The night before my brother took his life, I dreamt something odd. I was coming back home to San Francisco, and when I walked through the front door, there was Ed standing there, with just pants on, no shirt. He smiled at me without speaking, then reached out to me to hold me in his arms. As he wrapped his arms around me, I realized how cold he was. His arms were icy cold, and his body felt so cold and skinny against mine as I put my arms around him. It makes me want to sob to think about it in retrospect, but it’s odd how telling that dream was now that I think of it.

I can’t listen to music. Ever since I learned that my brother had in fact passed away, it hurts me too much to listen to anything. Everything evokes too much pain when I hear it, so I am insisting that no one play music around me. Ed loved Shania Twain; she was his favorite singer. He even took me, along with our cousin Dan, to see her in concert in Seattle in June 2004 after my high school graduation. His favorite Shania song was “Forever and For Always.” As much as it will cause me anguish, I know I have to honor him by playing that song at his funeral service.

Although Ed was seven years older than me, for the longest time during our adult lives, I always kind of saw him as a pseudo younger brother. Part of that is because of his naivete with always trusting people who did not deserve his trust; the other part of it was that of the two of us, I was always much stronger and more confident than he was. Despite our physical distance, I felt the need to take care of him, lead the way for him, give him lots of gifts and money to show I loved him. Now that he has been taken away from me, it’s hard to imagine life without him. It’s so painful to think of the future – things like going through my future wedding day, getting pregnant, and giving birth to his future nephew and niece – without him being there by my side. He was one of the most supportive people in my life, and now I’ll never be able to speak to him again.

Really good-hearted and innocent people tend not to fare well in this world. My brother was one of these people. He always believed that everyone had the best intentions, even those who treated him unfairly or judged him. Maybe it was his faith in God that made him see the world that way. I suppose that of the two of us, I was always the more cynical and untrusting one. I tend to question everyone’s motives, even when they are trying to show that they care. I always wonder, how much do you really care? What are you going to do to prove that you care enough? Ed believed the opposite. This world has wronged him, and I’m not sure I will ever get over it.

I’ve always dreaded the day when I would have to fly back home for a family member’s death. And I never thought it would have to be for my brother’s. I will never wake up and see the world the same way again.

Today was the worst day of my life. I will never hear my mother stop crying.