Brad died four years ago. In some ways it has been the longest four years of my life. In other ways time has passed so quickly that it astounds me. My feelings about this journey are woven into this memorial web site along with tributes and memories of Brad. It is hard to separate the two.

I have mentioned before that it was a blessing for me when I was finally able to mourn the loss of the Brad I had known since I was teenager and not just the Brad that had been fighting cancer for three years. It was a source of comfort when I could find memories of Brad that had nothing to do with sickness, doctors, medicines, and death. It took a while, but with time it happened.

Now, four years later, I can honestly say that most of the time when I think of Brad I do not see in my mind’s eye the emaciated man struggling every day to work up energy to interact with others in some semblance of his old spirited self. I usually think first of the tall, robust, and in later years - slightly overweight, black-haired goof ball with which I shared 30 wedding anniversaries. I think of his sense of humor and the very tender, loyal heart tucked under that humor. I seldom dwell on the super-sadness of the last three years or the supremely devastating whirlwind of his last two months on this good earth. Those harder memories come unbidden starting in August. I have learned to ride them out just as we would ride the waves at Galveston beach—up and down as they pass, and they do pass. God is good.

The journey of grief has been like two roads running parallel to each other; they are very close but never touching. One road is Brad with cancer, and the other Brad without cancer. I think these two roads are starting to join. As I continue with my life, I pray the Lord will allow both roads to merge into a more congruent whole. While I eagerly anticipate the Augusts and Octobers where just as many good memories flood my heart and mind as do the gut-wrenching ones, this does not mean that I want to eradicate from my memory the road called Cancer on which we walked together for three years. This road is just as much a part of Brad’s life as the preceding 48 years.

When people talk to me about Brad they often mention his humor and/or his mistakes. The humor and mistakes usually go together. Brad could laugh at himself, and he tried hard not to take himself too seriously. People knew about Brad’s mistakes because he would tell on himself. Brad wanted others, especially his children, to profit from his hard-learned lessons. For this reason he would share his stories using examples to clarify the point, and there was always a point! It was endearing and annoying at the same time. People who got to know Brad also knew that music flowed through him like a vital fluid and was one of his greatest means for sharing feelings and witnessing about the Lord. If you paid any attention to who Brad really was you also knew that he believed in the importance of prayer for every aspect of life—his and yours!

The road called Cancer brought changes. On this road is less humor although, it is still there. Brad’s personal understanding of “the gift of life” caused patience with “crap” to dwindle nearly to zero. Ouch! On Cancer Road tenderness toward others sometimes took a backseat due to physical pain and heightened frustration with disability. Double ouch! Prayer and music had to be reworked to fit into Brad’s life in new ways. These are hard things to remember. It is not surprising that we would rather not travel back over the road called Cancer during our memory-walks. However, it is on the stark Cancer Road where the adornments of life are stripped away that the deeper work of the Lord as He and Brad continued on together can be so clearly seen. Surely, that is worth remembering!

Do I really want to live? This was the first question that Brad had to face when he stepped onto Cancer Road. Treatments would be long and arduous. The surgeon told Brad that surgery and the long, long recovery would be ‘like living death’. He was not kidding! When the diagnosis of cancer came, Brad was struggling with the reoccurring issue of job dissatisfaction. This is a very trite label for a much deeper life concern. Brad, like most of us, would give his concern to the Lord and when he found that he had taken it up again he would turn back to the Lord with it. At the time of his diagnoses, Brad was very disgusted with his own inability to leave this job dissatisfaction at that the foot of the Cross. This issue was consuming much of Brad’s energy.

When he got the news of his cancer and the seriousness of it, Brad had to get alone with the Lord and decide what really mattered most. He chose life. Simply put, that set the tone for the rest of his journey. He never varied on this choice. Even when it was clear the earthly end was coming, Brad still looked for ways to give life and the Lord his best. There were times toward the end when those of us around him wondered why he did not just let go. I see now that bowing before Jesus nearly three year earlier, Brad had made a commitment to life. Brad was always very tenacious about his commitments especially when it came to his children, me, and most of all the Lord. This part of Brad is spotlighted on Cancer Road!

Will I give in to despair? This is the next question Brad faced as he walked on the road called Cancer. Did he soar above it all? Was he always joyful? Was he unfailingly kind and sweet? No, no, and no. Treatments, feeling so incredibly ill, and confusion over all the changes and things lost to him brought many opportunities for true despair. Brad did not give in to it. Retrospectively, I see it often took all that he had to stay physically, emotionally, and spiritually upright. How I wish I had paid better attention back then. I do remember being particularly amazed that someone who had such a life-long love affair with music genuinely surrendered singing, church choir, and guitar playing without resentment. When I asked Brad about it, he said that feeling desperate did not mean living in despair. Isn’t that an interesting statement! “Pam,” he said, “I just keep praying, ‘Help me Lord not to give in. Please help me!’” Brad would lean and lean and lean into his friend and Lord, Jesus. His hopefulness, God-given strength, and faith grew deeper and stronger on Cancer Road. This remains a great witness to me when I am bogged down on this road of life I now walk.

