Wow, it has been a while since I last posted. Although, I'd say that I have a pretty good excuse. I had been home (my place in Utah) less than 48 hours when I got the call about my grandpa. 3 days later, I was on a plane back home for the funeral. 6 days after that, I was on a plane again back to Utah. The next 3 days consisted of family-related things in Utah + the burial + a memorial service.
Afterward, we spent the entire day with extended family on the Brown side, and once evening came, Mom and Grandma came with me to Provo to see my place and stay the night. Thursday morning we went to breakfast and then met up with Kent, Grandma's cousin, who lost his son two weeks prior to Grandpa's death (he is the father of John Jones - the one who died in the caving accident in Utah a few weeks ago) and had a really good chat with him. It was really nice to talk with him and be able to relate in such similar ways to having just lost a loved one. And though it is still incredibly difficult, I think he may have helped Grandma see Grandpa's death in a different light. He gave some really good insight. Got me and Mom thinking as well.
This whole thing has got me thinking now more than ever about the importance of family. And I'm not talking about parents and siblings - I mean everyone. Aunts, uncles, cousins, 2nd cousins, cousins once or twice removed... all of it. Family is family and in some way or another, we will all be 'stuck' together forever, so we might as well learn to like it now! Okay, that was trying to lighten the mood a bit, because I already love all of my family. But what I realized, is that I don't even know a lot of my family. I don't know a thing about most of my extended family. And when I say "extended family", I mean beyond the immediate aunts, uncles, and cousins. I mean everyone else. The relatives you have to sit and draw a map to figure out how you're related and what to call each other before simply resigning to "cousin" as the simple answer.
If there is one good thing that has happened from my grandpa's death, it is the reiteration of the importance of family. In the past 3 weeks, I have met so many distant relatives that I can't believe took me this long to meet! (or to get re-acquainted with). My mom has talked about her aunts, Kim and Kay, so many times growing up... but I had never actually met them. Kay's son Rob and I were even friends on facebook... but I still had yet to meet him before the funeral.
On the Brown side (the 1st three were on the Harvey side) I met so many cousins 'once or twice or three times removed' that I couldn't keep track. The only two whose names I remember are Joanne and Paul, and they are awesome. As we were leaving the memorial service in Bountiful, Paul (in his 60s - grandfather-ly type) shouted from his car, "Hey! Maybe I'll see you again in this lifetime, eh?" I will definitely go visit him. Grandma's cousin Kent, whom I spoke of previously, once I "met" him I realized that I remembered him - he was one of the cool 'cousins' at all the Jones Family Reunions I'd been to (my great grandma was a Jones). He reminded me of some of the crazy songs we all sang together.
Doug and Kay (Grandpa's brother and brother's wife) I had not seen since 2004... and they live in Salt Lake, just up the street from Roger! (Grandpa's other brother, whom I visit all the time) Three of their kids DeAnn, Jeff, and Kenny (and their families) all live in Salt Lake and most of them I can't even remember the last time I saw them - before last week. And I'm only 45 minutes away! Then there's Grandma's side of the family (the part currently residing in Utah), with her twin sister Judy's kids, and *their* kids all an hour or less away. But again, I had not seen any of them in 4 or 5 years.
I learned so many new stories about family members of mine this month. I heard new stories about my grandpa (which, if you knew my grandpa, that's pretty surprising), the full story about an uncle of mine passing out in a hospital, childhood stories of the uncles, stories about my great grandma Brown (referred to in my family - Mom and siblings - as Grandma Jean), and so many others. (And for those of you who know my middle name, yes, she is the reason it is Jean). At the memorial service Mom even learned how she got her name. I found personal histories of my great grandpa and great-great grandma that I started to read. I'm learning all sorts of things about family members - both living and dead.
Nowadays, family can be so spread out. My "immediate" family alone spans 6 states and 3 times zones. However, we are blessed with modern technology that allows us to keep in touch in ways we never could have before. We don't have to wait 5 years to send snail mail anymore - we have email, facebook, text messages, picture messages, and the good 'ol phone call.
