Brian is one of the most genuine, caring, and authentic persons I have even known. Looking back, I find it hard to tell a specific story that focuses only on Brian. Rather, I mostly recall how he made others feel. And, so it goes with me too.

But, during this period of grief and remembrance, there is in fact a story that involves Brian, one that has been there waiting for the right moment to be told. This moment is it.

I had just started a new job and was spending a work week in the Boulder, CO area. I think Brian lived in Louisville at that time. We both loved photography and climbing, in fact, we met as fellow members of the Texas Mountain Raiders climbing club. I had brought my camera gear this trip, and had planned an early morning photo shoot of the front-range Flat Irons, as they're so aptly named.

The photoshoot turned out to be one of the most traumatic and emotional events of my life. It was a catalyst to many challenges on the future road ahead for me. The specific timeline is fuzzy now after more than twenty years passing. But, I distinctly recall Brian making time to be present with me during the event's distressing aftermath. The companionship and comfort he offered as we sat mostly silent for several hours in my hotel's dining area, is the part I will never forget.

You see, earlier that morning, at the very breaking of dawn, while clicking my camera's shutter, I discovered a military veteran that had attempted suicide by handgun. His attempt was unsuccessful. The horrific scene unimaginable.

My employer told me to go home for the day, or even the entire week if need be. Home? I couldn't go "home", rather my only available refuge was the temporary guest room that acted as a crude semblance of one. Knowing for certain I would be unable to immediately jump on an airplane, I booked travel back to my real home the following day.

Deeply engrossed in an intense state of shock, and not wanting to be left entirely alone, I called Brian. Of course I had notified my wife, but her warm embrace was over a thousand miles away. I also knew Brian would answer my call. Frequently during my business travels to the Boulder area, Brian and I would meet for lunch or dinner. We both love Indian & Nepalese food, which almost always influenced our choice of locale for these meetups. In fact, Brian turned me on to "Sherpa's" -an eclectic Nepalese place located in an old historic house just north of Pearl St mall.

Exactly as predicted, Brian answered. He must've thought I was calling to discuss a foodie meetup. I think I stammered out a brief summary of what had happened earlier that morning. Again, this part of the story is quite foggy, and I was a mental basket case. Brian didn't hesitate at all. Within minutes, he arrived at my hotel to join me in that green upholstered booth.

Somehow, Brian patiently and compassionately listened to me repeatedly recount the morning's event in rambling and incoherent ways. The PTS was all-consuming, yet Brian provided a calm reassurance that everything would eventually work out. That's another trait I vividly recall about Brian -the ability to remain slightly optimistic, never pessimistic, yet firmly pragmatic.

Brian cared about everyone, even those he didn't actually know. I witnessed Brian's selflessness in action first-hand. Not only did he frequently call to check up on me, he followed up on that veteran too. Somehow, Brian discovered a local news story about the man, and if I am recalling things correctly, even went to pay respects at the hospital room. While the exact specifics are now so vague, I have no doubt that Brian demonstrated more empathy and compassion for that stranger than some people do for their own families.

Brian and I remained friends long after that fateful incident. We tried scaling the Third Flatiron late one afternoon, but got sketched out over the thought of a hanging rappel at dark. Turns out we both forgot to pack headlamps thinking we would be down and done well before dark. So beers at Southern Sun Brewery it was!

In 2018, I moved my family up to Colorado. In fact, only a few miles from Brian, Amy, and Joseph. Our Indian and Nepalese excursions became a somewhat regular occurrence at the local Yak & Yeti. I tried to plan some "guy" things with Brian, after all, our connection felt so strong. But, he had more important priorities. Seemed like each and every time I attempted to coordinate something, he politely declined.

As disappointing as that may seem, I came to understand that his urgent priority was his son Joseph. Having two boys myself, there's little room to harbor any ill feelings towards my dear friend that so ardently maintained his priorities to those he cherished most. Pragmatic, yet loving.

In spite of such intense focus, Brian would never hesitate to rush to my aid. When I needed help unloading a new rolling toolbox off my truck bed, he was there. When I couldn't lift a new above-range microwave by myself, within minutes Brian was there. Same thing with my RV cover. When I shared the massive challenge around digging up old concrete posts, he laughingly advised me on the "Oz Puller", even letting me use up remaining hours on his rental contract.

The cadence of our Indian food lunch meets had fallen off these last nearly two years. Brian invited me to celebrate my 60th birthday over lunch. I had just gotten laid off from my job, almost to the day. My life was thrown into chaos, and I mistakenly stood him up on the day we had agreed to meet. Upon asking him to remind me of our scheduled meal date, he texted back: "Man, I was there on the Monday we agreed at noon and didn't see you. Glad you are well." Welp. Super embarrassed and full of remorse.

Reaching out to profusely apologize was met with silence. "Damnit to all hell! I am so sorry about that. I didn't get it on my calendar and got my weeks mixed up. I offer my sincere apology. Please le me make this up?" More than a week goes by. Crickets. Crap, I've hurt our friendship.

Out of the blue I get a text from Brian. "Dude. Sorry to miss the reply here. Of course we will reconnect. Stuff happens. Joseph got his first lead in Rocky Mountain National Park today at Lumpy Ridge. Crazy." And of course, he sent the receipts to prove it. Four pics of Joseph demonstrating his prowess. I could feel Brian's immense pride ooze through the phone's screen.

This brief encounter so eloquently describes Brian as I know him. Stuff happens. Pragmatic, yet caring and forgiving.

I called Brian a while back. Got his voicemail and left a message. Probably something about an Indian food meetup. A day or so later, he texted back. "Good day Sir. We are in France and back on Sunday. Will give you a call when we get back." He didn't call back. I assumed it was the usual. Work and spending time with Amy & Joseph. His priorities. I didn't mind at all. Mostly, because that is the Brian I know.

Brian, I'll certainly miss our foodie meetups. You're forever in my heart, my friend.

- Scott