Brian passed away a little over a year ago.   This blog is one of the remarkable legacies he left his family and friends.   It is a great source of strength and inspiration to people who are going through a similar struggle or who know someone who is -- in other words, all of us!
To keep the blog from going dormant, I am posting one of the eulogies read at his funeral.   I'll post the others at other times.
As his wife, I will say this past year has been hard because I missed him; but I did not properly remember him.  I recently revisited the blog and it reminds me of what I can do to move forward and honor my husband's memory.   I'm sure that's what he intended!
Be well, Robbie

From Frank:

May 14, 2013.  Thank you, Brian.

Looking at all the pictures around the room, I realize that I’m a latecomer to the miracle that was (is) Brian.

I met Brian at our kids’ charter school.  He was the outgoing finance wonk on the Board and I was the newcomer.  That was 2002, I believe.  We met for him to give me some background on the school’s finances and to go over what he thought the challenges were.  He told me there was only one major challenge – he said “we need to expand or we’ll die.” 

Over the next few years, Brian was a leader on the Expansion Committee.  Moreover, he was our chosen presenter at school-wide status updates.  I remember being awestruck at how wonderfully reasonable and cogent his presentations were.  He could always see things more clearly than everybody else, and he was a master of communicating that clarity.

I missed Brian when he and the family moved to Richmond, though we did visit on the way back from our trip to North Carolina and Tennessee.  I recall that we took a tour of Petersburg battlefield site with his family.

It was when Brian came back, though, that we really became close.  I had a consulting gig in Manhattan, and he and I would meet for Scotch and dinner some evenings when he was staying at the corporate apartment.  He even lent our family the apartment for the 2008 4^th of July weekend.  It was great living in Manhattan for the 4^th!  But this was also around the time that he gave me the bad news about his colon cancer.  He was clearly concerned but still upbeat and optimistic.  His objective was to live life to the fullest and just get as far as he could.

That winter, in early 2009, we embarked upon what has become known as the Puerto Rico Frat Boys Vacation.  Quite frankly, I was surprised and flattered to even be invited – again, being the latecomer to Brian’s inner circle, even though I knew the rest of the crew from the charter school.  Those few days were magic.  Despite the obligatory afternoon nap, we had a wonderful time lounging on the beach and exploring the island by night – the casino (Brian won $120), out-of-the way restaurants, and even a bar or two (surprised?).

In June 2010, Brian, the great presenter, enlisted me to explain the story of the housing bubble and the 2008 economic collapse to a rally of the Coffee Party.  I did just that (as it turns out, in painful detail) to a packed crowd of over 5 concerned citizens.  I’m sure they knew it was going to be me talking, not Brian.

In January of 2011, I was able to have Brian to myself for a 4-day weekend in Miami.  We toured the architecture (and the bars and restaurants, of course) of South Beach as well as a really neat park on Key Biscayne.  (Brian took many photos of the foliage and of lighthouses.)  But the most intimate highlight of the trip was his sharing the first 2/3 of his novel with me.  So while he took his afternoon nap, I sat in the living room rapt in the pages of his imagination.  One of the greatest compliments I’ve ever received was to be asked to be one of Brian’s literary critics.

Over the last couple of years, we’ve found ways to get together despite being some distance apart.  He’s visited me at my house, and I’ve visited him at his.  We went to Monmouth Park racetrack together, then ate steamers at a little restaurant on the water near where he grew up.  We also met at a lobster roll place in NYC’s East Village.  We started the practice of meeting for lunch at different restaurants in New Brunswick and did that a few times.  I know it’s selfish, but it was always great to have him to myself to talk about his treatments, about politics, about work, about our families, and about life.  He never sugar-coated anything, but he wasn’t needlessly cynical or pessimistic.  There was (is) a beauty of spirit about Brian, and that relentless clarity of thought and expression.  I learned so much from him, and it has softened me over the years.

A few weeks ago, Brian and I had lunch together for the last time at a local sushi place.  It was the most intimate conversation we’d ever had.  I had to ask him.  I asked if he was or thought he would ever be at a point of closure about life.  What he said surprised me, but it shouldn’t have.  He said “No.”  He said that there could never be closure.  He said that there was more to do every day, there was more to learn every day, there was more to enjoy, and to love.  I thought he was talking about himself, but I realize now that it was his message to all of us.

Yes, I came late to the miracle that is Brian.  But I’m grateful to have been part of his life at all.  Thank you, Robbie, for sharing him with me.  Thank you, Brian, for being who you are.