When Brad was still living in California and I was in Oregon, seeing him was always one of the bright spots on our trips down to see the family. Though we only saw each other maybe once a year, I felt close to him and enjoyed his company greatly. A bit older than me, he was halfway between a cousin and uncle. We shared laughs and a good time, and I also felt like he was looking out for me, and was there for me. Inevitably the laughs and jokes carried the day, and we had our fun. And at the same time what stood out was the respect he showed to those around him. I always felt valued, comfortable, and safe (even if I was the butt of a few jokes). I never quite got used to seeing him in his police uniform. He was the only police officer I knew, and I understood that represented a sacrifice on his part. But it never seemed to weigh on him. Nothing did. In reality he must have had his share of stresses and worries, but they never showed. He must have been a man of tremendous inner strength.
Later, I moved away, and he moved to Oregon. I was glad for him to find a new home in my home state, but I saw him even more rarely, as my own life progressed and I found it harder and harder to come back home. The last time I saw Brad was two summers ago. I can’t believe that will be the last time forever. I’m only his faraway cousin… and yet I feel a void with him gone. I realize now he wasn’t just family, he was also a friend, and I miss him a lot. Love you, Brad!
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