Last night, we had a celebration of life for my nephew Brian. He was 51. There was a good turnout, as the saying goes, of family and friends. A group that Brian himself would have felt was too large and too much fuss. And as I looked at the picture boards that his sister Julie, mother Sharon, and daughter-in-law Amber (in all but name), all I could see was this bright vibrant boy. The one who made me an uncle at age 7. The one who used to laugh when tickled and held in the air. The one who helped me move four times, who was my pick to be best man at my wedding even though I knew it was something he would never do, who stood sentry next to my mom, his Nan, when my father died. Brian was next to her side the entire day, and lord forgive anyone who would have caused drama or made her life more difficult that day in any way. In all the pictures, huge grins, and no bigger ones than with his son, Gabe.
It’s been a week since he passed, a normal Thursday morning getting ready for work, that turned terrible with an aoritc aneurysm. Sometimes, if they catch them in time and can prevent the rupture (if that is the right term), they can mitigate the damage, maybe save you. Or you could be in the hospital surrounded by the best medical personnel in the world and nothing they can do will help.
My sister Sharon is 74 this year, her husband Bob 75, and sister Julie 47. They were all there when it happened, and as with many end of life scenarios, it’s not pretty. It’s not fun. It’s not someone falling asleep and not waking up. It’s messy, it’s terrifying, it’s loud, it’s busy, and most of all, it likely leaves you feeling helpless as the universe decides the outcome, and one not in your favour. It is trauma. There’s no other way to describe it.
And when that “part” was over, if it is ever over in their mind or the minds of others, the universe continues. You don’t know how it can. My sister called me but I was working and I missed the call. My brother texted me to call her right away, it was about Brian. I expected news of an accident, an injury perhaps. I did not expect my sister to call to tell me her son was gone.
As the youngest of six kids, I have always expected that I would trod similar ground to that of my mother. The call to tell me that one of my siblings has passed. Or brothers- or sisters-in-law. Or perhaps an aging aunt or uncle who remain. A family friend of my parents perhaps. There is no “right” or “correct” way to the universe, I know, but I don’t expect one of my best friends’ husbands to die at 50. Or that my sister’s son, the oldest of the next generation, will have passed, also at 50.
I look at my own son, now 17, and I can’t imagine. There are no words to express the feelings, as there are no feelings to identify. An emptiness that just sits there. All week long my brain has been thinking of Brian in the present tense. Like, “Oh, what will he think of this?”. I refer to Brian, and I use my son’s Jacob’s name. I refer to Jacob and call him Brian.
When my parents passed, there were things for me to do. Things to help with, things that were my job to help take care of immediately. When Don died, my brother, my role is merely that of comfort to the immediate family. Similarly for my sister, brother-in-law, niece, grand-nephew and grand-niece-in-law. I found myself wandering around in Ottawa feeling like I should be doing something, maybe even writing this post. But I honestly didn’t know what to say. I’m not sure I do yet.
I blog a lot, as people have seen. I write my way through things at times. I write to help myself understand the world. And yet in this context, there is no understanding. Just grief.
My sister Sharon asked if I would read a short speech that she had written for the celebration of life, as she felt she wouldn’t get through it. I adlibbed some stuff too about being his uncle. And I’ll share some of it here.
I talked about how I have Brian as my third name, and if anyone there thought Brian was named for me, he wasn’t. I was named for him. When I did my confirmation in Catholic School, I had to choose a name that meant something to me. Most people chose various saints. I chose Brian. I was an uncle at age 7, which was unique. It meant something to me. And while most people quickly forget their confirmation name, I included it in my full identification. I have never regretted choosing that name, nor do I regret it now. I loved Brian and having his name as part of mine is a treasure, not a burden.
I mentioned too that we were at the Knights of Columbus Hall, and that Sharon herself at gone to school in the hall when it was a school, St. Mary’s. She had been married across the street at St. Peter’s, where Brian had been baptized. I spoke briefly of my relationship with Brian, and that he had helped me move 4 times! Crazy that he actually liked helping move because it was a concrete puzzle / challenge to do and then you were done. I didn’t mention asking him to be my best man or that he had been Nan’s knighted escort when Papa died.
I did mention that Brian always thought babies were interesting at a distance. He didn’t get why Nan or Sharon were gaga for babies. Until he met Gabe, and then he got it. He had a way when talking where he would sort of lean back and go, “ooooohhhhhh” slowly. That was his reaction after Gabe came into his life. He got it.
