Dear Brian,

You left us over four years ago and still something in me can't accept your absence. I have your picture on my computer, on the bookcase in the living room, on the wardrobe in the bedroom. Anything anyone says about Long Beach or Riverside, or Woodland Hills brings back floods of memories. When I see a young man that has the same general body type you had, I look at him longingly, studying every move, wanting so much to find more of you, watching the young man as he departs and out of my view, contemplating what it was that drew me to him.

We just celebrated your nephew's second birthday yesterday, and your childhood kept jumping at us, the way you liked to take things apart, fix things, build things, figuring the parts, adjusting this and that around the house whenever you saw something that needed done. He is like that, and I can't help reminiscing about your youth as I watch his curiosity and earnest spirit. You would have loved being an uncle again. You were so attentive to your niece when she came up to visit, teaching her to fish, encouraging her to be patient.

Your friends are scattered; I heard Kalen got married; Janet finished school...
Most of them befriended me on Facebook for a while; they read about you as I attempted to piece together your early years. By now, everyone has other pursuits; all trying to stay healthy and sane.
Now and then I see posts from Johnny, now all grown up, as he recounts his athletic events, the pursuits he loved and shared with his neighbor, and big brother Brian.

I have not heard about Butters; I'm sure she settled down a bit and grew to love her new digs. Newkie has adjusted well to the Oregon weather, accepting indoor living for most of the rainy months. She is well, and might just have memories of California when she finds a patch of sun and stretches herself in its warmth.

A part of me expects to see you up in Oregon this holiday, giving up your friends and your parties to join your elderly parents for yet another wet Christmas that keeps you indoor. Yet, by now, you might have discovered all the slopes with lots of powder just a couple of hours away from us, and the trip would then be a winter mecca for you and your friends.

Glad you were in our lives for all those years, son. Glad we got to know and love and cherish you.
We'll be thinking of you till our last breath.
Love you much,
Mom and Dad