Cruising

Who knew he could play the accordian? What a wildcard!
Uncle B and Reilly

Can you guess which one is NOT a Klungreseter?

Uncle John, Bryan, Bob and Dad

Aunt Shirley, Bryan and Shannon

Family Reunion Cruise-October 1999

Bob and I are sailing away tomorrow to the Mexican Riviera. So don't expect any posts until next week. We are celebrating our 16th anniversary and my birthday. So in honor of cruises, I share with you tonight some stories of my only other cruise.

My mom and dad paid for their kids and grandkid to join them in celebration of their anniversary in October of 1999. A whole lot of other Parkers were there too. It was a really fun time despite the fact that I had a 2 year old and a big pregnant belly with me. That is why I can't tell the entire story about this cruise to Ensenada! Bob and I were back in our cabin by 10pm and did not share in any of the late night adventures that the rest of the tribe participated in. I am hoping my parents will add their comments about those nocturnal happenings.

I do remember that we ate--A LOT! Ordered room-service for the first time. Bryan thought it was FANTASTIC to order a PB&Js at 2am. We went on a glass-bottomed boat in Catalina where Bryan rivalled the tour guide for his job. He was so quick and witty. I think half the tourists thought Bryan was the actual tourguide. Reilly was afraid of all that sea weed. And the lochness monster--which Bryan got her started on.

We went into Ensenada and bought a bunch of musical instruments for Reilly. The top photo is Bryan sitting with a cap on the ground, playing that crazy mini-accordian and singing off-key. It was a riot! And I believe some unwitting passenger actually tipped him. He was such a nut. Fearless and funny. I heard rumors of late-night swimming and karaoke. But you will have to wait for those tales. I was snoring by then.

I plan on being awake much later on this trip. But he won't be there to keep me in stitches. I know there is video footage of one of his antics onboard. If I can figure out how to post it, you are all in for a treat. That guy should have been a comedian!

Mazatlan

Before pink was the new black :0

Bryan in the back with the Peace sign

I can name the others but since I did not ask their permission, I will just leave you guessing.

On the coach on the way to Mazatlan-or maybe on the way back?
They all look pretty beat.

Senior Trip-Summer of 1990

My parents sent my brother to Mazatlan with his buddies for his senior trip. I have no stories to tell because I did not go with him. But I found these pictures in his stuff and since we are headed to the Mexican Riviera ourselves, I thought it would be appropriate to post the pictures today.

Testifying

Hiking at Santa Rosa Plateau with Grandma & Grandpa

***TODAY'S BLOG ADDRESSES INTENSE SUBJECT MATTER.

READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.***

March 29, 2009
Acts 20:24
"I consider my life worth nothing to me, if only I may finish the race and complete the task the Lord Jesus has given me -- the task of testifying to the gospel of God's grace."

I planned on posting on our family hike to Santa Margarita Reserve yesterday. Tip-toeing into the cold river and wading to the shade for our picnic stirred up memories of the Kern River. I wanted to join the dot-to-dots together and weave my childhood stories into my life story in a meaningful way. But I logged on and here was the Scripture for the day. Combined with a tough day at church, I am compelled to write a new blog. I can't help myself. It is the task set before me.

I need to review first. If you have been following this blog from the beginning, you remember that I am writing it for my children. I want them to "know" their Uncle through my stories. But I understand that there are other people following this blog, reading Bryan's story and meeting a "new" Bryan, a side of him you may not have known personally. Some of you are meeting Bryan here for the first time because you did not know him while he breathed. I am not being presumptuous; I am making these comments because others have shared with me these very remarks. If I were writing this ONLY for my children, I would not add this post today. Because we have spent the last three months talking about its subject when we sit at home, when we walk along, when we lie down and when we get up. I have been impressing the importance of this message on my children's hearts in the best way I know how. And praying for God to fill in all my gaps and over all my weaknesses. But they are not the only ones reading here today. This blog is for someone else. Maybe it is you?

