My thoughts are a jumble on this day and especially tomorrow, October 4. On that day, nine years ago, my son Brett died very suddenly. He was 19 years old and living in Edmonton when he contracted meningococcal disease and died. He didn't have a chance. The germ invaded his body and within a matter of hours he was dead. I am still in shock this many years later. A part of me cannot let go. There is nothing worse than losing your child. In a perfect world we are supposed to die before our children. In this less than perfect world we ended up planning a funeral for our youngest son. We were all devastated by his death and I still am. My heart broke the day he died. Even though with time the pain has subsided into a safe place I still revisit and with the visit comes the pain. It is hard to describe since for a good long while I actually felt physical pain and I thought I was going to die. Maybe it is because I wished that I had died. I don't know, it's complicated and I don't think it merits an explanation anyway.

I wrote his eulogy since I didn't trust anybody else to do it. Typical of me. I recorded it a few days before his funeral since I didn't want anyone else to read it either. Very typical of me.

Here is the eulogy and I think it typifies his life.

Brett Michael Martin was born Monday June 15, 1981 at City Hospital in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan - 20 1/2 inches long, 9 lbs. 9 oz.

This is the hardest, most heart breaking thing we have ever had to do, yet we must. Today we are here to say farewell to our son, brother, grandson, nephew, cousin, friend, boyfriend and best friend.

It is very difficult for us to get our minds around this horrible thing that has happened to him. We cannot believe it, but it's true.

Part of letting him go is by doing this, by sharing his life as we knew it. Everything we say and do and see reminds us of him. He was many things besides a son, a relative, a friend.

Brett was a cook and a baker. He knew his way around the kitchen. Just a couple of weeks ago he called to ask advice about a recipe. Another time not so long ago he was making perogies (the store bought kind Baba). He wanted to bake them in the oven and the instructions on the back of the bag said to use vegetable oil to coat the baking sheet. He didn't have any and he was wondering if margarine would do. He knew that his mother would have the answer to that one. When he was much younger he and friend Jesse would rush to our house after school and get out the recipe books. They made popcorn cake, O Henry Bars and buns. Oh the buns..... As usual there was a big commotion, this time over the buns. They mixed, stirred, kneaded and let rise and finally baked them. Once they were all made they divided them up equally and Jesse took his home. Brett took his to his room. No way was he going to share with the rest of the family. His reasoning? It was his idea, he made them, they were his to dispose of as he saw fit and that was it. All those years of Beavers and all the Sharing, Sharing, Sharing he shouted out at the beginning of each meeting and it never sunk in! What a guy. Over time he created birthday cakes, pies, cookies, steaks, casseroles and salads and either gave them away or shared them. Atta boy.

Brett was a planner. We will never forget the surprise 18th Anniversary bash he threw for us on Dec. 1, 1991, a Sunday. All day Saturday and halfway through the night, he and co-conspirator Jesse, connived, construed and coordinated the most wonderful anniversary breakfast complete with bacon and eggs and toast which they made at 3:00 a.m. and left in the oven to keep warm until serving time later on that morning. We also had coffee and cake. Only Jesse's Mom and Dad, Heather and Dale, know what it took to bake and decorate that cake. Our kitchen was decorated with balloons from Sinclair's Shop Rite and a huge banner courtesy of Nicholas Danylyshen, master of the computer. We even got presents, a little bottle of Brut aftershave for Dad and a birthstone ring for Mom. Small towns being what they are we weren't surprised when the girls at the store and drug store asked later on in the week how the party went! What a party.

Brett was an experienced debater. This can be confirmed by most guys who ever refereed any of his hockey games! His debating skills were known far and wide. Of course he was always right, the striped shirts had absolutely no idea what they were doing. It sure made the games interesting.