If you don't already keep in touch with family very well, do it. Our time on this earth is a lot shorter than we realize. Make amends now. Don't let it wait. Your father will always be your father, brother always a brother, etc. Shoot, cousins are sometimes like siblings too. Keep in touch with them also! Family is an amazing blessing and we should never take it for granted. I myself am guilty of that and am going to make it a goal in the coming year to visit as much of my 'super extended family' in Utah as possible.
I don't care how corny this sounds - I mean every word of it:
Friends come and go, but a family really is forever.
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Saturday, December 5, 2009
Robert Martin Brown: A Husband, A Father, My Grandfather
Grandpa Brown died today. It’s still so weird to me. It’s like it’s not even real. I keep thinking about it and somehow it doesn’t seem real. I’m going to go home for Christmas and he’s still going to be there, just like always. He’s the glue that keeps the family together. No matter what differences everyone else in the family has, they can all agree on one thing: Robert Martin Brown was and is and always will be a great man. He was a loving husband, father, grandfather, brother, bishop, stake president, friend, and so much more. I can’t even begin to count the number of lives he has touched. Even just within the family, he helped so many of us through some really rough times. He drove me to a fireside once just so we could chat – the two of us. I was going through a really hard year and he somehow always knew just what to say. I had the coolest grandpa – all of the youth in the stake loved him. He was my own stake president and every time other people saw me, they’d say “Hey, tell your grandpa that he’s awesome and I say hi!” I had youth in the stake come up to me all the time and say, “Your grandpa is the coolest! You’ll never believe what he just did!” He was a kid at heart his whole life.
He was an avid motorcycle rider. One of his bikes is a bullet bike – it’s awesome. Some of my earliest “grandpa memories” are taking rides up and down the street on his motorcycle. Once, a friend of mine wanted to get a bike. However, he was 16 and his parents didn’t want him to and none of us really wanted him to, either. Boys aren’t very responsible at that age. Grandpa then said to him, “You want a bike? Here, let’s go for a ride.” He took him for the wildest ride of his life, going 3 times the speed limit on this winding road. Passed a cop, too. Needless to say, he cured my friend of his desire to get a motorcycle!
During my junior year of high school, I went to a stake dance for New Year’s Eve. My friend was spending the night that night, so as we got to my house around 2, we were expecting to have to be real quiet so as not to wake anyone. However, we came home to lights, noise, and laughter. To my surprise, not only were my parents still up, but my grandparents were still up! The four of them had been there playing games for hours. They continued playing games until about 4 that morning. That night, my grandparents officially became the ‘coolest grandparents ever’ in the eyes of my friend. She couldn’t believe I had grandparents who would stay up that late. It’s one of my favorite stories to tell about my grandpa.
He always had the craziest stories and each time he told them, the stories got wilder. Grandma would get frustrated and say, “That’s not what happened!” And Grandpa would smile and say, “…close enough.” It didn’t matter how much was true and how much was real – he sure always made them exciting!
My absolute favorite story he ever told me though was my junior or senior year of high school. For some reason, people can hardly believe this when I tell them, but growing up, I never got asked out. I only went on a handful of dates all throughout high school. I never even got asked to a homecoming or senior prom. I pretended like I didn’t care and that it was no big deal, but it still kind of hurt. So one day, Grandpa and I are talking and I haven’t even told him anything yet. But for some unexplainable reason, he proceeds to tell me this story…
He was in high school and had asked this girl to prom. He goes to the front door on the night of prom to pick her up. She opens the door and is horrified. Somehow there was a misunderstanding somewhere down the road: someone else had asked her and he was going to be there any minute. She didn’t know what to do, but Grandpa said, “no worries – have a great time!”
So here Grandpa is, the night of prom…and no date. He thought to himself, “Who could I find to go with me on such short notice?” He then remembered Sarah (I have no idea what her name really was). Sarah was known as one of the most beautiful girls at school, and all the guys wanted to go out with her. He thought, “I wonder if anyone actually asked her…” He called her up, and come to find out – no one had. She was sitting at home. So Grandpa asked her if she wanted to go and she was thrilled. They went to the dance and had a blast.
