I finally came up with the courage to tell my mom today that I resigned and began a new job. I probably would have told her sooner, but given the grief and instability that my brother’s passing has caused, I figured it would be best to wait a bit before telling her. My mother is the ultimate worrier and pessimist; she always worries even in the most carefree situations, and when everyone else sees the best things, she tends to quietly point out the worst. I don’t blame her; it’s just the way she is given all of her experiences growing up in a war-torn Vietnam and as an immigrant in the U.S. The number one thing my mother has sought in a job is stability. She always thought I had that at Reprise. And I was bored to death.

The truth about my new job is that things have been going as good as they could be in the last five days I have been there; everyone has been even warmer and nicer (and smarter and less BS-y) than I expected. The culture seems to be exactly what I never quite had at my last company, and I know this will be a challenging, fun ride. My manager has been incredibly empathetic with me given the recent events of my family, and I haven’t felt more satisfied about work in this way for as long as I can remember (granted, I haven’t done any “real” work yet, but I hope to still be singing this song in three months’ time). In the beginning, when I had just signed the offer and given my last company my resignation letter, I was terrified. I was scared of leaving a place where I had built a solid reputation for myself over more than four years, as someone who didn’t just “know her shit,” but also was full of personality and well-liked. I was intimidated by how potentially more intelligent and efficient people would be than I at my current company given the nature of startup culture; people generally don’t fair well in startups if they can’t walk the talk. But in the last three weeks, though I have cried, snapped, and shrieked over and over about how unfair the world is and how my beloved Ed deserved a better life than what he had, I’ve realized that if I can get through my brother departing this world, everything else… would seem easy — relatively speaking. My worst fears came true when I learned Ed had left this world, so how much more worse and painful could anything else really be in life?

I owe it to Ed to take the chances that he never did, to take risks and enjoy life to the extent that he deserved – that I deserve. I never had the chance to tell him about this new job, but I know in my heart that he would probably be the happiest person in the world for me and so proud of his little sister. Everything I do from this point forward, I will think of Ed and think of every step as something that he would have seen and for which he would cheer me on.

Since the night before Ed passed, he’s come to me in dreams many times. During the twelve days I was home in San Francisco, when I’d awaken, I’d remember no dreams of any sort. Since I have come back to New York, I seem to remember him coming to me every few nights.

In one dream, Chris and I have taken him on a trip to Memphis, Tennessee, where the three of us are all sitting at a round table eating barbeque ribs at Rendez Vous, a restaurant I’d wanted to try when I was there in 2010, but the lines were too long. Ed loved barbeque, and like most men, adored ribs. This is when we thought the Bart Simpson figurine inspiration would be most fitting to memorialize him. Ed can still travel the world with us.

In the same night, I dreamt I was signed into my GMail account, and I saw him on Google Chat, so I instant messaged him and chatted with him. I told him how mad I was at him for leaving me alone in this world, and how much I missed him and wanted him to come back. He simply said, “I’m sorry.”

In another dream, he went to the top of a building and jumped off. He was rushed to the hospital, where I met him. He regained consciousness for a little bit, got out of his bed, talked to me for a bit, stumbled, fell, and then died. I woke up crying.

Three nights ago, I dreamt that he called me while I was in New York and told me he ate something bad. He said he had some blue cheese that was odd (Ed always hated blue cheese), and it was making his stomach turn. I advised him to drink some hot, clear liquids and rest. A few hours later, my mom calls me to tell me that Ed died from food poisoning.

Last night, I had a dream that I was working in San Francisco (it’s unclear if I am there temporarily for work or living at home again), and I had a really bad day at the office. I came home feeling very upset, and then when I walk through the front door, there is Ed, sitting with his head in his hands at the dining room table. My heart is pounding when I see him, and I run up to him and embrace him tightly. The feel of his arms around me is so real that for a few seconds, I really think that this dream is real. I start crying, and I keep repeating over and over, “Are you really here? Did all of that stuff never happen?” And he is confused, holding me firmly in his strong arms, and says to me that he has no idea what I am talking about, and that I should calm down.

I don’t know where you are exactly in heaven, Ed, but all I do know is that you are out there somewhere. But where I really want you is right here with me, alive and breathing and smiling — forever. I would even pay your rent if you were willing to come back, and I don’t pay anyone else’s rent. I still want you back.

A lot of odd things have happened since Ed has passed away that make me believe that he is still there, watching over me in his own ways. One night after Chris had gone back to New York, it took me four hours to fall asleep. During that time tossing and turning, I noticed a rectangular light right above Ed’s bed where he’d slept. It wouldn’t go away, and I couldn’t figure out where that light was coming from.

Yesterday night, while looking for parking in Newport, we were having the hardest time finding a spot. Then after blocks and blocks of looking, we finally found one – on Edward Street. On the first part of the block, there were multiple basketball courts – Ed loved basketball. On the end of the block was a small cemetery. The coincidence was too odd.

Chris came up with an idea to preserve Ed forever that we’ve already started. Everywhere we travel, whether it’s a short road trip an hour away or across the world, we will take something along that had special meaning to Ed that will represent him to me (I chose his Bart Simpson figurine that he’s had as long as I can remember; Ed loved the Simpsons). During these trips, when we do something that I think Ed might have enjoyed, I will take Bart out and snap a photo of him in the scene. That way, in my heart, Ed will have experienced this great activity/event with us, and will live life and travel through us — through me. He will always be with me. This weekend, we are in Rhode Island exploring Newport and Providence, and Ed (Bart) has already gotten his face smothered in fried clam bellies and stuffed lobster!