Because Salesforce is a sponsor of U2’s latest concert tour, a large number of Salesforce employees all over the country were given tickets to their sold-out shows. Chris was one of these employees, and I’m pleased to say that I was his very lucky companion tonight.

I’m not a crazy U2 fan, but I am familiar with a lot of their songs. Their favorite song of mine, as is with a lot of people, especially us saps, is “With or Without You.” It doesn’t seem to matter when or where it’s played, but every time I hear it, I stop for a moment and just listen. It’s simple, powerful, and so emotional the way it’s delivered.

Tonight, when they were singing it, I was reminded of Ed. The very first concert I attended was because of my brother. He took me to Seattle where we saw Shania Twain live in concert. I thought about that time during the rest of the U2 concert and became pensive, wondering what he would think if we told him we got to see U2 live in concert for free, singing this song, which I’m sure he enjoyed because it’s one of those “very Ed” type songs.

It’s hard to think about my brother without getting a little sad or emotional. People always say that you should celebrate one’s life after one has passed and remember the happiness you once shared with the deceased, but it’s hard to remember that without thinking about that person’s absence in this world, in your life, today, particularly given the way he exited this world. When he was here on this earth, I thought about him and worried about him often. I loved him every day and only wished that he’d get better and somehow find his way. Every day, I loved him. And now that he’s gone, every day, I miss him. I still love him, but my missing him some days seems to overtake my love for him. That seems selfish to see it that way, but we can’t help what we feel. We just feel what we feel.

Even after nearly two years, I still feel like I’m going to see him again on this earth. It’s just a feeling. Like when we approach the anniversary of his death, I think that I’m going to see him that day. I felt this last year, too. I’m not even sure why, but it’s just a feeling, like he’s lurking in the corner of my bathroom (as tiny as it is, and Ed was never that tiny), and he’s going to pop out any second. It’s a reoccurring thought in my mind.

I guess I’ll never fully get over the fact that he’s gone, and because I know I can’t get over it, I just keep wishing that I will see him again. Because as our parents used to fool us into thinking when we were younger, if you wish hard enough for something, one day, it may actually come true.