Bryan's childhood friend, Andy (you may be Andrew to other people, but you'll always be Andy to us) gave a beautiful eulogy at the service yesterday. He's allowing me to post it here. Nathan asked me afterward, "Mommy, did everyone know that he was talking to us kids?" Only a true friend could make Bryan's kids feel like the eulogy was given for them alone.
My Oldest, Longest Lasting, Best Friend
Bryan Bain
June 16, 1968 – June 29, 2012
July 2, 2012
Aimee asked if I would think about
giving Bryan’s
eulogy, and I told her that I didn’t have to think twice about it; I’m
honored. And I would like to tell you
kids [Bryan’s and Aimee’s children] some stories about your Dad when he was
about your age …
I’ve always thought of Bryan as my oldest,
longest lasting, best friend. I’ve known
him since the first grade – since Mrs. Link’s class at Coker Elementary, when
he called me up after school. I was in
my bedroom, playing with my Matchbox cars, when my Mom came in and said, “You
have a phone call.” I’d never had a
phone call before. Bryan gave me my first phone call, calling
from two doors down and across the street, asking my Mom, “Can Andy come over
and play?” He was an assertive little
first grader, and when I saw the huge swimming pool in his backyard, he became my
instant best friend!
We were inseparable during those
early years – me, Bryan, Jennifer, and some other kids in our gang – all playing
Marco Polo ’til we were prunes; then sun tanning on his diving board – talking
about what we wanted to be when we grew-up, while watching the lazy summer clouds
drift by. I told Bryan that I wanted to be an architect when I
grew-up, and he said, “You just want to be an architect because Mr. Brady on
the Brady Bunch is an architect.” The
things kids say … The truth is that I liked Mr. Brady’s red convertible, and I
thought if I was an architect, I could drive a cool car.
Bryan actually taught me how to swim! “All you have to do,” he said, “is hold your
breath, pinch your nose, go under, stick out your other hand, and start kicking
your feet like crazy.” It worked! No more floaties ever again!
After swimming, we’d go inside and
watch TV. Famished, we’d devour pickles,
our favorite. Double- and triple-dipping
them in the mustard jar, an acquired taste that Bryan introduced me to, and something that I
don’t think his Mom appreciated! All our
pickle debris left floating in her mustard … The Flintstones, The Jetsons, Bewitched, I Dream of Jeanie, the Brady
Bunch – these reruns were all our shows, and of course, Bryan’s favorite, Lost in Space!
I used to try to debate him on the merits
of Lost in Space vs. Star Trek vs. Battlestar Galactica vs. Star
Wars, when it later came out, but he’d have none of that … Anyone who knows
Bryan, knows
there’s no winning a debate with him. Lost in Space it was, and we reenacted
scenes from Lost in Space, developed
our own sequels to the show, turned his playhouse into the Jupiter 2, and created our own robot from a metal trash can with
some old dryer duct tubing for the arms.
Even as a kid, Bryan was already on
his way to being a techie type – he rigged up an old cassette recorder to the
TV, so we could record all those shows (no doubt, in violation of copyright laws),
and when the knob on the cassette recorder broke, he found a pair of pliers to
use; nothing would hold him back. Back
before the days of cable TV, and when were a little bit older, we’d climb this
tree in front of his parent’s bedroom to get up on the roof of his house so
that we could turn the TV antenna just the right way when the weather was just
right to just barely pick up the Kerrville station. Then Bryan’s
poor Dad would come home and not be able to watch the local news! “Hey, what’s wrong with the TV?!”
Spending the night at Bryan’s house was always a
blast! We’d stay up until midnight to
watch the TV stations sign-off with the Star Spangled Banner, the end of the
broadcast day, something they don’t do anymore … And then there were our bikes! We rode them all over Hill
Country Village
and Hollywood Park, back when there used to be a bunch of trails before
it got so developed. We’d cut through the
trails to Highway 281, which used to just be a four-lane highway with some
barbed wire on both sides back then, if you can believe it. We’d cross the highway and park our bikes
outside the Pizza Hut, which is still there, on the northbound side between Brook
Hollow and Thousand Oaks. That Pizza Hut used to have a PacMan video
game and later Ms. PacMan, and we loved them both! Running up our Coca Cola tab, we’d stay there
all day, in the air condition, playing PacMan and Ms. PacMan. Those were wonderful summers, and I’ve hardly
scratched the surface, keeping it G-rated, but Bryan gave me a beautiful childhood and
lifelong friendship, for which I will always be grateful.
