The Miller Memoirs: Brandon's Funeral

IN MEMORY OF BRANDON

I think I have been avoiding this post for quite some time. The pictures have sat vacant without words for weeks. I've thought about what I could possibly say to illustrate my thoughts and feelings as I struggle with the passing of my little brother.

To begin, I am grateful for my Savior, Jesus Christ. Because He died, I will see my brother again. Truly, there isn't a better gift in all the world. I don't think it is possible to express enough gratitude to my Savior for this gift.

The journey of healing will continue to take time...even now--two months later. We will continue to have tender days, and tender moments; however, through it all our Savior will be by our side. He--only He--can understand our sorrow, and because He understands--He carries us.

And despite our struggles, there is also great joy! God is real. He loves me. He loves you. All things that are hard can be overcome through our Savior, Jesus Christ. My heart rejoices as I think of my God. My heart looks to Him, and I feel Him carrying me.

The Day of the Funeral:

The day of the funeral arrived, and it was a cold blustery day. The weather seemed to match our feelings as rain pelted the car on our way to the church. Immediately upon arriving I saw my in-law's, and we embraced in a much needed hug--they had traveled from Rupert to support our family on this sacred day. After embracing for a moment, I joined my siblings by Brandon's casket as we greeted a few more guests. A few times I stole glances at my kids as they waited with the rest of the family for the casket to be closed. My heart ached as I watched my middle child sob. Several relatives tried to offer comfort, but really to no avail. Her little body shook with emotion, and I had to look away. I knew that somehow I had to keep myself held together. I was speaking at Brandon's funeral, and I knew that in order to deliver a tribute worthy of my little brother, I needed to be able to hold my composure. I prayed for solace, I prayed for the Lord's peace, and I prayed for my mom.

As the viewing came to an end, we--the family--were all given a chance to offer one last good-bye to Brandon's mortal tabernacle. I ruffled his hair; I cried by his side, and then I stepped away allowing my siblings their moment. My brother-in-law, Kendall, then offered the family prayer; after which the procession began. I was humbled as I entered the chapel. There were so many people to offer respect to my little brother and his life. The people stretched from the chapel to the stage.

Roxanne and Layne spoke of Brandon prior to my speaking. During their talks, I often wondered why I hadn't gone first. My tears gently rolled down my cheeks as I listened and laughed at their memories. The real kicker came when Hailey played the piano for a musical number. As I listened the tears flowed, and I wondered about my ability to speak. As the piano finished, some unknown force helped me to the podium and allowed me the strength to speak of Brandon's heroism in this life. Throughout my talk, I could hear the quiet crying of those in attendance. However, it wasn't until I spoke of the Lord calling Brandon home through my Father's Priesthood blessing that my dad sobbed in anguish, and in that moment--it was difficult to hold my composure. I stopped and cried with my father for a moment. My sister moved to sit by my parents. Hugs were offered. Hands were extended. And I continued to speak.

When I finished my thoughts, I quietly left the stand to sit with my family. We hugged as Brandon's funeral came to a close. All of the thoughts and feelings expressed epitomized the genuine person that Brandon had become. Everyone who attended his serviced felt uplifted and carried. Many people expressed the desire to become better. Several people messaged my parents about the uplifting spirit felt at Brandon's funeral. One comment on Facebook read, "You guys gave Brandon such a beautiful tribute and made everyone want to be better after leaving his funeral. I hope it helped your parents pain to see all four of you and the people you have become."

For me, the funeral was a chapter I wasn't ready to close. As we pulled up the grave, I wanted to freeze time--not because I wanted to live in the moment, but because I didn't want to say good-bye to Brandon's mortal tabernacle. Despite this internal battle, I also felt great joy and peace. My niece said it perfectly when she said, "Because of Him, death has no sting." The knowledge of the gospel lifted our hearts for the day. We knew that we would see him again.

Throughout the day, my siblings and I posted tributes to our brother's memory. Roxanne wrote on her post, "And then there were four." This phrase hung in all of our minds. Somehow each of us were determined to love our remaining siblings a bit more, to hold on to the family we had left, to be more of what our Savior would want us to be.

I wish with all my heart that the Lord's plan for my family was different. However, I can choose to move forward with faith, or I can choose to wallow in my self-pity. I can choose to learn from my sorrow, or I can choose to hide my face from my pain. I have the choice to grow from each and every trial. I get that choice. It was given to me as a gift when I came to this earth. I choose to live. I choose to learn. I choose to grow.

I have been told on numerous occasions that I shouldn't be sad at my brother's passing. After all, if we believe, then why should we cry? Dealing with grief doesn't demonstrate a lack of faith. I look to my parents, and I gain most of my strength from them. The passing of a second son has again found them grieving, but their faith still remains intact. They believe with all their hearts. They testify of Christ's Atonement. They choose to live each day with faith, and although this faith eases the burden of losing another son--they still feel the pain of missing him here on earth. Russell M. Nelson said, "The only way to take sorrow out of death is to take love out of life" (Russell M. Nelson, Doors of Death, April 1992). I love this statement. When we love someone with all of our hearts, it is only natural to also grieve when they pass onto their next journey. Russell M. Nelson also said, "We can't fully appreciate joyful reunions later without tearful separations now" (Russell M. Nelson, Doors of Death, April 1992).

After the Funeral:

After the family dinner, Bryan, Sheri, Michelle, Dave and I went to clean out Brandon's apartment. Slowly we sorted his clothes, and belongings into bins, so that they may be transported to my mom's house. Many things brought back memories, and we had moments of laughter along with moments of tears. Bryan picked up an old can filled with gun powder. When Brandon was 12, he lit that can on fire and suffered severe burns on his face and hands. I still remember him running to the shower and standing in cold water as he tried to cool the burn. We laughed at his ingeniousness. I picked up his scriptures and marveled as I flipped through the pages. Page after page had markings and thoughts in Brandon's writing. I felt as if he were standing by my side. Bin after bin was filled with memories, and carried out the door of his apartment. My mind found itself in auto-pilot as I sorted and carried.

When we arrived at my parent's home, we sorted and divided. Brandon's things were distributed among the family as mementos and keepsakes. My husband happened to be the same size as Brandon, so he was given a great deal of Brandon's clothing. Every time I see my husband in Brandon's new suit, I think of Brandon. I wondered if this reminder would be difficult for me; however, I am finding it a blessing rather than a hindrance. More than anything I would rather see my little brother in his clothes, but seeing Bryan in Brandon's clothes serves as a reminder to me to cherish the people in my life.

Each and every day is a blessing. Our time here on earth is not meant to last forever. We must cherish each moment with the people we love, and live each day to the fullest, because we never know which day will be our last.