Will I actually live while I have life? If ever anyone had a reason to “sit it out” I would say pre and post treatments, surgery, and the after-shock of it all would have been the perfect opportunity for Brad. There surely was a physical, emotional, and spiritual recuperation time of many months. Sometimes giving up was tempting. I remember vividly the day Brad told me he had turned Recuperation Corner on Cancer road! I came home from work to find a very excited, happy Brad. He told me he felt he was “alive again, finally alive!” From then on Brad made decisions to participate in what was a vastly altered life rather than to be a passive spectator. He did not demand we pay court to his remaining infirmities only that we try to understand them. Sometimes, I did, and sometimes not so much.

My strongest memory of Brad’s decision to live again is when, tucked in bed beside me, he told me with confidence that there was “absolutely no reason I cannot take care of these grandbabies more and help the girls out. I can do that, Pam,” and from that point forward, he did!

My second strongest memory of that time is the first fight we had after Brad told me he felt “alive again.” It was another evening coming home from work to find Brad sitting in his chair with Bible on lap, praying, and waiting on me to decide about a little dinner for us. SNAP went the thread of my tenuous end-of-day composure, and FLIP, on went my self-pity button. Umm, umm did Brad get an ear-full of what I thought being alive again should mean in relation to helping ME rather than “spending half the day praying for other people for heaven’s sake!” I know, I know—I am not proud of it, but that’s how it went down.

Now, the beauty of the memory is in Brad’s response. He looked at me surprised and a little offended. With his jaw line tight and set, he was quiet other than to say “Hmmm.” After about 45 seconds his face relaxed, he closed his Bible, stood up and said in a quiet voice, “I think I should have prayed a little longer before I told you about feeling alive again!” We went to Sonic for dinner!

The next night when I got home dinner was on the stove, and the hardwood floors had been gone over with the Swiffer broom! You see, Brad was someone who actually listened to what you said, and he prayed about what his responses should be. Sometimes, he might struggle and have to go over to Longview Lake to pray longer, but he wanted to live life the way Jesus wanted him to live it. He kept trying right up to the very, very, very end. How cool is that!

I will end this in a way that I know Brad would appreciate—with a line from a movie. “I have layers, Donkey. Layers—like an onion.” Brad had many layers. He was so much more than humor and mistakes. Sure, like an onion, some of the layers could be stinky, but also like onions, what a rich, wonderful flavor Brad added to our lives. His witness lives on still in the good, the positive, and in all the hard things he suffered too. This is what Brad would want. This brings honor to Jesus. May we all be so fortunate as to leave layers of legacy when we are gone from this earth.

When I start to post something here on Brad’s memorial site, I often waver between the section about leaving a legacy and the section about tributes. I wonder where to place what I have written. As more time passes since his death, I wonder if what I have written is enough. Does my written word seem shallow or overblown? Is this really a part of Brad’s legacy? Is this actually a tribute to him? Legacy? Tribute?

Some, who’ve been left behind after a person dies, know all too well their deceased’s legacy but would never construe it to be worthy of tribute. I find it very sad that people can actually leave a legacy unworthy of tribute, but I know it happens. My heart hurts for people who must struggle to come to terms with grief that is layered with the pain of knowing the deceased person caused more harm than good in their life.

Other people die and leave amazing legacies that will keep everyone talking about them for years. They leave legacies positively affecting so many people outside their own family that it is hard to keep from paying tribute repeatedly when you hear their name. Sometimes the real person behind the public legacy may get lost in all the hype.

I just finished reading an “unauthorized” biography about Paul Newman by Shawn Levy, Harmony Books, 2009. Legacy, tribute, and reality all woven into this story about one man’s life! Paul Newman left a legacy of more than good looks and excellent films. This man made and gave away to worthy causes millions and millions of dollars through his Newman’s Own Foundation which continues to operate with its most notable offering being Hole in The Wall Camps founded to serve critically ill children. This money was completely separate from the private wealth disbursed to various charities and causes. Yet Paul Newman certainly left more than this wonderful public legacy. He was a real person who left behind friends, grandchildren, children, and a wife of many years who no doubt misses him very much as she approaches the first anniversary of his death. I am sure their tributes to him refer much more to his private legacy rather than the very public one.

My Brad was not famous or super successful in business. He did not make a lot of money. He was not the most talented or best-looking man in the room as Paul Newman no doubt was many times during his life! Brad was not a brilliant scholar. He did not exude unending charm. His patience and wisdom had boundaries. He was in no way a picture of perfection. He was in fact like many of us. He was mostly average with moments of amazing.

Does the idea of leaving a legacy behind fit when you write about an “average Joe” rather than Paul Newman? I sure do think so, but many of us squirm in discomfort when asked to think in those terms about the everyday people in our lives, especially if they have died. What makes it so difficult for us? Maybe we all need a Shawn Levy to gather the stories and do some unauthorized writing for us so we can go on sharing those kinds of memories if we are blest enough to have them! God, please help us to continue to find ways without hesitancy to pay tribute to those like Brad who lived average lives well and left their imprint in our hearts. Sometimes, I just need to hear those good, warm memories.