*
* *
As the years went on and we got
older, we went our separate ways some. I
got involved in Scouting High Adventure stuff; Bryan
transferred to MacArthur
High School, and I stayed
at Churchill, but ours was that type of friendship that, even if we hadn’t seen
each other for a while, we could still get back together and pick up like it
was just yesterday.
I was absolutely honored to be there
when Bryan and Aimee got married, and one of my fondest memories of Bryan is
actually a time not too long ago … He and I met at Specht’s Store in Bulverde,
about five years ago … Sitting out on the back porch of that place, listening
to the rain, we had a real honest heart-to-heart about our lives, about some of
our hopes and fears, about his older brother Mike and that fateful day back in
1981, and about how our lives had gone separate and similar ways since
childhood. It’s probably one of the
closest times I’ve ever felt to Bryan.
I used to think that I went off in
pursuit of my career, and Bryan stayed home to be a Dad, but that’s actually
not quite true, for Bryan did have a career – a very successful career, with
his own software and consulting firm and
he had a beautiful family, while overcoming
his own set of hardships and challenges; things weren’t always easy for Bryan,
but he wasn’t one to let obstacles get in his way, and one only has to spend
five minutes in the company of his kids to see how loving and kind and
beautiful they are to each other.
Nathan, Megan, Evan, Justin,
Carsten, Steffen, and Austin – I want you all to know that you’re Dad was a very
good man and he loved each of you more than you might be able to understand at
this point in your young lives, but you were each on his mind as he started to
get sick. One of the last things he said
to me, when I saw him in the hospital a few weeks ago, was about you kids – he
called you each a miracle. You are his seven miracles …
It’s really not fair that he died much
too young. And I don’t know why some
things like this happen. I’d like to
think that it’s all part of some bigger plan, and some day, we’ll all understand
– some day we’ll see how all the pieces of the puzzle fit together, but that
will take time. Right now, we only have
one piece of the puzzle, and it’s hard to see what bigger picture it might be a
part of. But in time, maybe we’ll get
another piece of the puzzle, then another, and then another, and maybe it will
start to make sense; at least that is my hope …
What I do know is that Bryan was a man of faith. When I saw him in the hospital a few weeks
ago, the first question he asked me was, “So, how’s your faith going?” I was thinking, “Wait a minute, I’m supposed
to be ministering to you, and you’re ministering to me, what’s wrong with this
picture?” But that’s the way he was … Underneath
all his friendly banter, dry wit, and attempts to engage me in political and
theological debates, was a genuine concern for my welfare and the welfare of
others. And though we might occasionally
quibble over the latest Presidential controversies, when it came to the stuff
that really mattered most – life, love, family, the existence of God, we
agreed.
*
* *
In his book, Kayak Morning: Reflections on Love, Grief, and Small Boats, Roger
Rosenblatt writes that you have to “transform your grief” (2012, p. 20) into
something positive, something productive, and Bryan’s death has already given me pause to examine
my own life and what’s important to me. He’s
reminded me not to wait too long to do the things I really want to do. I know it may sound cliché, but you can’t
keep saying, “Well, maybe someday” or “next year,” for someday or next year may
not come. If you want to do it, whatever
it is, then you need to do it now;
don’t wait too long.
Bryan actually accomplished quite a lot in
his short life with his business, his family, and his commitment to his faith,
and he didn’t always have it so easy.
God only knows how much more he might’ve achieved, had he just had more
time. I think his advice to us might be to
get our priorities in order – put God first, and with God first, I’ve found
that all the other little details I often worry about have a way of working
themselves out, as we begin to know a new freedom.
I’d like to close with a prayer …
Most gracious God, Ruler of the
Universe, I thank you for my best friend, Bryan, for the beautiful childhood he
gave me and for all the ways he touched our lives – shaped us and helped us become
who we are today – for the values and commitments he left us, and for the ways
he will remain in our hearts and in our memories. I especially pray for his family during this
time – for Aimee and his beautiful children, may they be healthy and safe, and may
they know wonderful childhoods as Bryan and I shared; in Christ’s name, I pray,
amen.
Andrew D. Reichert
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