Please jot down a memory of Brian, or a photo with him in it, or just tell us how you were connected.
wrote on June 16, 2023
at
1:46 pm
I wanted to share what I wrote for Brian's memorial. I was incredibly honored to be asked to host it, and to be able to share what he meant to me.
I've been an unofficial part of the Hess family since I was 15. I met Brian's son, Barrett, in Middle School, and we quickly became best friends. Barrett was always so excited to bring me over to spend time with his family, and so I quickly became close with Thryza, Jennifer, and of course, with Brian. By the end of High School, there would be weeks where I would spend more time with the Hess family than I would with my own. I was affectionately called โUnder-Sonโ ; not really their son, but just the next best thing.
I had been close with my friends' families before, but something with this family was different. They weren't just my friend's parents and sibling... they were my friends as well. And this was especially true with Brian. Some nights I slept over, Barrett would go to bed early, and Brian and I would stay up far too late, playing video games, talking about life, sharing stories and dreams for the future.
As I got older, this friendship grew and developed. As I became an adult, it became easier for us to talk more and more as peers. He always extended the same interest in my life as I saw him do with his other friends, regardless of age.
Brian was instrumental in introducing me to something that has had a major impact in my life since: Dungeons and Dragons. Barrett and Brian were so excited to teach me to play, to introduce me to their group, and to include me in the fun and silly stories of adventure they were creating. I was immediately hooked, and could not wait to go down into their basement every other week to continue pretending to be heroes in our make-believe worlds.
Over the last few months, as I've sat and thought about what my friendship with Brian meant to me, these stories kept coming back to me. And I slowly came to realize, there was one thing Brian taught
me above everything else. And he taught me this both in this make-believe fantasy world we shared together, but also in how he moved through the world day after day. He taught me what it meant to be
a hero.
When his son's friend misses the last bus from West Seattle and needs a ride home, a hero doesn't care how late it is, or how early he has to get up the next day. He drives him home, even if that rides takes over an hour round trip.
When someone you're close to is in trouble at 2am, and feels unsafe spending the night in an empty house, a hero pulls on his pants and hops in the car without a though. He offers that person a place to stay, however long they need.
A hero puts his own wants aside to support his family. Even if he would rather be traveling the world, out in nature, exploring, fishing, rockhounding, even if he hates having to go to work every day, he
does, because he knows his family counts on him. He goes in every Monday and works his ass off all week, so he can continue to be a hero with his friends and family outside work hours.
A hero ensures everyone is always welcome at his home. The moment you walk in the door, you are family. There is food, drink, laughter, a shoulder to lean on, whatever you need. No matter how many people descend, and no matter how large or small the house, there is always room around the fire for one more.
And most of all, a hero supports his loved ones and takes pride in their accomplishments. I only recently learned how much Brian bragged about me and my wife, Stephanie, and the things we were accomplishing in our lives. Every time we came to visit, he would sit with rapt attention, hearing about the changes in our careers, our attempts to balance paying jobs while working in theater, plans for grad school, plans for a family. He would give advice when needed, he would call bull shit when we were getting in our own way, but he made it clear how proud and impressed he was. And not just of us, but everyone he considered family.
Brian taught me to play a game of make-believe with dice and monsters. Brian taught me that money is worthless without loved ones to spend it on.
Brian taught me not to take life so seriously, and to always make room to play and to laugh.
Brian taught me how to show up for your people.
Brian taught me how to be a hero.
Brian was a hero. To me, and to so many others.
I've been an unofficial part of the Hess family since I was 15. I met Brian's son, Barrett, in Middle School, and we quickly became best friends. Barrett was always so excited to bring me over to spend time with his family, and so I quickly became close with Thryza, Jennifer, and of course, with Brian. By the end of High School, there would be weeks where I would spend more time with the Hess family than I would with my own. I was affectionately called โUnder-Sonโ ; not really their son, but just the next best thing.
I had been close with my friends' families before, but something with this family was different. They weren't just my friend's parents and sibling... they were my friends as well. And this was especially true with Brian. Some nights I slept over, Barrett would go to bed early, and Brian and I would stay up far too late, playing video games, talking about life, sharing stories and dreams for the future.
As I got older, this friendship grew and developed. As I became an adult, it became easier for us to talk more and more as peers. He always extended the same interest in my life as I saw him do with his other friends, regardless of age.
Brian was instrumental in introducing me to something that has had a major impact in my life since: Dungeons and Dragons. Barrett and Brian were so excited to teach me to play, to introduce me to their group, and to include me in the fun and silly stories of adventure they were creating. I was immediately hooked, and could not wait to go down into their basement every other week to continue pretending to be heroes in our make-believe worlds.
Over the last few months, as I've sat and thought about what my friendship with Brian meant to me, these stories kept coming back to me. And I slowly came to realize, there was one thing Brian taught
me above everything else. And he taught me this both in this make-believe fantasy world we shared together, but also in how he moved through the world day after day. He taught me what it meant to be
a hero.
When his son's friend misses the last bus from West Seattle and needs a ride home, a hero doesn't care how late it is, or how early he has to get up the next day. He drives him home, even if that rides takes over an hour round trip.
When someone you're close to is in trouble at 2am, and feels unsafe spending the night in an empty house, a hero pulls on his pants and hops in the car without a though. He offers that person a place to stay, however long they need.
A hero puts his own wants aside to support his family. Even if he would rather be traveling the world, out in nature, exploring, fishing, rockhounding, even if he hates having to go to work every day, he
does, because he knows his family counts on him. He goes in every Monday and works his ass off all week, so he can continue to be a hero with his friends and family outside work hours.
A hero ensures everyone is always welcome at his home. The moment you walk in the door, you are family. There is food, drink, laughter, a shoulder to lean on, whatever you need. No matter how many people descend, and no matter how large or small the house, there is always room around the fire for one more.
And most of all, a hero supports his loved ones and takes pride in their accomplishments. I only recently learned how much Brian bragged about me and my wife, Stephanie, and the things we were accomplishing in our lives. Every time we came to visit, he would sit with rapt attention, hearing about the changes in our careers, our attempts to balance paying jobs while working in theater, plans for grad school, plans for a family. He would give advice when needed, he would call bull shit when we were getting in our own way, but he made it clear how proud and impressed he was. And not just of us, but everyone he considered family.
Brian taught me to play a game of make-believe with dice and monsters. Brian taught me that money is worthless without loved ones to spend it on.
Brian taught me not to take life so seriously, and to always make room to play and to laugh.
Brian taught me how to show up for your people.
Brian taught me how to be a hero.
Brian was a hero. To me, and to so many others.