My brother's sudden death made this topic of utmost relevance in my life today and the days surrounding his death. Really, I feel like this very pressing matter is THE paramount matter. I shared the same words with my brother many times in our adult lives. We had this conversation many times. The outcome of those discussions is the reason for my hope for Bryan. That he is in Heaven with Jesus enjoying an eternity with no more tears or suffering or anguish. My hope is in the gospel of God's grace.

It is by grace that Bryan was saved from an eternity separated from God. It was not of himself, so that he could not boast in anything he had done or said. It was the free gift of salvation. It was not because Bryan was a good man (though he was) or that he lived a good life (because for the most part he did, just like you and me) that I have this hope for him. I have this assurance because of Christ's work of mercy and grace on the cross on his behalf. Not because I believe my brother had that whole christian life figured out. His death proves that he did not. But then neither did that famous thief on the cross beside Jesus. And he was promised paradise for simply believing and confessing with his mouth who Jesus is.

I asked Bryan over and over again if he believed on the Name of Jesus. And he confessed with his mouth that he did. He loved and believed in Jesus. He truly wanted to be like Him. And as simple as that sounds, as unbelievably uncomplicated as that seems to be, that is absolutely the only thing the Bible requires for someone to be saved. Bryan could not earn his place in Heaven. Just like I couldn't. It was a free gift. And even though Bryan struggled to live a life of freedom from sin (as I do), he believed on the Name of the Lord Jesus.

In the days surrounding Bryan's death, I struggled with reconciling that knowledge with the circumstances surrounding his death. I think others would call it a "crisis of faith". The aftermath of that crossroad has not been fraught with fallout and blight. Instead the outcome has been increase and strength. My faith is deeper and wider than it has ever been before. In some way, I understand grace and the free gift of salvation in the sweet way that reminds me of how I believed when I first became a follower of Jesus as a teenager.

A few weeks ago I spent hours pouring over the coroner's report of my only sibling's death. It was awful and unbelievable and surprising. Many of you believe, like our family did at the beginning, that Bryan died as a result of alcohol poisoning. That is what the detective on the case suggested to my parents after considering her interpretation of the scene. But Bryan's autopsy revealed that there was absolutely no alcohol or drugs in his system. He was sober at the moment of his death. His body had given up its struggle against the hard living and poor health choices that Bryan inflicted upon it. His days were numbered by his Maker and December 14 was the day appointed for his last breath.

All the prayers and tears and begging and pleading done by my family on Bryan's behalf were answered in that single moment. Bryan went home to the Place he was made for, to join the Person he was made for. Free at last. Delivered from the sin that so easily entangles. Healed and whole. In that moment, everything was complete. I feel certain that Bryan does not have any questions like, "Why?" or "How come it had to be this way?". Questions we are plagued with as we are still here aching over our loss. Bryan sees clearly now whereas when he was here on earth, he only saw in part. Everything Bryan was made for, what he was created to be, whole and strong and beautiful and glorious, he WAS in that moment just after he breathed his last. And he was sober.

I was made to testify of the gospel of God's grace. In order for me to finish the race well and complete the task that God has set before me, I feel the need to ask you the same questions that I asked my brother, the same questions that I discuss with my children over and over again: If today was the last day of your life, do you KNOW without a shadow of doubt that your home for eternity will be Heaven with Jesus? And WHY do you believe that?

The answer to the second question is as important as the first. "Because I am an American", for instance, would not be the correct answer :) Or "I am a good person". Also not right.

I don't mean to be a freak. But I guess I am. Because I cannot NOT do what I was made for. And I can't help talking about Who I was made for. My prayer is that someone reading this blog needs to hear the words I have typed today and give careful consideration to their answers to my two questions. If you are that someone, please let me know. I have a cool booklet that explains the Way much better than I can here. I can get a Bible to you too. My brother's death is teaching me how to live. I am unafraid of sounding like a freak, if it means someone hears the Truth who hasn't before. This blog is posted with prayers for that person, maybe it is you?