Brett was a traveller. He went from a stroller to a walker to a wagon to a trike. From there he graduated to a bike with training wheels. He took those wheels off himself, who needed them anyway. Biking took the form of adventure as well. When he was six he and Jesse were riding double and Brett was in front when they crashed. Whoops! Poor kid. We carted him off to the hospital and he even had an ambulance ride to Saskatoon. Nothing broken, a lot of bruising where he didn't want anyone to know and he got to stay home from school the next day. Well then it was on to a skateboard and roller blades. He learned to drive a vehicle out at the Waite Farms at Sovereign, Saskatchewan. We of course knew nothing about this until much later when it came up in the course of a conversation. I wonder if Jesse's grandparents knew??!! Two days after his 16th birthday he got his driver's license and then it was off to the races - literally. He slowed down once he saw the consequences of speeding tickets versus car insurance in Alberta. His last long road trip was to Dawson Creek, B.C. where he took Danielle and Paul to visit their grandparents. We want you to know Brett that the first conviction for speeding, after three long years, expired yesterday. So travel on.

Brett was an author, story teller, deep thinker and philosopher. He wrote this little story in Grade Four entitled "Thanksgiving Stolen":

When I went to my calendar to look how many days there were to Thanksgiving, but it was not in the calendar. There were fingerprints on the calendar and footprints on the table and floor. It looked like the fingerprints and footprints were dipped in my mom's gravy. I went to my friend's house to see if they had Thanksgiving there. But there also were fingerprints and footprints.
"Well Bill it looks like it's up to you and me to crack this case."
They went out to work. We went to my house first to ask the potato salad what he saw. He said he saw the turkey come into the house and take Thanksgiving. Then he saw him go out to a factory and dump it into a little hole inside the factory. They asked the cranberry sauce what he saw. He saw the same thing as the potato salad. I think the turkey stole Thanksgiving. They knocked on the factory door but nobody answered so they opened the door and they saw the Thanksgiving sign on the floor. They phoned the police and told them all they knew. They saw the turkey cruising around the town. They caught the turkey. Thanksgiving was saved by me and Bill. The End.

We wish that we could have saved more Thanksgivings for you Brett.

Sometimes his actions inspired other budding authors like his brother. Nicholas wrote this in his journal: "Brett was a brat today and mom turned into a firing breathing dragon."

The philosopher came out in him too. His explanation for most of what he said or did was, "Why? Cuz want to." That expression became a family favorite.

Storytelling with him took on a life of its own. To be honest we never knew after a while if he was telling a big whopper, as he liked to call it, or the truth! So we just went with the flow. He liked to say things to bug you and then when you had just about enough he would quit and walk away. It was an art form.

Brett was a collector. When he was little his pockets were very interesting on laundry days. Stones, sticks, pennies, gum (the chewed variety), important notes from school. When he got older he collected rocks to put around our back yard pond and wild flowers used to find their way home in his lunch bucket after a hard days work at his summer job. He was also a collector of CDs, colourful socks and friends.

Brett was a stylist. He took charge of his own hair and clothes from an early age. When he needed a hair cut he would go off to Bonnie Ross's Hair Shop in Milden and she knew exactly what he wanted. He got the perfect cut every time, probably with more than a little advice from his friend Bob, Bonnie's son. After we moved to Veteran he just couldn't find anyone to do it the way he liked so he took it upon himself. We bought clippers and oh boy those clippers were very busy over at the Kloberdanz household and where all else we are not sure! Curtis and Brett would come up with some interesting techniques. The one we enjoyed the most was when they shaved their heads before the big basketball tournament in Halkirk for the Highway 12 League Championship. They made it to the final game and won the trophy. Good job they did because Brett had the letters CHAMP carved in the back of his head and tinted with dark green. Cheeky wasn't he? From shaving himself bald he went to growing it out a bit and dying it several different shades. Then when he got tired of that he let it grow longer and longer and longer and dyed it blonder and blonder and blonder. His wild looking mop of bright blonde hair was a huge topic of conversation. People used to ask if it was a wig. Little did they know that his golden curly locks would make him the Edmonton Sun's Sunshine Boy in July of this year! Shine on.

