Bradley Jay Gerrard

I first met Brad when he got off his mission to Mongolia. He was such a fun loving guy. We didn't talk much until he met Susie, and he'd call me for advice. I thought it was so sweet how much he cared about her. I remember talking to him on the phone about her, and about cats.

When Brad and Susie got married, it was so perfect. They were so happy. Whenever we'd bring our kids to visit them, they always had so much fun. My kids thought of him as "fun uncle Brad". We were so excited when they moved to be closer to us. We'd take turns having Sunday dinner at each others houses. It was a fun tradition and when they moved to be even closer, it was fun spending time with them every day.

I remember the kids climbing on his shoulder as he ran through the house. Everyone laughing. I remember how willing Brad and Susie were to help anyone in need. They saw something that needed to be done and they did it. When I was pregnant with my third child, they were always helping me out in some small way. Watching my other kids so I could rest, helping with housework when I got overwhelmed, or just hanging out with me.

They were kind neighbors, a young girl moved in next door to them and they helped her move in. When they realized that she was lacking some household items like dishes and utensils they went through their things and asked if I had any extra, so that she would have something. Brad had a heart of gold and would give the shirt off his back to help someone in need.

When I heard of his death I was heartbroken. He's a good man that will be missed. He loved his job at the prison, he was the kind of guard that showed respect to everyone, and in turn was respected by everyone.

I was so happy for them when they were finally able to adopt a child. I knew they would be wonderful parents and it was hard watching them go through the heartache of not being able to conceive. He was wonderful with my children and I knew when given the opportunity he would be an amazing father. My heartaches for his young son, and the unborn child he's left behind. I hope with all my heart that those children will know what an amazing man their father was.

Need something to blog about?

Thanks rob! Something to keep me off the morbid.

Answer the following questions using one word:

Where is your cell phone? coffeetable
Where is your significant other? not sure
Your hair color? dishwater blonde
Your mother? twitterpated
Your father? interesting
Your favorite thing? rain
Your dream last night? nothing
Your dream/goal? happiness
The room you’re in? living
Your hobby? reading
Your fear? settling
Where do you want to be in 6 years? alive
Where were you last night? home
What you’re not? whole
One of your wish-list items? comfort
Where you grew up? ut
The last thing you did? dinner
What are you wearing? jeans
Your TV? old
Your pet? someday
Your computer? HP
Your mood? hungry
Missing someone? yes
Your car? mercedes
Something you’re not wearing? bra
Favorite store? book
Your summer? normal
Love someone? maybe
Your favorite color? blue
When is the last time you laughed? afternoon
Last time you cried? tuesday

R.I.P. Brad

choices

Its either write or cry. I'm choosing to write. Whether I can get through this though is another story. I'm just sick over the senselessness of this weekend's atrocity. I've been reading the news articles online, probably making myself crazy. But reading has always been my way of dealing with things.

I'm making phone calls right now. Other people's pain has always effected me more than my own. Compassion I suppose its called. I just talked to my ex father in law. A strong, quiet man. He served in Vietnam. He was in tears talking to me and I could only just cry a long with him. I had never seen nor heard him cry before. I can't imagine the pain of losing a child. I can't imagine the pain of losing a brother, a spouse, a parent. But he was essentially a brother to me, and the pain of losing that connection is hard to bare.

I'm waiting for my ex sister in law to call back. I know she's having a really hard time. I can't imagine being her age and widowed. I don't know what to say to her. But I want her to know that I'm thinking of her and loving her through this difficult time.

He was such a great person. Friendly, funny, fun loving. He loved his family. I know he loved being a father. They had tried so hard for years to get pregnant and now she is and he's gone. He was a good uncle to my kids, they loved their Uncle Brad.

I just talked to her. She's doing pretty good, considering. Making jokes, and remembering him fondly. His death doesn't make sense and everyone is trying to make sense of it. She's happy to have a piece of him in her unborn child, and she plans on naming the baby after him. I'm both happy and sad for her. Happy that she's finally going to have a baby, and sad that she'll have to raise it without its father.

It all seems so surreal, and I wish I could feel, a little bit more than I have before.

I'm exhausted from all the emotions running through my soul. My eyes ache from crying. My heart aches for his family.

Human life is fleeting and frail. It doesn't take much to end it. It also doesn't take much to live and enjoy what you have. Enjoy each breath, each smell, each touch, each glance, each lingering look. Each late night conversation, each comfortable silence.

The frailty of life

I recently posted about loving the smell of death. I was talking about smelling dead leaves as they crunched under my feet. My friend and fellow blogger, Crandall, had recently posted about death in a post.

