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.