***DISCLAIMER: YOU CAN NOT "HEAR" MY HEART AS YOU READ THIS BLOG. NOR CAN I ADDRESS ALL THE THINGS THAT POP INTO YOUR MIND AS YOU PONDER THINGS LIKE, "HOW CAN BRYAN HAVE BEEN A BELIEVER WHEN HE WAS AN ALCOHOLIC?" THESE ARE GOOD QUESTIONS AND THERE ARE BIBLICAL ANSWERS (ROMANS 7). I DO NOT HAVE ALL THE THEOLOGICAL ANSWERS, I ONLY KNOW WHAT GOD GENTLY SHOWED ME AS I BEGGED HIM TO REVEAL HIS HEART AND HIS TRUTH TO ME. YOU CAN DO THE SAME THING, ASK HIM. AND THE BIBLE PROMISES THAT GOD WILL ANSWER YOU. SO GO AHEAD AND ASK HIM ABOUT THE SEEMING INCONSISTENCIES WITH WHAT I AM SAYING AND WHAT YOU KNOW ABOUT RELIGION. GOD DOES HAVE THE ANSWERS. THAT IS CALLED PRAYER--TALKING WITH GOD. HE USUALLY ANSWERS FROM HIS BIBLE. SO READ IT. ***

Christmas Past

Bryan is in the Ram's helmet. He was a Chief's fan as an adult--but growing up, he got Rams stuff from my dad. Dad is still a loyal Ram-fan. Grandma Birthday is popping her head up in the back of the picture on the right.

We spent every Christmas Day at my Grandma Birthday's home in San Pedro. I can still place all the furniture and nic-nacs in my mind. I loved that old house. My brother did too.
1980, Bryan is 8.

Look at his Winnie-the-Pooh footed Pj's! I have Wonder Woman on. My parents put nuts and tangerines in the bottom of our stockings, along with other fun stuff, and we have carried on the tradition in the Fitzpatrick home. Gotta love the mustard-colored shag carpet!

I know I said that I was going to start a series on Christmas but it has proved more difficult than I anticipated. Christmas was Bryan's favorite time of the year. He began his love for the season as a child and it only grew as he did. As children, it was rare to find Christmas photos of us in jammies. We liked to sleep in my dad's old t-shirts. We would wake up and enjoy a quick family Christmas and then dash off to do our Christmas Day travelling. Grandma and Grandpa's house (with my Grandpa's "perfect" noble fir trees--always my brother's inspiration) and sometimes to my Grandma Flo's. Always to Uncle John and Aunt Barbara's (where Bryan and I would try and "best" our cousins in the coolest gift competition. It never worked because they had the home field advantage and we were only allowed to bring one present with us to show off! I am still bitter :). And then to my godparent's and my dad's best friend's Hy and Shirl. We put on quite a few miles for one day. I remember being exhausted from all the festivities but Bryan thrived. He loved the hustle and bustle and gift-opening and yummy treats. And he loved being near his family.

It is one of my great regrets that we did not stick with the tradition of travelling on Christmas Day with my parents and my brother. They did it every year except last Christmas. Bryan always wanted us too. And Bob and I did start out our marriage joining them. But when our children came along, it was too hard for me to take them from my hubby's side of the family. And going to both was too taxing...yada, yada. So I don't have the recent memories of extended family time. I know that I can't take it back. I realize that we did make the decision that we thought was best for our family at the time. But hind sight is 20/20--you know? And if I had known then what I know now--that my Christmases with my brother, my children's beloved Uncle, were going to be cut short, I would have savored every single minute with him.

We have been watching home movies the last couple of weeks around here. Christmas 2004 was on two nights ago. Uncle B was "santa", handing out all the gifts under the tree. He must have bought out "Claire's Boutique"--the girls went nuts for his presents. My eyes were fixed on his face on the screen. It glowed. He had the unique ability to capture the essence of child-likeness, even when he was in his thirties. He was radiant. Christmas will never be the same.

