The Big Game is coming!
I have been mostly out of touch the past two days, driving to Nebraska and back to attend Brian’s funeral. It obviously wasn’t an entirely pleasant trip, but it was necessary to say goodbye to a guy I’d communicated with nearly daily every day for the past five years.
Watching Brian’s three-year old daughter Emerson trying to wake up her father so she could give him a stuffed animal just before his funeral service was one of most gut-wrenching things I’d ever seen. I am sure that Kelly had brought her over along with their son Brock so she could have one last look.
If that somehow sounds cruel, it is not. I am familiar with that concept. My father died in 1974 of pancreatic cancer. It was a Saturday morning, and I was playing at a close friend’s house. My brother Jerome showed up to get me, and it was clear he had been crying. I didn’t have to ask, I just went with him.