miserable people who make you miserable.

Ed is coming with us to Australia this year. He’s finally going to have a happy Christmas, even if he isn’t in his human form anymore.

I had a moment at work today that would be classified as a “geeky moment.” I was working on a quarterly performance template and creating graphs with fake data, and I wanted to create a bar chart showing media spend with a line graph overlaid on top of it showing gross profit. Since my current work computer has Microsoft Office 2013 installed, I wasn’t used to this new version, so it took some time before I realized that the way I was trying to create this type of graph was outdated, and the multiple steps I had taken before have now been replaced by the click of a “Combo” button. I was in Excel heaven for the next ten minutes.

Last night, we went to see Gravity. Sandra Bullock’s character, Dr. Ryan Stone, is sent on a mission to outer space, and while there, she realizes that she could die; everyone on the mission has died except for her at that point. She doesn’t think it would be that bad because back on earth, she doesn’t have anyone she cares about who cares about her. Her daughter reached a tragic death at the age of 4, and since then, she just drives, as she says. She thinks she will commit a painless suicide in outer space until she has a hallucination of George Clooney’s character, Matt, coming back to make her snap out of it. After she wakes up, she realizes she has to continue to go on no matter what.

In the moments when I learned of Ed’s passing, that’s how I felt; it wouldn’t be that bad if my life ended because since Ed is gone, I’d get to see him again. We’d reunite and continue in the next world together. I wonder what Ed would have thought if he had watched Gravity and seen Ryan Stone survive. Would he have felt hope, or would he think, I’m not strong enough to do that?

I wish Ed had hallucinated that someone came to him on the Golden Gate Bridge before he jumped, and that someone gave him all the tangible reasons why he should continue on. I wonder if that would have been enough to prevent him from leaving us. He did bring his keys with him, after all.

I spent this afternoon organizing a lot of old cards and letters that have been given to me over the years from family and friends. While organizing, I re-read a lot of the messages and was brought to tears. Some messages were for congratulations and thanks, while others were for birthdays and Christmases where my friends had realized exactly how long our friendships have lasted. My longest friendships have endured for over 16 years now. That’s how long it’s been since Ed first tried to end his life.

No one in my circle of friends knows me pre Ed’s first attempt. You could even say that no one in my family ever understood me pre Ed’s attempt and post. Yet somehow, I’ve managed to keep most of my thoughts around his and our family’s situation at bay and wear this mask as though I have always had it together. Then I’m sure people think, wow, it must be hard to go through something so difficult like this now. The truth is that it’s been difficult for over 16 years, and no one else has realized how difficult it has been until he decided to leave us in the dramatic way that he did. No one else will ever really know the full truth, and frankly, most people probably don’t want to know. No one enjoys pain.

I also found the gift note that Ed wrote when he had flowers delivered for my 21st birthday. “Yvonne, Happy 21st birthday! You’re officially an adult now. -Ed.” He always was a man of few words.

The cold is coming. I actually had to whip out an autumn coat and scarf yesterday, and the heat has also kicked in at the apartment. It’s gradually darker and darker when I leave the apartment in the morning to hit the gym, which has been a bit depressive (and a poor excuse for me to only have gone once this week. I even skipped yoga yesterday, which was pathetic).

As winter slowly creeps up on us, I am reminded that the year is quickly coming to and end, with November coming next week, and Thanksgiving and Christmas just around the corner. I think about all the goals that I’ve set for myself this year – getting in shape and being aggressive about morning workouts, a new job with a higher salary and a happier work environment, trying to meet more people, travel, Wellesley alumnae club involvement, reading a book a month, and as always, trying new things. For the most part, I’ve checked off every one of these boxes, and while that seems great, I still feel like I am in a lull.

Because even though I might have done all these things this year and done whatever it is I have done in the last nearly 28 years of my life, the one area where I have completely failed is saving my brother. 2013 will be the year in my life that will always stand out as the last year my Ed lived, the last year where I hugged my brother and spoke with him in the flesh, and the last year where I could speak about my Ed in present tense. It is an intensely lonely feeling.