Best Man: Ivan Yip

Ivan’s been like a brother to me for 27 years now. Some might even call us real brothers. Growing up, he told me on occasion to call him “哥哥” (which is Chinese for “older brother”) just as an acknowledgement of the pecking order that God gave us. I never did because I’m cool like that, but though I never called him “哥哥,” he’s always been someone I looked up to, admire, and respect; someone I’ve always wanted to beat at stuff, someone who I love unconditionally, and the best older brother I could ever have.

As an older brother, he knew I would eventually have to find out just how cruel the world is, so in his selflessness, love, and wisdom, he prepared me for real life early on by tickling me till I cried, always making sure I knew how garlic altered the smell of his burps, stealing my most coveted mango that I had hidden in the fridge and replacing it with a lesser mango, convincing me that they changed the name “Longs Drugs” into just “Longs” to detract from all the drug dealers, and the list goes on.

He is someone who knows me in all my strengths and weaknesses, someone who, despite my flaws, roots for me, prays for me, and loves me. This description was by far the hardest one to write because I want to save the good stuff for my speech when he gets married, so I’ll just leave it at this: I view him as the best of both my parents and someone I aspire to be like. He’s my most trusted confidante, my closest friend, and my best man. He ain’t heavy. He’s my brother.