Andy and I met as associates at Houlihan Lokey in the Transaction Opinions (TO) practice. In our group of about 50 people, five of us were promoted to associate in August of 2024, Andy and me being two of them. As part of our promotions, the firm flew us to a training in Dallas for a few days, along with a couple dozen other newly minted associates in late October 2024. Andy and I had never really spoken in depth before, but this was one of those work events where the majority of the value was going to be in the bonding that would surely unfold late at night after a bit of free alcohol.

On the first night of the training trip, Andy and I sat next to each other at the Dallas Mavericks game that HL paid for us to attend. We talked about travel, office politics, vibes in the Bay Area, and, more vulnerably, some of the personal sacrifices we struggled to make due to our demanding hours at work. I remember having the distinct impression that he showed a remarkably sincere interest in how I was really doing. He didn't shy away from asking about difficult topics, and he didn't flinch when I was honest.

The next night, all the trainees were split off into small groups for a mentorship dinner (I went to Mi Cocina, Andy to The Henry), and then we reunited at Kirby Trail Ice House. The five of us in TO sat together at our own picnic table with our drinks. As the night went on, the way I remember it, everyone else was buzzing, laughing, texting their friends to come out, and mingling, whereas our table was almost comically engrossed in an hours-long heart-to-heart. Everyone Ubered to a second bar, but the five of us stayed to keep talking.

Someone asked how I was handling things in the Houston office - I was one of two or three women out of 50ish financial staff. I answered truthfully, and everyone listened with a combination of empathy and offers of support. Later, after we'd gotten up from our table and were organizing into Ubers, Andy pulled me aside privately. He said to me with an almost startling level directness that I was never alone, and that he wanted me talk to him when things got hard - and so I did. His support and his friendship truly mean so much to me.

This loss is incredibly surreal, and it feels as if the world itself is reshaping around the horrible new truth of Andy's absence. To his family and loved ones, I send my deepest condolences. I wish you comfort and peace.

Andy - I hope you are at peace somewhere. I miss you.

I was fortunate to work closely with Andy Chen, and he became far more to me than a coworker. He was the person I worked with most closely, and he quickly became someone I trusted deeply. Andy made me feel supported, respected, and valued every day. He gave thoughtful advice, encouraged me when I doubted myself, and always spoke to me as an equal. He believed in me in a way that made me believe in myself.

Andy was also my closest friend. He was there for me through some of the hardest and happiest moments of my life. No matter what was going on, he always made time to listen. We could talk for hours about work, life, or nothing important at all, and I always felt better after speaking with him. When I had a bad day, he knew exactly how to lift my spirits. When I had good news, he was genuinely happy for me.

Andy had a rare kindness and steadiness that made me feel safe and understood. He meant more to me than words can fully express, and I miss him every day. I hope his family and friends know how deeply he was loved and respected, and that he was not only an incredible person to work with, but one of the best people I have ever known.

Andy, 

While I primarily knew you through your 姐姐(sister), I do know you were a powerhouse yourself, deftly handing rigorous academics clubs, and sports. Thank you for always being willing to help even it seems nonsensical and you did not have to. Rest in power, Andy