My Brother, From Another Mother

 

Photo stolen without permission from facebook.  may the owner of the photo, please forgive me.

Death.  I'm a little tired of it. 

I learned at 6am this morning, Tuesday, that my favorite missionary companion, Brent May, had unexpectedly passed away late Monday night.  It hit me.  It hit me hard. 

Having dealt with the death of my Father less than a year and a half ago, my Grandmother's husband less than half a year ago and my Aunt Kathy last month, I have had my fair share of dealing with death as of late.  I am a strong person and, though I feel deeply and morn as it seems naturally, I have been impressed with how emotionally strong I've felt through it all.  Perhaps it is the nature of the deaths with which I have had to deal with.  My Father was the youngest of the three at age 72, but all three had lived life at least 7 decades.  Perhaps it was the mantle of being the patriarch of the family that I found the strength needed to deal with the matters at hand and to do so without the cloudiness of an emotional mind and broken heart.  I don't know.  I know my heart was broken and my soul ached at my Father's death, but still, I felt a strength I had not known before as I dealt with his death and that of my Aunt.

Right now I'm on vacation so it's not normal for me to post a blog entry while on holidays, but I felt the need to write my thoughts, even if I don't share this publicly, which I'm not sure I'll do.  The intent of this trip was to visit my Aunt Kathy who had been ill for some time.  We planned and booked this trip a month ago.  Literally the day I booked our hotel near to her convalescent care center, I received a call that she had passed away.  The trip then turned from a planned visit to buoy her spirits to a planned visit to deal with her remains and what earthly items and tasks she left behind. We planned on taking our time in our travels to her home on the coast in central California.  We planned stops in Mesquite, Nevada and Calico Ghost Town in the California high desert.  I also intended to stop and visit my good friend, Brent May.  He lives in a small town between Mesquite and Las Vegas.

Elder May and Elder Trosper Flexing their Muscle - Vernon, British Columbia 1990

I served as a missionary in British Columbia for two years for the Church of  Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints.  As a missionary, you are assigned to serve in different locations with different companions.  In my time as a missionary, I served with several different companions and Brent was my favorite.  From minute one, Brent and I clicked.  He was one of those instant soul mates you rarely meet in your life;  one of those people you feel you must have known in a life previous to this one.  We were cut from the same cloth...at least physically.  We were both short, stocky, solid and strong.  Wherever we went, people commented on our size and thickness.  More than our physical similarities, we were kindred spirits.  We shared the same temperament and had a genuine love for those we served.  He was my twin that never was.  He was, to use a phrase that didn't exist in the early 90's, "my Brother from another Mother".

We worked (and played) well together.  We lived by the mantra, work hard, play hard, pray hard, stay hard.  We enjoyed teaching of Christ, having a fun time, remembering why we were called and working out/playing sports.  We especially taught well together.  We had this teaching style that worked for us both.  As we took turns teaching the different discussions and principles, we would trade off teaching.  While one taught, the other sat back and listened, or as would often happen...sleep.  When the one of us was done teaching, he would hit the others knee with their own (thus waking the other up) and let them know it was their turn to proceed...allowing the other to sleep.  It may seem irreverent, but it worked.  I remember one time Elder May was teaching a discussion and was leaning forward in an engaging conversation when I noticed a long white hair sticking through his shirt from his back.  I quietly grabbed that hair and pulled it out.  He let out a surprising yelp, but from that point forward it became something I did more often.  One time I think it triggered a tear from his eye, not from pain of course, but from that natural reaction the body has to a hair being pulled out.  He didn't skip a beat and I think he passed that tear off as a tear of spiritual emotion. 

Elder Trosper, Jerry Popoff and Elder May.  Working on the Popoff Homestead. 
Gerry referred to us as "Those two short guys" which was as much of a term of
endearment and spoken affection that ever was spoken by Jerry.  We used to brag
about this picture because he typically didn't play along with things like that.  I
guess he liked us.