That story helped me so much, because at that point, I had started to wonder “What’s wrong with me? Why does no one ever ask me out?? What am I doing wrong?” Grandpa never even tried to juxtapose his story with mine. Just telling the story was enough. After he told the story, we talked about other stuff – it was just a small part of the conversation. But he knew exactly what to say to make me feel better. He complimented me without even saying anything. I thought about that story all the time.
Each Christmas we go to my grandparents’ house and read Christmas stories. Then we read the real Christmas story – in Luke. Grandpa always reads it. I can never remember anyone else ever reading it. It’s going to be so weird this year, going home for Christmas, and having someone else read that story.
He loved Grandma so much. You could just see it in his eyes, his face, his mannerisms. I was lucky enough to spend the entire day with him this past Tuesday. We went to D.C., took a tour through the Capitol and Library of Congress, and then went out to dinner. Grandma joined us for dinner and after nearly 50 years (50 would have been August 2010), they still loved each other the same way they did when they were first married. Grandma would wrap her hands around Grandpa’s arm to keep her hands warm. When we left, they were holding hands. They even kissed goodbye (because Grandpa still had to take me home). One of my favorite memories of the two of them was one summer when I was staying with them. Grandma had Sinatra on and Grandpa came home from work, walked up the stairs (split level stairs), took Grandma’s hand, and they danced all around the entire floor. Through the kitchen, dining room, into the living room… they just danced around the house. And even though I was only 12 or 13 when I saw that, ever since then, it made me want to marry someone who would dance with me around the house when he gets home from work.
I try to look for the positive in everything – no matter how serious the tragedy. And while I am going to miss him so much, good things are still to be found in it. My family used to have family reunions every year or two. I loved it, because I love my family and we always have fun. But a few years ago, our family was severely damaged. Hearts were broken, things were said, and it more or less divided the family. We haven’t had a reunion since. I have tried to remain neutral throughout it all because I absolutely hate that there are “sides’ to the family now, and I don’t want to lose any family member in any way. My Grandpa’s death will bring everyone together again. All the petty difference will be put aside, if just for a day, for this wonderful man whose life we will honor. I am deeply saddened that it takes such a tragedy to bring us all together again, but I am glad that we will all be able to see one another again.
Grandpa Brown, I will miss you. You helped more people than I can count. I am thoroughly convinced that you did in fact know everyone. And you never forgot a single one. No matter who it was, you remembered them. No matter what their trial, you somehow knew just what to say to help them through it. You had nothing but love to give to everyone around you. I never saw you upset or angry. Always calm during trials, and somehow keeping a smile on your face through just about everything. I know you are in a better place now, but I still wish you could have stayed with us a few years more. I love you, and I hope you are having a rockin’ time up in heaven. :)
He was an avid motorcycle rider. One of his bikes is a bullet bike – it’s awesome. Some of my earliest “grandpa memories” are taking rides up and down the street on his motorcycle. Once, a friend of mine wanted to get a bike. However, he was 16 and his parents didn’t want him to and none of us really wanted him to, either. Boys aren’t very responsible at that age. Grandpa then said to him, “You want a bike? Here, let’s go for a ride.” He took him for the wildest ride of his life, going 3 times the speed limit on this winding road. Passed a cop, too. Needless to say, he cured my friend of his desire to get a motorcycle!
During my junior year of high school, I went to a stake dance for New Year’s Eve. My friend was spending the night that night, so as we got to my house around 2, we were expecting to have to be real quiet so as not to wake anyone. However, we came home to lights, noise, and laughter. To my surprise, not only were my parents still up, but my grandparents were still up! The four of them had been there playing games for hours. They continued playing games until about 4 that morning. That night, my grandparents officially became the ‘coolest grandparents ever’ in the eyes of my friend. She couldn’t believe I had grandparents who would stay up that late. It’s one of my favorite stories to tell about my grandpa.