I’ll share Sharon’s speech here too for anyone who wasn’t able to attend:
Being as I have known Brian the whole of his life, I would just like to give a quick look at his life. As a young boy, even though he was not a social butterfly, he had two close friends, who strangely enough were both named Steven, but complete opposites in personality.
Brian left school behind early and at the age of 16, went to work at the grocery store where Bob, his father, was assistant manager. This was the start of 34 years in the retail Food Distribution Industry. In those years, he worked for all three of the major Retail Grocery Stores and both Westons and Dempsters Bread, with a short time as a receiver for Shoppers Drug Mart.
Brian grew up in Belleville, and when his Dad got transferred to our home town of Peterborough, he came with us. He has lived with us his entire life. He has had two major relationships in his life, both of which changed him. The most significant of course produced the person he loved the most, his son Gabe. From that moment on, Gabe became one of the most important things in his world.
He continued the trend of having only a couple of really close friends. His one friend was not only a friend but a stabilizer when life threw him a curve ball. So when this friend also had a son, they became the perfect foursome. They went to the movies, Comic-cons, and of course, Fan Expo. As their boys got older, they did even more and then the foursome became 5. Gabe’s then girlfriend and now fiancee joined the group and became just one of the group. Brian also was a huge music fan and attended many concerts.
In closing, I hope that gives you a small glimpse of Brian’s life. He was not always the easiest person to live with and he had his quirks, that anyone who knew him would agree with. But, as his mom, I loved him anyway and will miss him.
I finished with a small reference, a bit rough and tumble that Brian had a sophisticated rating system for watching movies or going to shows. There was the “oh gawd” for things that were terrible; the shrug and maybe a “meh” if it was okay but not great; a gentle nod and a “not bad” for the middle range; a “Yeah, that was good, I enjoyed it” for the next rung. And then for the top of the range, he would say, “I thoroughly enjoyed that, all the way through.” Unreserved acknowledgement that it was good. And I acknowledged that we thoroughly enjoyed having him in our lives. A bit corny, and cheesy, I know.
Gabe and Amber spoke next and did great tributes, which I’ll let them share if they choose to do.
The whole immediate family of Brian were surprised at the size of the turnout. He always seemed like such an introvert, it was rewarding to see people there sharing stories of jokes and experiences.
There were other aunts and uncles there, and we all agree sometimes the universe sucks. But if Brian was watching, I’m not sure his takeaway would be from Sharon, or Bob, or me, or Amber or even Gabe. I think he would have been beaming with pride for his sister Julie. She was there during the trauma. She’s been working tirelessly all week. She’s been holding herself together, somehow. And most importantly, in my view of Brian’s likely concerns? She’s been taking care of Sharon and Bob from the moment of the 911 call through to last night. It’s a terrible burden to place on anyone, particularly someone who has just lost her brother. As much as everyone wants to help, and offers to do anything and everything, there are some things that fall to the remaining children and grandchildren. I’m sure if he could tell her himself, he would thank her for all she did for him and for them.
With the celebration of life over, the next steps start to happen. Everybody who pushed themselves for the last week will likely catch a cold as the body lets the adrenaline go. Or a lingering cough. The universe will continue on, even if we have no idea how that could be possible. People start to deal with the remaining paperwork and belongings. I’m good with that sort of stuff, so I’ll see if there’s anything I can help Gabe and Amber with in the coming months.
When I’ve said goodbye to other people, one of the things that I try to picture in my mind is the idea of what would a perfect day be for them. And then try to lock that in as a memory of them. For Brian, it would have to be some sort of Fan Expo event, I think. Not actually being there yet, but getting ready to go. The anticipation. Or a concert. But having a bit of time. Maybe playing a video game before he left. Or watching a movie. Gabe and Amber would be there, getting ready to go out later together. Bob, Sharon and Julie. Somebody telling a story about something weird that happened that week, maybe Brian himself talking about work. But laughter would be there. Not hard-core, roll on the floor so much as the classic, “You aren’t going to believe what sh** I saw this week.” And Brian ready to thoroughly enjoy the day.
I love you Brian. There’s a hole in my heart that may scar over, but it will never fully heal. You have been and will always be one of the best men I ever knew.
