My great love, my soul mate, my best friend died suddenly of a major cardiac event on March 19. It will take a liftime to process the shock and grief of his death. Many more words will come in the coming months and years as I remember my beloved, but right now, the best thing to share are the words I spoke at his memorial service. And please take a few moments out of your day to watch the tribute video. It’s a beautiful collection of photos set to some of his and our favorite songs.

As spoken at his memorial:

Two weeks ago, I reached out to many of you to solicit stories and ideas to celebrate Brian’s pending 40^th birthday. Brian rarely took the time to truly celebrate himself and sometimes wondered about if he had a lasting impact on people. The overwhelming turnout today and support of the past week answers that; he would be overjoyed and humbled to see you all.

I never imagined the birthday book I envisioned would turn into a memorial book. Common themes arise through all of the stories—from all walks of his life—that illustrate what a genuine person he was in every relationship, in every situation. One story cannot even begin to tackle the breadth of Brian’s person, but through these many stories, several themes arise that begin to touch on him.

One: Brian as a teacher: Both of Brian’s parents spoke to me about the teacher Brian has been since a young age. Through working with special needs children when he was just a child himself, to running summer camps at the Cambridge, Ohio, YMCA, Brian gravitated toward helping others and—a great big kid himself in many ways—was the perfect teacher for children, many of whom sorely needed a strong male role model. Of course, Brian’s biggest teaching passion was that of Brazilian jiu jitsu. I watched him start and grow three programs through our years in Ohio and Pennsylvania, and he was within weeks of launching a new one locally. Many of those students he called lifelong friends, and many are sitting in this room today. He always told me the martial arts community is small, mighty and rallies together. He was right.

Two: Brian and animals: Brian’s affinity for all living creatures truly meant all. When I met him, he had a large collection of scorpions and tarantulas, including one giant hairy tarantula that broke free from its enclosure while in my apartment. Brian couldn’t find it before leaving for an overnight commitment and he told me if I found it to call him and he’d walk me through how to pick it up and put it back. Fortunately, it remained well-hidden in my bathrobe until Brian eventually found it…and I got rid of the bathrobe. Brian delighted in the animals on our property, including chickens, ducks, goats and he was exploring sheep this year. A few winters ago, we had a bad snowstorm and a chicken got stuck in a snowdrift and was wet and ran the risk of hypothermia. Brian, being who he is, brought the chicken inside, found my hairdryer and hairdried the chicken, much to the delight of my nephews, who were over at the time. Animals loved him right back. We always said dogs are great judges of character. Lexi was very timid around males when Brian came into our lives, and I expected her to be frightened of him when they met. Much to my surprise, she saw this large, male stranger and ran into his arms. Lexi knew immediately, just as I did, that he was a special one.

Three: Brian as family man: Brian was the best father. He told me frequently that Landon and Bryce completely turned his world and his priorities upside down, that nothing was more important to him than raising these boys and giving them a wonderful life. He couldn’t wait to share his wisdom with them, teach them and share passions together. He created a magical yard for Landon to explore and Landon delighted in following Brian and helping him with every task in and out. He showed Landon and Bryce how to love unconditionally, how to exhibit patience and how to problem solve even in stressful situations.

He was the husband I did not deserve. I suspected from our first date that he was the one for me and am floored by the magnitude of the love we shared and the connection of our hearts and minds. As I told him in our wedding vows, “Together we can be, we can dream and we can achieve what we cannot do alone. Our infinite love knows no boundaries. Together–hand in hand, heart in heart–we are unstoppable.” Even in death, our love is unstoppable.

This past Christmas morning the four of us were around the Christmas tree. Bryce was chewing on wrapping paper, Landon was playing with new toys, Brian was trying to put another new toy together and I sat there looking around at the scene and thought, “Look at this life we have built. Look at this extraordinary life. Look what we made.”

Brian and I often spoke of adventure. The inside of his wedding ring is engraved with “Our Greatest Adventure” and our wedding date. When I told him he was going to be a daddy, I gave him a onesie that said, “Adventure is calling and I must go.”   

Our definition of adventure evolved in the nearly 10 short years we had together. Our initial ideas of adventure were the grand trips of ocean kayak-camping in Maine, which we got to do; the family cruise we had booked for next year, which I bought the dress I’m wearing today for; or backpacking through Glacier National Park, which he will now do only in spirit with me. But the smaller adventures were what comprised much of our daily lives. We made adventures in our own yard and nearby parks, most notably taking Landon hunting for the Gruffalo. Although the Gruffalo remains elusive, Landon, Bryce and I will continue that quest.

Much like this building isn’t what makes a church—it’s the people in it—our destinations and activities weren’t what made our adventure. We were. Brian and I were the adventure. Then Brian, Landon, Bryce and I were the adventure. Landon, Bryce and I will continue to be the adventure with the eternal and guiding presence of Brian’s heart and love.

My parents took the above photo at their house the night before Brian died. I never thought this silly photo with Christmas pajamas in March and our haggard faces would become one of our only family photos.