He loved to choose his own clothes and alter them as well. After a whole day of shopping for and trying on blue jeans and finally making a purchase he would announce that he would have to cut some off the bottom. If he felt that a shirt was too long he would get out the sewing machine and hem it up. We had needle and thread handy at all times because you never knew when he might have to mend those large holes in those flannel pants he used to wear. One thing about Brett is that he had a different style every day when it came to clothes. He was not a conformist by any means.

Now for the shoes. His feet were like two cinder blocks on the end of tree stumps. Shopping for shoes was a nightmare. Not only were his feet an odd shape, but he was fussy. We would go to shoe store after shoe store. Finally he found the type he liked. Believe it or not but he only had two pairs of shoes (with the exception of runners) from the time he was in Grade Eight til Grade Twelve. Stone Ridge from Aldo Shoes. The first pair rotted right off his feet and we had to throw them out before he would agree to get another pair. We would go to hockey games in the dead of winter, snow all over the place, bone chilling cold and there he'd be, bare feet inside of holey shoes, bursting at the seams and the soles flopping for all they were worth. The coach would have the bus driver stop five or six blocks from the arena where they were playing and make the boys get off the bus and run to the rink. How he ever ran with that foot gear is a mystery.

Brett was a student. We were so proud with his acceptance to NAIT this spring during a very difficult and trying time in his life. We supported his decision to soldier on and enroll in the Business Administration program. He was so happy. He had the biggest grin on his face even as he had to wait in line to register since patience was not one of his strong points. I gave him a hard time. I told him I never thought I would see the day when he was practically begging to go to school.

Brett was a lover of all sports and a fierce competitor. He played hard and he always played to win. If his ball team lost a game he would give the car tires a good kick before he got in. If they were down by a huge score in a volleyball game he gave it his all until the final buzzer. If they were up by a huge score in a basketball game he still hustled. An example of this was the much practiced slam dunk used in a game against Castor in Jr. High, played in Veteran. Veteran was ahead by a large margin, the outcome of the game was not in question. In the dying seconds of the game Keith got the ball at centre court, he turned as if to wildly throw the ball towards the basket. Suddenly Clayton starts running towards the basket and he gets down on his hands and knees. We thought he had totally lost it. But that was not all. Brett runs towards Clayton, Keith passes the ball to Brett. Brett jumps on Clayton's back and slam dunks that ball as hard as he can just before the buzzer goes to end the game. Thank you Mr. Meyer for letting them have their fun. He loved to tell that story.

In hockey there was no quit in Brett although at times he got frustrated as we all do. He started out in Milden at the age of five and finished up with Midget in Killam at the age of almost 18. He didn't play for a year and worked instead. Then the lure of hockey was too great, the thrill of competing had a hold on him and he played what was to be his last game in Killam with the Jr. B Wheat Kings on September 29. We went up to watch him play. Why wouldn't we? We went to all his games. He looked good out there considering he'd been off skates for a year. Danielle saw him play for the very first time. He played defense and got one assist and one penalty. After the game we waited for him and had a little visit. He signed some papers from the bank. He bragged about a big body check he threw; he asked, "Did you see it?"

We had a discussion about his brand new shoes. He told us he made 83 percent on a quiz for his Statistics Class. I gave him a bag full of sour cream crescents I had baked for him - Grandma's recipe.

We said goodbye, had a little hug and off he went. He was happy.

We are so grateful to have had Brett for the time that we did. We was a wonderful son, a good and thoughtful brother, grandson, nephew, cousin and friend. He loved life. He packed a lot of living into those 19 years. Our memories of him will live on forever. We will always love him for what he was and not for what we thought he should have or could have been. Thank you Brett for being yourself.

Brett Michael Martin, our Sunshine Boy, died Wednesday, October 4, 2000 at the Royal Alexandra Hospital in Edmonton, Alberta. 6 feet 200 lbs.

Goodbye Brett.