In Memorium

BRIAN BRADY
So, it's Thursday, August 2nd and I'm sitting at my desk at work, putting together a new order to enter when the phone rings. I answer with my usual professional greeting. It's my dad. Now, understand that my dad doesn't call much. There's no real reason for that except that he's not a talkative guy; not one prone to idle chit chat. He calls when he has a reason. In the rare instance that he calls "just to check in", I'm usually so excited and flattered by the call that I lose control of my chatterbox, talk his ear off and fairly quickly sense that tone in his voice that says, "okay, so THIS is why I don't call 'just to check in'". So, I'm at work and he calls. I'm surprised to hear his voice because he just called a few days ago to discuss our summer visit and one call is unusual - two in one week is unheard of.
"Watcha up to?" It just comes out of my mouth all casual like that. Had I known what was coming, I would have checked the casual tone at the door.
"I have some bad news." Whenever he calls and says "I have some bad news," someone's just died. It's never that my grade school is being torn down and replaced with overpriced condos, or that my favorite hometown store burned to the ground, or that my childhood home was rented out to a fanatical cult and my bedroom is being used for weekly sacrifices. All of those would be worthy of such an introductory statement in a rare phone call, but no. So I wait through the pause...
"Brian Brady died yesterday."
"What? That's not possible...what...I mean...how? How can that be? HOW?"
And then he tells me.
Brian Brady. A dear dear family friend for many years; who lived down the street when I was a teenager; let me swim in his pool all the time.
Brian Brady and his wife Barbara: two of the funniest people ever. And, the only couple that managed, when my parents divorced, to stay close friends with my mother and father equally. My mother and my best friend and I stayed with Brian and Barbara over the weekend of my bridal shower.
Brian Brady. One of my father's very best friends. They get together regularly, frequently. They gather with 2 or 3 other friends on Sunday mornings, or late at night (depending on the time of the race) and watch Formula 1 races and eat donuts and danishes or drink like teenagers.
Brian Brady. The last person I would have expected to be the reaon for an "I have some bad news" call. So vibrant - really the epitome of life itself.
All this runs through my mind in a split second. Then Dad answers the question I've already forgotten I'd asked. How.
"I guess he had a heart attack."
"What? Brian? But that makes no sense..."
And he tells me all he knows. And as he tells it, his voice cracks once. Any daughter can tell you that fathers voices just don't crack. And when it DOES happen, we daughters feel an instant surge of panic. Because for a fleeting moment we are reminded that he is not Zeus, even though we live our daily lives under the certainty that he is just that. This is the fifth time I've heard his voice crack. 1. when he was telling me that he had moved out of the house - for good. 2. when he called to tell me that my grandfather had died rather unexpectedly 3. when he called to tell me that my grandmother had died very unexpectedly 4. when he called to tell me that his very best friend had cancer and 5. this call.
Brian was home alone. He called 911 and was, I guess, able to say he needed help. But by the time the ambulance arrived, he had died. They took him to the hospital where he was pronounced DOA. Barbara was out of town for the afternoon, making her daily trip to see her mother (another fabulous person)in a nursing home an hour or so away. She had no idea what had happened at home. Brian died sometime just after 3pm. The police searched for a way to contact Barbara, but no one knew how to reach her. So they just waited, checking in at the house periodically. One of the calls the police made to locate Barbara was to Brian's insurance agent, one of the Formula 1 friends, who in turn told my dad - they happened to be at the same party that afternoon.
Barbara arrived home a little after 5pm to find her home a bit disheveled. She thought perhaps there had been a home invasion. Then she saw Brian's wallet and glasses and thought he must just be in the backyard. It was then that the police arrived, bearing the news.
Brian and Barbara Brady. Not only two of the most vibrant and engaged people ever, but certainly the most perfectly in-love couple I have ever met. They were truly one together, not two seperate souls. What that news must have done to her...I can't even imagine.
So I say to Barbara this: "till death do us part" is a load of bull. He could never leave you and he will always walk beside you. You are in my thoughts and in my heart. We will remember Brian always, smiling, laughing and with eyes sparkling.


Brian and Barbara at my wedding, July 1, 1995