I am able to report with great pleasure that Brad will never really die as long as his children are living! His legacy of humor, his legacy of speaking the truth, and his legacy of fighting the good fight of faith lives on in both our daughters. Thank God--what a gift to me!

When we first stepped as novices onto the tear-stained road of grief and began this journey, I was not fully aware or appreciative of this truth. Now I am able to proclaim it with a joy-filled heart! Brad's years of life and much of what those years contained are woven into the characters of our two precious children. He lives on in them.

Humor--a tonic for the frazzled mind! Brad had a way of finding that little spark of humor in just about any situation. Sometimes, when he could not find it, he created it (for instance, wouldn't it be funny to make Mike think his target practice shot went astray and hit Brad instead--Hmmm)! The Lord knows there were times when very serious me wished for a more serious Brad. But the Lord knew what Brad needed to make it in the life He had for Brad to live. And the Lord knew what Brad's three girls would need to help them hold on when Brad was gone. Funny stories provide healing therapy. Both of our children have ready wits and that same wonderful ability to laugh at the world and themselves when others of us (meaning of course me) think it might be better to curl-up and cry. Our daughters have carried me on the wings of their father's sense of humor!

Brad was a person who placed an extremely high value on truth. He felt truthfulness was a kind of guiding light for the road of life. He was as equally hard on himself as he was on us when it came to truthfulness.  One of his rock-solid directives to both our daughters during difficult times was, "Look in the mirror and ask yourself what part in this you own. Be truthful with yourself and God even when you are unable to be truthful with anyone else." Brad learned with practice and the Lord's loving guidance to speak the truth in love to others and to himself (most of the time). I see this value practiced in the lives of our daughters. It guides them on their own roadways of life. Interestingly, this strong reflection of one of Brad's core values shines off our children and onto to my road lighting my way.

I've written in other places on this web site that Brad would be the first to tell you he was far from perfect, and he would no doubt tell you that with an example and a laugh. I'm sure anyone who knew him would be able to share a story or two about mistakes Brad made in his lifetime. But anyone who really knew him well would also tell you that he always, ALWAYS kept going right back to his best friend, Jesus, to find his way in and out of life's adventures---the good, the bad, and the ugly (cancer)! I watched Brad, during a particularly hard time in his work life, sit every morning reading the scripture and praying. He never looked any happier when he was done. After a couple of months of this, I asked him, "Are you getting anything out of your quiet time with the Lord each morning?" His response was truthful (no humor on this one), "No. I don't see or feel anything different. It's all pretty dry, but I will be faithful because this is what the Lord asks of me. I know that He loves me and He is working. His Word does not return void, Pam. I trust Him." I was awed by this steadfast faith over and over and over again right up to the day Brad died. He did not feel any better, was not getting well, was not happy about leaving his girls, but he trusted Jesus. I now have the privilege of watching and listening to our daughters as they walk their own faith journey with trust, with firm belief in Jesus' love for them, and with a steadfastness which they learned from their daddy.  

Whenever I need a warm body version of Brad, I seek out our children. They carry him, his legacy and all he offered around with them even when they are unaware of it. Thank you, Jesus, for this amazing fact!

In the beginning, when being a grandparent was a new idea, Brad wondered for a time, "Why now?" However, in his usual fashion, he moved on from there to, "God has His reasons."  And so He did!

Brad was able to know 4 of his six grandchildren before he went to heaven. He found a unique joy in each one. One of his greatest joys was continuing on with the "For example" plan he had long ago created with his own children. 

What is the "For example" plan? It's very simple. For everything Brad wanted to share, teach, or admonish about, he would have an example to use to illustrate his point more exactly. 

Even at the end, when his baby, Amanda, was in the room with him attempting to "be there" for him, he turned the time into yet another opportunity to share examples and to teach her something about going on with life without him.

We often teased Brad that if he should ever die, we would have to put "For example" on his headstone. Of course we didn't do that, but you know, written in our hearts and minds are those "examples" and the love and/or humor that was behind most of them.   

 NOW I UNDERSTAND
When I first began to walk on this road You've brought me to, I thought the greatest thing woud be to have you use me to share the wonders of the cross with the sinner that is lost, to heal the sick and set the captive free. But now I understand that when You took me by the hand, Your great desire, Lord, was to make me like Your son, with a heart to worship and to know Your presence, To let Your Spirit form Jesus in me. All those things I tried to do, all the words I tried to say, When all along You just wanted me to love You; to enjoy that special time that would be just Yours and mine--Every day--learning how You love me. And now I understand what delights Your Father's heart. Not all those things I'd do, but to come and be with You. To worship at Your throne, spending time with You alone, To let Your spirit form Jesus in me.

(by Barbara Richmond, 1989)