One of those Days

I can remember no details about this photo.

I think Bryan is 5 or 6 and it is the late '70's.

But evidently, my mom was having "one of THOSE days".

I am not having "one of THOSE days" today. If I were, I would not be attempting to blog. You know those days: where everything goes wrong, nothing goes your way, and you are surrounded by clueless (or contributing) people who have no idea of all the plates you've been spinning and how they are all about to crash down around you. Ever had a(ny) day(s) like that? My mom did. As evidenced by this picture. Bryan and I certainly kept her busy. She was in the trenches with two young kids and no reinforcement troops. I can relate to that season in life. I am in it myself. But I am not as forsaken as the forlorn gal in the above picture. I have her--my kid's beloved grandma. Here. Close by. Every-ready to lend a helping hand. A shoulder to cry on. A compatriot in the hard things in life (like buying a bathing suit). My mom. One of my best friends. Thanks for coming over every afternoon and keeping me sane. I am sorry you did not have your mom or a close girlfriend to walk through days like the one you were having in this photo. But it makes me grin to see Bryan's goofy face, completely oblivious to your struggle, just being a boy. And a cute one at that! I am glad you made it out alive, Momma!

PS You passed on that gene to me, Mom. The "Pretend-It-Is-All-Good" chromosome is missing in me too. Even for a photo op, you and I both are incapable of faking it. Bryan must of hogged those genes. He was so good at the happy face.

The Rodeo, the Circus, and the Pirates I Have Loved

I just like this picture--and it shows the yellow table for two that I cherished when I was little. Bryan has a PIRATE hat on--just like Peter!

It is the same chairs that Bryan and I used as our bucking broncos

in the next photo when we were much older.

I wish I still had that table set!

Christmas 1976ish?

Our children at their Penny Circus yesterday.
Cartwheeling Kate, Aidan the Strongman, Circus Master Reilly, 'Fraidy-Cat Frank the CowClown (Samuel), and Pirate Pete.
They charged admission but the audience (Grandma, Beempa, Bob & I) were happy to pay.
March 2009


Rodeo Riders December the early '80's

I love connecting my life as a kid with my children's. It makes me feel like a child all over again. Bryan and I were goofballs. We lived out in the boonies and had no neighborhood buddies to play with. So when we weren't in school, we were each other's only playmates. Kinda like my homeschooled kids. They are weird too.

Chuckling over their strange antics and creative play and wild imagination takes me back to the day. Bryan and I came up with some pretty funny stuff to do to keep ourselves amused. The above picture is us being Rodeo Stars riding our bucking broncos. Looking over my shoulder as I am writing this post, Aidan exclaimed, "Is Uncle B in his underwear??????" He was aghast. I don't have the heart to tell him that I have a bunch of indiscreet photos of him playing in his undies. I can't wait to show them to his wife one day :)

I cannot remember the details of our imaginative game here. I can surmise by the photo that I was mighty proud of the band-aids I am showing off. And Bryan could only find one shoe. But I do many clear memories of playing war, fort, GI Joe, barbies, knight and damsel, cop and robber, coloring, and countless other things that kids play. I did them all, with my brother. He was my first friend. My good friend. Those were fun times. I didn't think we were dorky or silly at the time. I was just glad when he would play school with me. I was always the teacher (like Reilly is always the boss in their games). Right of the firstborn, I guess. And he was happy when I would consent to play toy soldiers with him (he always won the war). I hope my kids enjoy reminiscing over sweet childhood memories when they are my age. I want them to grow up close and loving with each other--just like Bryan and me.

