Dear Brandon

I miss you, big brother. It has been almost 19 months since you left us. Less than three months ago you were joined by our sweet mother. I know that you are busy up there. You must be so happy to be with Grandma and Grandpa, too.

Owen is turning eight in a few months. I was thinking that instead of buying him a new set of scriptures, I would give him yours. He'll need a new case, in blue, his favorite color. I wish you could be there for his baptism.

I miss your bear hugs, the way you would crack my back and squeeze the breath out of me with your strong arms. I miss the way you grinned and teased relentlessly. If I could go back in time and tell my teenage self that someday I'd be missing that...ha! Life is a crazy ride and I am holding on tight. I wish the Savior would hurry up and get here so we can all be together again.

Soren doesn't remember you. He knows who you are, because we talk about you often. He can identify you in a photo. But I don't think he remembers you. He was too little when you left. Not quite two when you visited last.

Owen has pictures of you on his wall. He gets a sad look on his face when we talk about you, and he gets very possessive of anything that you gave him. Even a pencil or a marker becomes special because you gave it especially to him. He's very attached to things that way. I'm glad he has things to hold onto that remind him of you. I have always been so grateful for the way that you 'uncled' him. You called often, just to talk to him. He was old enough to take the phone to his bedroom and close the door and have a private conversation with you. Thank you for reaching out to him and maintaining that special relationship.

I remember the discussion we had about being called 'Uncle.' You were trying to avoid the title because it made you feel old, but I insisted that it was what set you apart as having a special tie to my children. You were never just Brandon. Brandon could be anybody, a neighbor, a friend, somebody's dad. You had to be Uncle Brandon.

Do you remember riding in the back of Uncle Marty's white pickup truck? He used to toss nickels and dimes out the window into the bed of the truck where we would scramble gleefully to claim the money. Maybe he only did that once or twice, but it made a lasting impression on my young mind. Uncles are fun. Uncles are cool. Uncles do neat things for you. You were a great uncle.

I love you, Bruno. I miss your optimism. I miss you. Check in on us, will you?

Remembering Brandon, March 28, 2009

On March 28 we honored Brandon's memory by doing one of his very favorite things: Eating dinner at the Mecca in Pittsburg. The downtown has been undergoing renovations, but we were glad to see that the old Mecca still stands. It was good to run into Bishop Daynes, who spoke at Brandon's funeral, and his wife, Susan. We were surprised to find out it was their first visit to the Mecca! And to think that I flew cross country just to eat there! (not really). As usual the food was delicious. We ate chips and salsa and made sure to eat enough that we had to ask for seconds on the salsa. Larry, me, Rachel, Clayton and Rolan.

Closing Prayer

    Our Father in heaven,
We express gratitude for all who have helped in these services today: for the preparations, flowers, and food. At this time we've come to mourn our loss. Father we come here to gather and mourn for the loss of our beloved son, brother, cousin, nephew, uncle, and dear friend Brandon Scott Dayley.
    We are commanded to live together in love insomuch that we should weep for them that die. Brandon, in his 31 years, was an example of love, service, and kindness—especially toward those less fortunate than himself. He was known for lifting up the hands that hang down, the poor and downtrodden in spirit. Many times in his life he looked after the least of his brethren.
    This day Brandon stands before his Maker and our Maker, his God and our God.
    God be with you Brandon! God be with you till we meet again. God our Father, into they hands we commend Brandon to keep in safety, love, and peace till we meet again at Jesus' feet and we do this in the sacred name of Jesus Christ. Amen.

In Memoriam

For my family, with love

Brandon's Pond

Rachel and I visited the pond at LMC on 3.26.09. A young security guard walked us to the place where they found Brandon's body. The pond was larger than I imagined but beautiful, filled with ducks, geese, seagulls, fish and even some turtles. We were told that Brandon used to walk around the pond every day and he always walked with someone, but the day he died, for some reason, he went alone. Very peaceful there. Did he have a feeling that he'd be leaving us? I don't know, but I tried to see things as Brandon might have. Did he talk to the ducks? I'm sure of it. Feed them? Oh, yeah. Say hello to the turtles? Of course he did. Brandon loved nature and he loved the outdoors. And I'm sure he noticed Mt. Diablo in the background near the pond's other end. (I didn't get a picture of that). I'm definitely going back.

Your attention, please

Alright, y'all. I'm working on a slide show, which I would like to have up by Saturday. I have a very large quantity of photos I am sifting through, including all of the family photos in our mother's possession, all of my own photos, and some of Brandon's own photos. I am very aware of my inability to include everyone who has ever been a part of his life, nor do I think it justified; however, if you have a photograph of yourself with Brandon that means a lot to you that you would like included, please do email it to me immediately (my email address is on the right sidebar). I do have many family photos, some of high school friends, cousins, etc. I hate to hurt anyone's feelings but do keep in mind that this is being created through the lens of a sister, AND there are only so many seconds in a song. I'll do my best. And finally, my scanner is really terrible and I apologize for the quality of some of the images. Given the deadline, I figure I'll let well enough alone.

final farewell

The night Brandon died I was making peanut butter cookies. It was around 6:30. I had this warm feeling surround me as I thought of him. I wanted to call him, just to tell him that I loved him, but I looked at the clock and talked myself out of it. It was after 3pm in California and I was sure he'd be at school. I made a note to myself to call him later.

We got the call at 9:30 at night. I was lying in bed with Soren, nursing him off to sleep. Austin answered the phone. He brought the phone to my mom, who was in the living room, then dashed back into our bedroom. "Brandon is dead."

I don't know when I made the connection, whether it was that terrible, interminable night or sometime in the coming days, but the moment that warm feeling enveloped me in the kitchen was about the same time they found Brandon's body in the pond. I wondered if I had acted on that feeling if I might have spoken with him moments before he died. But I have felt and continue to believe that he was giving me one last hug. I had that sudden warm feeling for him because I was feeling his presence. His spirit had already left his body and he was coming to say goodbye, to check in on his loved ones on his way to the other side.

I love you, Brandon. I miss you so much.