It's odd when someone passes on. This past week, I learned that 'Uncle Brian' has died. I'm not sure why I call him that, he isn't my uncle and although he is the Uncle of a family I have been close to over the years, it's not typical of me to offer such terms of endearment to people that are not blood related. I am, after all, a Mason and a Gron. Two powerful families on opposite ends of the spectrum though united in intensity and purpose.
And this is similar to how Brian was when I knew him.
One of my favorite stories was about the opening of his Mexican restaurant in California. In a rough neighborhood littered with vandals and bullets, Brian decided to open his business. As an incredible cook, he knew he'd be able to win over customers so long as he could keep the violence at bay. He worked on his place, dealt with the incidents he'd expected and one day, decided to go to the parking lot and show the neighbors he meant real business. With a racing heart, he turned on a saw and whipped it around as one would a lasso. He let the spinning blade hit the ground, throwing sparks as he growled and hollered. He carried on as long as his bravado carried him and then went quickly home.
After that night, Brian had very few run ins with the gangs and his business thrived. His hot sauce was the best you'd had, his tacos had that extra something that was just beyond knowing and he cared about every meal he served. Brian loved his business, his family and was incredibly nice to me and mine when we got to know him years later. He was there for rides when a car broke down, to lend gas money he likely didn't have and to watch the same Mummies movie every time my little one presented it.
He'd had a harder life prior to our meeting and his health, habits and stories spoke clearly of those days. Regret about the way his relationship had gone with his son and the love of his life. Quick decisions to try to make up for lost resources or advice for lost memories. Brian was intense - the definition of intense with curly hair, bulging eyes, a loud laugh and decision making that offered no room for questioning. The last time I saw Brian was years ago and I honestly didn't think he'd make it out of the hospital then. While visiting, we discussed great memories, talked about the cute nurse he was harassing and Brian bore his self to me and to his nephew. Though few in my life knew him, I felt I had to leave a few words. This week, I will be honored to go spread his ashes through Bryce Canyon, visiting his family and talking about our memories of Brian.
With Love and Gratitude for the time spent and the kindnesses shown and shared, may you rest in peace and be forever in our thoughts.
Om
And this is similar to how Brian was when I knew him.
One of my favorite stories was about the opening of his Mexican restaurant in California. In a rough neighborhood littered with vandals and bullets, Brian decided to open his business. As an incredible cook, he knew he'd be able to win over customers so long as he could keep the violence at bay. He worked on his place, dealt with the incidents he'd expected and one day, decided to go to the parking lot and show the neighbors he meant real business. With a racing heart, he turned on a saw and whipped it around as one would a lasso. He let the spinning blade hit the ground, throwing sparks as he growled and hollered. He carried on as long as his bravado carried him and then went quickly home.
After that night, Brian had very few run ins with the gangs and his business thrived. His hot sauce was the best you'd had, his tacos had that extra something that was just beyond knowing and he cared about every meal he served. Brian loved his business, his family and was incredibly nice to me and mine when we got to know him years later. He was there for rides when a car broke down, to lend gas money he likely didn't have and to watch the same Mummies movie every time my little one presented it.
He'd had a harder life prior to our meeting and his health, habits and stories spoke clearly of those days. Regret about the way his relationship had gone with his son and the love of his life. Quick decisions to try to make up for lost resources or advice for lost memories. Brian was intense - the definition of intense with curly hair, bulging eyes, a loud laugh and decision making that offered no room for questioning. The last time I saw Brian was years ago and I honestly didn't think he'd make it out of the hospital then. While visiting, we discussed great memories, talked about the cute nurse he was harassing and Brian bore his self to me and to his nephew. Though few in my life knew him, I felt I had to leave a few words. This week, I will be honored to go spread his ashes through Bryce Canyon, visiting his family and talking about our memories of Brian.
With Love and Gratitude for the time spent and the kindnesses shown and shared, may you rest in peace and be forever in our thoughts.
Om
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