I wanted to share the speech I gave at my dad's celebration of life:

First, I want to thank everyone who is here, in person, virtually, or in spirit. 

My dad’s only wishes for his departure to the next realm were making sure that his ashes remained with my mom, so that he could always be with her, and to have a small, heartfelt gathering of loved ones. Nothing fancy; more for us than for him. 

My dad was anything but traditional, so I don’t expect this gathering to be your typical memorial service, but a true celebration of his life. I am not going to give a eulogy; I could try to tell my dad’s life story, but I know that he was so much more than just my dad. What I would really love is to hear from all of you, your memories and stories of him and that we spend this time laughing, eating well and drinking our fill.

In true Randy Brown fashion, I started working on what I was going to say in the car ride on the way here today. To be quite honest, I’ve been thinking about what I might want to say about my dad for weeks. But I can’t tell you how intimidating it is to try to think of what to say about a man who was so skilled with words - always had the best stories, always ready with the perfect toast. 

I don’t think I inherited that skill. But I am going to give it my best shot.

Another reason I’ve avoided working on some kind of speech is that it is so incredibly painful to try to talk about a such a vivacious person in the past tense, when I still really can’t quite fathom that he isn’t here - at least not physically. Going through all the photos preparing a slide show, listening to all the music, reflecting on all the memories, the good, the less good and the totally weird, I just keep thinking about what an absolute force of nature my dad was, and really still is. 

In the small sampling of photos, I hope you all get to see what I see. A vibrant, silly, wickedly smart, charming, and sweet man - a real goofball -  who absolutely loved being a dad and maybe loved being a grandfather even more. A man who spent decades being totally in love with an equally vibrant, smart, funny Catholic girl who caught his eye and captured his heart dancing on the local North Platte television station, my mom, Peggy.  

Looking through all the photos that literally span 60 years, I can’t really comprehend all the experiences they had together, all the lives they lived together. 

I feel so lucky that somehow my soul was born into this particular family, with this ragtag crew of loving, and lovable, lunatics. If there is one thing I am 100% sure of, it is that both of my parents loved my sister and me with all of their being. That through fun times and tough times, we would always stick together, even when we might be more inclined to strangle each other. 

These were the things my dad repeated most to us in his last months, weeks and days. How much he loved us. That despite however we may see ourselves, he thought we were all perfect. That he will always, always be with us. I hope that I can give my own children that same feeling. 

I am grateful that my dad invited me on this wild ride. I am grateful that when he got sick, when life seemed to finally catch up with Randal Bruce Brown, that I got to spend so many days with him, listening to his favorite songs, reading books to him, bringing him his favorite donuts, snuggling up to him in his hospital bed, seeing that even after a stroke, an amputation, and many difficult days in and out of the hospital, he could still crack some pretty great jokes. He loved to see us smiling and laughing. 

I am comforted knowing that towards the end, my dad was visited by his brother Bob, his mother Marian, and I am especially happy to know he was with my brother Patrick. I am sure there were others - I know there was a wonderful welcoming party when he departed this world, and I am sure my dad made the most of it, finally free to travel anywhere and everywhere, whole again, and no longer restricted to a wheelchair or bed. As he told me about a year before his passing, “Don’t be sad. Soon, I will be everywhere and nowhere.”

Finally, I would like to make a toast. I wouldn’t be able to do this without a toast. So, please, raise your glasses.

To Tubby and Frog Legs, thank you for being my parents. 

And one more… to dad, I hope that it is finally weird enough for you. Cheers.