36) Two Cranes

Gather round kids. It's time for a story.

Yesterday, May 1st, was my uneventful birthday. I refused to have some pompous or extravagant celebration at someone else's expense. It didn't seem right compared to all the other things that were going on in the world. Some many bad things, so many dying people, and all I could do was celebrate the date of my birth.

So the day went about. I woke up in the early morning to take the dreaded SAT 2 subject tests. Not exactly what the average students wants to do on their birthday, especially because afterward I realized I had failed one of the tests.

After that was finished, I went to Oakland Chinatown with my parents for lunch and helped them pick out the groceries. All I really did was carry the bags, but it felt like I was getting something worthwhile accomplished.

I came home, saw all the nice happy birthday messages people had left me. I reveled in the news that another game in one of my favorite series was going to come out later this year. This one was going to be about Vietnam, which mirrored my recently finished Forever War.

So I ate dinner, trying to forget about the importance of the day. No cake, no presents, no party.

Then I went to bed, trying to figure out why I was feeling absolutely nothing. Why I wasn't feeling sad. Of all the birthdays I've ever had, this one was perhaps the most uneventful.

I didn't mind spending it alone. I didn't mind feeling some silence.

So when I woke up this morning, I understood why.

I finally came to terms with a solemn oath I had made long ago. An oath to not waste my life. It was an oath I had been on the verge of breaking so many times. I had promised this to my brother. My dead brother. I hadn't learned about him until a few years ago, and even then I didn't feel the impact until I started high school.

You see, he died as a result of a miscarriage. The reason this is important is because my parents only wanted one child. Had he survived, I would have never been born. I owe my existence to his death. In a way, I felt he made a sacrifice for me. I'm still an only child as a result.

So this past 17th birthday of mine, I wasn't celebrating my birthday. I was celebrating his death. And you never celebrate a brother's death.

It's ironic that I feel so strongly about him, even though I will never know who he was. In all my darkest hours and suffering, I can only turn to fate and ask why I had lived and he had died.

So I find it offensive when people tell me how annoying their siblings are. They don't know how much I would give to have a brother. They don't know how important it is to have someone to grow up with that shares your blood. I will never know what that feels like.

Although I don't necessarily believe in heaven, I'd like to think he's watching from above. He's there when I cry, when I laugh, and when I try to live the life he never got a chance to. Either that, or he hates me to oblivion for stealing what could have been his.

I often entertain the possibility of a scenario where he lived and I died. Would I still cheer him on? I don't know.

So today I wanted to celebrate the life that he lives as a ghost. Not the life I live on Earth.

You see, the select Chinese that my family belongs to believes in honoring the dead. We believe the dead live in an underworld hell (Not the western world version of fire and brimstone), where they spend their afterlife. In order to make sure they are comfortable, when give them everyday items.

So how exactly do you send items to hell? You burn it.

In China, there's an entire market devoted to making papier-mâché joss paper items so that they can be burnt and sent to the dead. These items represent everyday aspects of human life. There are credit cards, bank notes, food, pets, and houses that you can send to the deceased. Its often funny to see what can be made into paper form and burnt. Believe it or not, there are joss paper prostitutes and condoms.

Every year, you wrap all of the items into a huge 'mail' bag, write on it the sender and receiver, then gently lower it into a brick furnace. Fire takes care of the rest.

I folded two paper cranes. One was withered and fragile, the other graceful and beautiful. In a way, I wanted them to represent me and him. I wanted him to know I will always care. If he gets them, I hope he'll understand what it means.

I set them ablaze, and watched as the smoke faded away, turning paper into ash.

So I think I'm finally old enough to move on, and still share this story with anyone willing to listen. I was able to type this entire thing up without breaking into tears. I just needed to tell somebody. I think it's the only way to bring closure.

Here's to you, brother. I love you more than you will ever know.