We had a great time.  We experienced great success and I attribute much of that success to the love that each of us had not only for the gospel, but for each other and for the people we served.  Brent was just that type of guy.  He loved everybody.  He communicated that love in a soft spoken and humble way; in a sort of way that one could only communicate in the most genuine of ways.  It isn't a learned manner, but a manner in which he lived.  It was this connection that many felt with Brent that made his friendship a worthwhile friendship.  I am certain that many feel about Brent the same way I do, but I'll choose to remember it as unique and different.  It was for me. 

Another thing I remember about Elder May is that he was grateful.  I know he struggled with his health prior to becoming my companion.  In fact, I think he had been rendered unable to work for several weeks leading up to our companionship.  When we first met, he confessed an insecurity about being a missionary and that he had lost much time due to circumstances outside his control.  As we began working together, he always expressed such gratitude to me for "working with him" and "teaching him".  He seemed honestly grateful for me and what I did for him as his companion and I remember thinking, "What are you talking about?!"  He worked with me and taught me just as much or more than I ever did for him.  He made me feel good about myself.

Elder May and Elder Trosper being spoiled for Christmas by Sisters Marx and Hildt

When I learned early this morning, that he had passed, several things immediately crossed my mind.  HOW?  WHY?  WHAT?!  Was I hearing this correctly.  I typically choose to not have regret and I have only a couple things in my 46 years that I do regret, but I immediately regretted the decision to not stop by and visit Brent on my way through Nevada.  I had been ill the night before and my loving wife allowed me to sleep in Saturday morning rather than to wake me and keep me on the schedule I had set for my family's trip.  As a result, I zoomed by his exit as I have so many times before.  In my own defense, defense of what I don't know...guilt maybe...I had no idea Brent was sick.  Not a clue.  Brent isn't a big facebooker and I had somehow lost him in my feed.  I didn't know he was fighting cancer again.  I didn't know he was in the hospital.  I didn't know he was sick.  I wish I had.  If I had known, there is nothing that would have stopped me from visiting him.  I wish I knew.  I wish I knew and I regret that I didn't.

As it was 6am and my family was all still sleeping when I got word of Brent's passing, I locked myself in the bathroom and read of his fight with and ultimate defeat by cancer.  I found myself sobbing.  Where did the strength go that I once had?  Why did I lose it this time?  Was it the suddenness and surprising news?  Was it time and emotions catching up with me?  Was it too close to home as he is far too young and of the same age as me?  Was it because he was my brother?  I don't know, but it hit me like a brick and it hurts my soul.  As I realized how painful it was to think about, my thoughts then turned to his wife, Amy, and his two children.  If I feel this way about it, how much more painful must it be for them.  My heart breaks to consider their agony.  I find comfort in the knowledge, that I know they have, of the resurrection and the sealing power of Christ.  I know they know because I know Brent knows.  He lived it and taught it in his very word and deed.  I take comfort knowing that Brent undoubtedly left to his son and daughter the best of himself and that they have the greatest fighting chance of happiness and success as a result of his life.  That being said, it still hurts to think of.

Elder May and Elder Trosper with the Spotted Eagle twins.

It has been comforting to read the different memories and tributes left to Brent on his facebook page.  He truly was a good man that influenced and touched so many lives around him.  A mutual friend of mine and Brent's was explaining to me what a good man Brent was and how much everybody loved him and considered him a friend.  I thought out loud, "To know Brent was to love Brent and everybody that knew him, loved him.  I don't think I would want to meet the person who did not love Brent May.  Luckily, I doubt such a person exists. 

Brent, thank you for being my companion, friend and brother.  Thank you for making my life better and for touching so many during your short time here.  Thank you for leaving the world better than you found it.  You are most definitely one of the good guys and we will all miss you.  Of the many amazing men I've known in my life, you are among the greatest.  You are among the greatest.

Until we meet again, brother.  Much love.