The Soundtrack for my Life...Today

Every time Jeremy Camp's song comes on our car radio (or our computer), my children cringe. I guess it was past due time to update my playlist. I forgot to put it on shuffle on so "There Will Be a Day" popped on every day. They are burnt out. I bet you are too. But I need to add a caveat to the music I added this time--it is mine. Not Bryan's. I am not sure he has heard but a few of them. But they are the songs that mark my life today. Where I am at this moment. In Track 2 I hear my sweet Savior's words to me, to you too. And "Show You Love" is my anthem for today. A reminder song--I am determined to let Love be my language as I interact with my neighbors, the lab technician, our librarian, my children, my mom, you. And the others? They represent my change in heart. My healing heart. God is good. All the time. I am blessed. I remember that today. These songs are mine. But I am a part of Bryan's story too, so indulge me. Or click on the pause button and read in silence. Bryan would not have chosen these songs. But if he were here, I would not be writing a blog. And so this music is for my heart while I sit here everyday and mine the wealth of treasures my memory holds. May it be a sweet sound to you too.

A Cold Shower

One of my supreme delights as a teenager was to catch my brother unaware and pour a huge cup of ice cold water over his head while he showered. I particularly enjoyed abusing Bryan during wintertime. But you know what they say about payback? Boy, was he better at assailing me while off guard! Bryan and I mastered the stealth secrets necessary to sneak up on one another successfully. Our goal was not only to terrify each other BUT to use torture tactics. It added to the fun! It was a running gag we played on each other for years and years.

I have told my kids these things. They knew that Uncle B and I LOVED to scare each other while lying in wait somewhere. I tell them stories about me at their age so that they will know that I understand how hard it is too be good :), I am not THAT old. Anyway, yesterday Peter ran straight into my arms protesting, "Not my momma! Not my momma!". The fierce way he clung to me was endearing. Then his naughty brothers and sisters ran up to us, giggling. Not one of them can keep a secret--so the story spilled out. Kate devised a scheme in which they would collaborate to pour ice water over my head while I showered. They assumed Peter would go along with their mutiny. Not my boy. My noble, knightly two-year old protected me from his traitorous siblings. I wonder what kind of funny business Bryan and I would have pulled off if we had more mischievous minds to connive with? It's a good thing Mom and Dad just had the two of us. I think Bob and I may be in trouble.

Stringing Popcorn

Christmas Some Year

You are on to me. I am avoiding writing about Christmas after all my big talk. It has proved harder than I imagined. I can't believe I won't share another Christmas with Bryan. My brain is small and it cannot wrap around that fact just now. I will add that I am so grateful that I have spent EVERY single Christmas morning of my life with my brother. It is a gift that I will treasure in my heart until we are reunited. Not many families are as close as we were. I know that now. I did not know it then. I consider all the years I was given with Bryan a special prize. And I am beginning to think about Bryan's death in a new way--not so much pity and sorrow for myself, but finally the abillity to think about Bryan and what his life is like now. And so I can be happy for him. Even though I am still sad for me. Hard to explain. But it seems "more right" than pure grief.

So I will just post some quickies...this picture was taken in the late seventies in our old home in Ontario. We are sitting around that formica table I can still remember, stringing popcorn and cranberries. Bryan is about 6 or 7? Love those big 'ole bunny teeth! It may look craftsy and traditional but stringing garland is hard work! I am sure my mom did most of the work and we did most of the snacking.

When I moved out on my own at 19, my roommate and I were nostalgic and hokey. We decided it would be sentimental to string our own popcorn for our first Charlie Brown tree. Deanna and I popped bowls of popcorn and threaded and pulled and threaded and pulled. Do you know hwo many times the pieces just broke after all that threading and pulling? After hours, we had one small rope to ornament our tree. WAY too much work. So I commend you today, mom for your endurance. I have never even attempted the tradition with our children! But now I know why you switched to fake garland when money wasn't so tight.

PS Yes, Meredith, this story was prompted by my craving for popcorn this week. :)

The Luck of the Irish

It's St. Patrick's Day and I was pinched over and over again today. I forgot to wear green. How sad is that? My name is Kelly Fitzpatrick. Pathetic. But here is the cincher...I have not one single memory of St. Patty's Celebrations with my brother--he worked at Hennessey's Tavern for many, many moons. And he ALWAYS worked the busiest night of the year: March 17. So I have nothing to share. Do any of you, friends and family?