I didn't think I'd have to post about another death. Even less a murder. This last weekend was my ex's weekend with the kids. Since it was also near their birthdays they were going to stay on an extended weekend, and come home on Monday. Sunday morning I awoke to a text saying that my ex's brother had been shot and killed. The kids were dropped off Sunday afternoon.

I hadn't seen him in over two years. Its quite strange to think he's gone. He left behind a wife and child. He was a good man, active in his church, a hard worker. He was a Corrections Officer. He loved his job. He loved his family, and he loved his life.

I know he's in a better place, and that life goes on. And when the anniversary of his death comes around, we'll celebrate his life.

Death touches all of us eventually. None of us can escape it. "Life is the greatest teacher, unfortunately the final is a killer" I can't remember who said that but its true.

Just remember to live!

Questions

"Why are you still seeing him?"

Gee, I don't know. I hate when people ask questions like that. I feel put on the spot. Like I need to explain myself.

There are so many reasons. I don't feel like I can sum it up with one explanation. Talking til 3 in the morning. Only stopping because one of us has fallen asleep. Not because we've run out of stuff to talk about. Learning, laughing, being silent. Reading in silence, discussing in length, just enjoying each others company.

I don't have to be his version of me. I can just be me. My version of me. With all my ups and downs and faults and when I'm falling apart, he's just there to wrap me in his arms, pulling me close to his chest. All while he's talking me through it, getting me to hold on a little bit tighter to my sanity.

Aggravating.

So, I still see him from time to time.

Its easy.

Now, where do I find him?

Lists

Lists

My friend and I started making these lists of what we want in a guy. It provides hours of entertainment when work is slow. Some lists are serious, and some are just out there goofy. Here's the one I made today:

Stong
Smart
LOVES books
slightly geeky
knows how to dance
has good taste in music
and I know its shallow, but I like taller men, around 6' is good
likes motorcycles
good with cars
can hold an interesting conversation
and selfless

Now, my friend got a hold of it and added these things, these are just slightly ridiculous, I'm not that shallow LOL.

sexy
obedient
dresses casually
singer
6% body fat
great public speaker
at least a Ph,D or Masters

Whats more meaningful?

Usually when a person describes their most memorable relationship, they say the person taught them how to love. I think most humans have the ability to love ingrained in their DNA, we are compassionate people, we notice when our friends need something, we listen, we care. That's easy enough.

But what about a person who teaches someone how to BE loved. How to accept that they are worthy of the same care they so easily bestow on another person. I think that lesson is more important than the other.

How many of us actually learn it though? And do we realize what we're missing even? I'm not sure.

This was inspired in part by a conversation I was having with a friend the other night. Also in part by a movie I had watched recently. I found the line "you taught me how to love" kind of cheesy. Because I think that's a fairly easy lesson to learn.

Death

I love the smell of death. The sweet stench of dying that drifts through the fall air. The crunch it makes as I traipse through it. The bite of cold that I can taste. The colors that drift and pile everywhere. Yet, I hate it, it means winter is just around the corner. When nothing is happening, nothing is dying, nothing is living, but the world is frozen in a state of nothingness.

Winter is my least favorite season. Especially if I have to be out in it. I'm not a big fan of the cold. If I can be inside, wrapped up, with a cup of hot chocolate, a toasty fire, then I don't mind it so much. Its the freezing ears, frozen noses, icicle fingers, that get to me.

I tend to sink further and wallow more when the weather is dreary. Although I love rain. We had a good hard storm a few weekends in a row. I was in heaven. Every once in awhile, I'd step outside and just let the rain wash over me. Sinking into the smell. Watching as the storm moved in and out over us. It was beautiful. Watching the mountain disappear and reappear, covered in white.

I really do love living here. For the moment its where I need and want to be. Even if the weather is flighty.

Scary isn't it?

Caring.

Yeah, I guess it is. Frightening in fact. Although not as frightening as having someone care about you. The responsibility goes up, you now have to care for yourself as well. Because if someone else thinks you are worthy of care, you damn better too.

I'm sure there are many out there who care, just as I care about many. But they do it subtly and not so obviously. So I go through life blissfully unaware. Then someone breezes through my life, and in a very obvious way points out that I'm worthy of the care of another human. So, now what? I can feel my heart opening, and its painful.

What gets me is the sincerity in those three little words... 'Are you ok?' Something a good many people have asked, yet not a lot have meant. More a passing courtesy, like saying 'hi' when greeting someone, commenting on the weather, things of that nature. But to have someone actually ask 'Are you ok?' with genuine concern. I think that phrase will forever mean more to me than what it once did.