The Next Day...

Love is the Purpose of Life

The following morning after Brandon passed away, I drove to Idaho Falls to help prepare for the funeral. My siblings and I sat at the funeral home discussing the speakers, the music, the flowers, and all the little details that go along with planning a funeral. I felt somewhat disconnected as we discussed Brandon and the person he had become. My mind kept trying to grasp at memories that I had had with him; however, my mind was in too much shock to even be able to grasp a simple memory. I felt panicked as I voiced my sadness, and my sister, Michelle, voiced the same opinion. All of us had amazing memories and moments with Brandon, but the shock of losing him was causing our brains to function at a minimal level.

The feeling of sadness was tangible as we entered the room filled with caskets to pick out Brandon's final resting spot. In an effort to relieve the tension, my sister climbed into a casket proclaiming that it wasn't really comfortable. My siblings and I laughed and the tension relaxed a bit. The funeral director had stepped away for a bit, and when he returned, he said it wasn't the first time someone had tried out the accommodations. I was grateful for the distraction. It reminded me of the morning we found Eric's body in the Snake River. My brother-in-law, Dave, had gone into the church to allow the ward to know that we had found him (our Stake had been fasting for our family to find Eric). On his way back to the pickup, he tripped over the fence. Somehow as I write what happened, it doesn't seem funny, but for us, at that moment--it was funny. The laughter lightened our hearts and delivered a portion of peace. I felt similar as my sister crawled out of the casket and for a moment the mood was lighter. However, our thoughts quickly returned to the task at hand. In the end, my mother picked her favorite casket, and we all agreed. After all, it was her son we were burying--mother's should get to choose those things.

As we continued through the tasks at the funeral home, my mind continually returned to the same tasks 20 years previously. When Eric died, we weren't allowed to see his body, because it had been in the water for so long. The funeral director was concerned that it would leave us with a bad memory; however, he offered us an opportunity to view him through a veil. I remember it being most important for Roxanne and I that we have this opportunity. For me, I needed it for closure--or at least, I felt that I did. I remember standing beside Eric's body and touching his hand. It felt so empty as I knew that he was no longer in his mortal body. Seeing the outline of his body made everything more real--more painful. It was as if my heart could feel the finality of what my brain already knew. 

As my mind reflected on this memory, I felt I needed to see Brandon as I had seen Eric. Most of my siblings had already seen Brandon--they had been there the night of his death; however, Rox and I lived away from Idaho Falls, so we hadn't yet seen him. It still felt like somewhat of a dream for me, and I think my heart needed to face the reality of the situation. I didn't want to leave the funeral home without seeing Brandon. I'm not sure why--I just wanted to see him.

The funeral director was kind enough to wheel Brandon out for us to see. And once again the finality of his death was communicated to my heart. I cried as I stood by his side. I couldn't touch him. My stomach felt sick. My dad came over and ruffled his hair. My siblings all stood around me. We all took a moment to cry.

I remember walking away to cry. I heard my niece bearing testimony of the Resurrection, and I was grateful to share in that knowledge, and to believe it with all of my heart. I knew that it was the reason we would find peace, and the reason our hearts would heal--it's how we got through Eric's death, and I knew it would carry us again. I remember listening to my niece and her beautiful testimony, and then looking around at my siblings. There was only 4 of us left.

I think we all had this realization and our minds were grasping at life lessons. All of us felt as if we had already learned this lesson when Eric died; however, with Brandon's passing, we felt it anew. The lesson: the most important thing we can accomplish in this life is to love the people in our lives. I think it is easy to get too busy with the everyday tasks of life, and in the process of being busy--we miss the point of our existence. Brandon epitomized this lesson in his everyday life. For the most part, Brandon didn't say mean things to me or to anyone else--even when there were moments when a mean comment would be warranted. On occasion he would get frustrated, but rather than say something unkind Brandon would leave entirely. I remember just a few weeks prior to his passing, he was staying at my home, and we were having a deep discussion on life, and the importance of refusing Satan in our lives. Brandon could have been mad at me as I took on a motherly role towards him, but he didn't get mad. Instead, Brandon showed great humility as he listened and accepted my counsel.  

If there is one lesson I am learning from the deaths of my two brothers, it is to show more love. There has to be room in our hearts to reach out to the people around us. There has to be time in our day to send a message of love. There has to be a conscientious action to show more love. We are taught in the scriptures that charity is the pure love of Christ (Moroni 7:47)... and "whosoever is possessed of it at the last day, it will be well with him" (Moroni 7:47).  We are also taught in the scriptures from the Savior how we can best show love when he asked Peter if he loved him. He asked Peter multiple times to which Peter always responded in the affirmative. Finally, the Savior taught the key to love when he said, "Feed My Sheep" (John 2:14-17).

Marvin J. Ashton said, "When were you last fed by a family member or friend? When were you last given nourishment for growth and ideas, plans, sorting of the day, sharing of fun, recreation, sorrow, anxiety, concern, and meditation? These ingredients can only be shared by someone who loves and cares. Have you ever gone to extend sympathy and comfort in moments of death and trial, only to come away fed by the faith and trust of the loving bereaved? Certainly the best way for us to show our love in keeping and feeding is by taking the time to prove it hour by hour and day by day. Our expressions of love and comfort are empty if our actions don’t match. God loves us to continue. Our neighbors and families love us if we will but follow through with sustaining support and self-sharing. True love is as eternal as life itself. Who is to say the joys of eternity are not wrapped up in continuous feeding, keeping, and caring? We need not weary in well-doing when we understand God’s purposes and his children" (Marvin J. Ahston,  "Love Takes Time, October 1975 General Conference).

I have felt this love as I have struggled with my brother's passing. There have been those who have reached out to me, who have taken the time to show that they care. It was more than in word, but in action. As they have done this, my understanding of love has deepened, and I have desired to be more like them—not only to my family, but to my friends as well.

Marvin J. Ashton further explained this principle when he said, “The world is filled with too many of us who are inclined to indicate our love with an announcement or declaration. True love is a process. True love requires personal action. Love must be continuing to be real. Love takes time” (Marvin J. Ahston,  "Love Takes Time, October 1975 General Conference).

It is easy to forget to reach out, it is easy to become too busy with the busyness of life; however, in the end, when I am standing before my Savior, and He asks me if I loved him, I hope I can answer with an affirmative, because I had fed His sheep.