Saying Bye to "B"

There was an uncle. He was the young, cool, hip uncle that all the nieces and nephews wanted to hang out with. His name was Brian, but affectionately became known as "B". He was a bit wild, a little crazy, and extremely endearing.

He lived a different lifestyle than most of us. He was a musician. He was a song writer. He wasn't famous, at least to most people. But, he was famous in the town he lived in and to those who loved him. He loved his tiny cabin on a plot of land he saved for years to buy.
                                                                              
He had some girlfriends over the years, but only one stole his heart. They were married a couple of years before she realized that B would never be the B she hoped she could change him to be. But, oh, how she loved who B was.

We all loved who B was. For, our Uncle B was filled with love. He never pretended to be something he wasn't, he was simply B. And, simply put, he was easy to love.
                                                  
To my mother and aunt and uncle, he was a loyal brother. He was their baby brother, eleven years younger than the oldest. To my grandma, just her baby.

To his nieces and nephews, he was the cool young uncle. He took us to gigs. He made us get up and sing with him. He told us we were good. And we knew he loved us.

Mid-January of this year, B was diagnosed with stage 4 liver cancer at the age of 49. Although we're all pretty certain he wanted to die alone, God knew best. God knew B needed us and we needed him in the last hours of his life.
                                            
True to the legacy of B,our family pulled together for one of the most evident displays of love I have ever witnessed. As we gathered around his bed and sang songs that we weren't sure he could hear, the tears flowed. The "children" watched as our parents cried and spoke words like, "I'm proud to be your sister," and, "I'm so sorry I wasn't there for you more". Broken. All of us.

But, it was through our brokenness that long needed conversations were spoken. Apprehensive "side" hugs became big engulfing hugs. Laughter- deep laughter. Tears- from deep grief. All of it beautiful.
                                           
The memorial service was not in a church, but rather by the river. A "BYOLC" it was. (bring your own lawn chair) B's friends came. For some of them, the service was also BYOB and that was OK.

My dad wore a t-shirt, jeans, and sandals and spoke a beautiful, quick message about how well B loved people and how God is love so B, in turn, was filled with God. There was a few "Amen's", but more "Right On's!" And that was OK. There were memories shared and songs sung, but mostly there was love. So, in turn, there was God.

(First picture of B and my mom, courtesy of my sister, Amanda. The rest of the photos are courtesy of my very talented cousin, Teri.)