He always had the craziest stories and each time he told them, the stories got wilder. Grandma would get frustrated and say, “That’s not what happened!” And Grandpa would smile and say, “…close enough.” It didn’t matter how much was true and how much was real – he sure always made them exciting!
My absolute favorite story he ever told me though was my junior or senior year of high school. For some reason, people can hardly believe this when I tell them, but growing up, I never got asked out. I only went on a handful of dates all throughout high school. I never even got asked to a homecoming or senior prom. I pretended like I didn’t care and that it was no big deal, but it still kind of hurt. So one day, Grandpa and I are talking and I haven’t even told him anything yet. But for some unexplainable reason, he proceeds to tell me this story…
He was in high school and had asked this girl to prom. He goes to the front door on the night of prom to pick her up. She opens the door and is horrified. Somehow there was a misunderstanding somewhere down the road: someone else had asked her and he was going to be there any minute. She didn’t know what to do, but Grandpa said, “no worries – have a great time!”
So here Grandpa is, the night of prom…and no date. He thought to himself, “Who could I find to go with me on such short notice?” He then remembered Sarah (I have no idea what her name really was). Sarah was known as one of the most beautiful girls at school, and all the guys wanted to go out with her. He thought, “I wonder if anyone actually asked her…” He called her up, and come to find out – no one had. She was sitting at home. So Grandpa asked her if she wanted to go and she was thrilled. They went to the dance and had a blast.
That story helped me so much, because at that point, I had started to wonder “What’s wrong with me? Why does no one ever ask me out?? What am I doing wrong?” Grandpa never even tried to juxtapose his story with mine. Just telling the story was enough. After he told the story, we talked about other stuff – it was just a small part of the conversation. But he knew exactly what to say to make me feel better. He complimented me without even saying anything. I thought about that story all the time.
Each Christmas we go to my grandparents’ house and read Christmas stories. Then we read the real Christmas story – in Luke. Grandpa always reads it. I can never remember anyone else ever reading it. It’s going to be so weird this year, going home for Christmas, and having someone else read that story.
He loved Grandma so much. You could just see it in his eyes, his face, his mannerisms. I was lucky enough to spend the entire day with him this past Tuesday. We went to D.C., took a tour through the Capitol and Library of Congress, and then went out to dinner. Grandma joined us for dinner and after nearly 50 years (50 would have been August 2010), they still loved each other the same way they did when they were first married. Grandma would wrap her hands around Grandpa’s arm to keep her hands warm. When we left, they were holding hands. They even kissed goodbye (because Grandpa still had to take me home). One of my favorite memories of the two of them was one summer when I was staying with them. Grandma had Sinatra on and Grandpa came home from work, walked up the stairs (split level stairs), took Grandma’s hand, and they danced all around the entire floor. Through the kitchen, dining room, into the living room… they just danced around the house. And even though I was only 12 or 13 when I saw that, ever since then, it made me want to marry someone who would dance with me around the house when he gets home from work.
I try to look for the positive in everything – no matter how serious the tragedy. And while I am going to miss him so much, good things are still to be found in it. My family used to have family reunions every year or two. I loved it, because I love my family and we always have fun. But a few years ago, our family was severely damaged. Hearts were broken, things were said, and it more or less divided the family. We haven’t had a reunion since. I have tried to remain neutral throughout it all because I absolutely hate that there are “sides’ to the family now, and I don’t want to lose any family member in any way. My Grandpa’s death will bring everyone together again. All the petty difference will be put aside, if just for a day, for this wonderful man whose life we will honor. I am deeply saddened that it takes such a tragedy to bring us all together again, but I am glad that we will all be able to see one another again.
Grandpa Brown, I will miss you. You helped more people than I can count. I am thoroughly convinced that you did in fact know everyone. And you never forgot a single one. No matter who it was, you remembered them. No matter what their trial, you somehow knew just what to say to help them through it. You had nothing but love to give to everyone around you. I never saw you upset or angry. Always calm during trials, and somehow keeping a smile on your face through just about everything. I know you are in a better place now, but I still wish you could have stayed with us a few years more. I love you, and I hope you are having a rockin’ time up in heaven. :)
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