As we sat in Kurt's funeral, my thoughts and emotions ran rampantly. I felt guilty because I had not been aware of the gravity of his illness and therefore had not been a part of his life during those last months; I didn't have a chance to say good-bye. My sense of loss became even more vivid as I listened to person after person describe their relationship with the deceased. Listening, I realized I had no relationship with this person; my first cousin and now I could only become acquainted with him through the fond verbal accounts of others.
He evidently experienced many victories and accomplished much during his lifetime; Victories not witnessed by me. He obviously underwent a major transformation and overcame odds that would test the average person's imagination. I was aware of many of the obstacles but had no knowledge of the way in which Kurt met these challenges.
However, these thoughts proved to be only a minute portion of my feelings of guilt. The pastor of Kurt's church happened to be my first love, Brandon E. Kinkaid. I hadn't seen him in more than twenty years and seldom thought of him. When I think of Brandon it's always with fond memories and a smile. Our relationship, one of young, innocent love spanned junior and senior high school. We broke up during our senior year for no spoken reason yet we always enjoyed warm, friendly dialogue whenever chance brought us together momentarily.
As I prepared to travel to Omaha for Kurt's funeral, my thoughts wondered to those who would be in attendance many of whom I last saw almost twenty years ago before moving away from this fair city. I wondered if Kurt’s sister, Cheryl and I would recognize each other. Of course, as I thought of relatives, friends, and acquaintances I had not seen in many years, Brandon certainly came to mind. I tried to imagine how he would look after so much time just as I did with others. With no unusual attention to my thoughts of him and no noteworthy feelings, I imagined seeing him again and merely speaking with him briefly would be one pleasant event during an otherwise sad occasion. The level of my emotions astounded me as I became overwhelmed by the sound of his voice. I thought I would lose my mind.After the family filed into the sanctuary, Brandon stood and glanced over the crowd but did not speak and I filled with warm, fond thoughts. To me, he looked basically the same as he had many years ago. His hairline recedes minimally and he now wears glasses but he appeared to be the same boyishly handsome person I met shortly after my thirteenth birthday. He stood only a moment before taking his seat. The music continued and I focused on those who took part in the program. Brandon stood again and took his place behind the pulpit. He leaned toward the mike and uttered some phrase I can no longer recall in the beautiful baritone voice; a sound I forgot long ago. My heart began to pound and my face became so flushed I feared I would faint. I experienced shock, confusion, embarrassment, and guilt.
I'm attending my cousin's funeral and feeling God only knows what for a man I last saw years ago. I ran into and spoke with Brandon a number of times after we broke up so long ago but never experienced this kind of emotion. Over the years when I think about the different people I've been involved with and wonder, if I missed "the one" I never considered Brandon. Why at this particular time did I have this uncontrollable reaction to the mere sound of his voice?
I became so uncomfortable that if I were not a member of the family and if the church had not been massive; I would have walked out of the sanctuary to regain my composure. I have never been so shocked and confused in my entire life. I sat with my head down in an attempt to avoid looking at the pastor while being unable to escape the sound of his voice. Thankfully, after only a moment, he took his seat.
I sat with the family, bombarded with missiles of emotions. On one hand, the tributes to my cousin warmed my heart and made me aware there had been a void in my life because I barely knew Kurt as an adult. Hearing of his entrepreneurship and the work he did for the Lord impressed me and it relieved me to know he developed a sense of peace with the knowledge of his imminent demise and, in fact, he attempted to prepare his loved ones for life without him.
On the other hand, I became painfully aware of my pounding heart and the apparent increase in my temperature The confusion seemed to be almost more than I could handle. I used every available effort to focus on the service but could not stop wondering about the source of this odd and unexpected reaction.
When Brandon began to give the eulogy, I again experienced a sensation of being totally overcome. The combination of emotions seemed almost too intense to endure. His voice in conjunction with the words he used regarding my relative were moving. The concepts used to describe my cousin showed such sincere admiration I once again became saddened by a deep sense of loss. However, he managed to keep his words of comfort upbeat and encouraging. Brandon is a very effective speaker. He even enabled the congregation, including the family, to chuckle. One of the things I will always remember and admire about Brandon Kincaid is if you spend more than three minutes in his presence, you will laugh. It may be through your tears but you will laugh.
Vickie told me later Kurt planned his own funeral. He took care of all details leaving only the content of the message and tributes for others to complete. His one major request was for the service to be positive. Vickie said Kurt told her, "Keep the people calm, Vickie. Don't let them get out of hand. Keep everyone calm and light." I'm sure he gave these instructions to Rev. Kincaid as well. I must say Brandon followed directions well. At the end of his eulogy, he stated, "We've sung Kurt's favorite songs and we've read his favorite scriptures..." his voice trailed and his facial expression showed his search for something else to do for Kurt. With nothing left to do, Brandon's demeanor betrayed the spirit he set for the service. His shoulders drooped and his mouth turned downward. He slowly left the pulpit and approached the casket. He touched Kurt's body and for only one second it appeared after uplifting everyone else, he would lose control. He quickly regained his composure and took his place with the elders of the church to greet the people. He flashed his beautiful smile as he shook hands with each person.
Kurt had been one of the ministers in the church and held the position of Director of the Ministry for Men. Because Kurt was born and raised in Omaha and was well known and admired by people from all walks of life, several hundred people attended the service and each one filed past the body while the family waited to view him last. I did not think I could continue to sit with my heart pounding and my thoughts racing. Yet, there was no choice. There had been no opportunity for me to view Kurt's body before the service and I was not sure of the condition to be witnessed when my turn came to see my cousin for the last time. Also, I did not know how I would react when I was face to face with my childhood sweetheart. I could feel myself becoming more anxious with each passing second. Finally, the usher beckoned the family to leave the pew, view the body and greet the pastor and elders. I was relieved to see Kurt looked as I remembered him. His appearance was handsome and peaceful. Now it was time to approach Brandon. As I walked toward him, he began to extend his hand. I ignored the gesture and opened my arms. We embraced and he spoke into my ear, I haven't seen you in soooooo long." When we released each other I did not greet the elders; I forgot about them standing there with outstretched hands.
My cousin's death was unexpected to me and the effect of his home going service was even more surprising. I left the cemetery thinking I had experienced a life-changing event. On one hand, I felt foolish as I stood at the open grave and listened to Brandon repeat the works commonly used at the burial site. I beheld my surviving cousins and realized we know little of each other. I didn't realize Kurt and his brother were both married. Nor did I know his sister, Cheryl, was divorced. We are the offspring of two sisters and yet we live as distantly as strangers.
Of course, there were reasons for the lack of communication between us. However, as I gazed upon the casket that would forever hold my cousin's remains, I was confronted with reality. In the scheme of things, our differences are insignificant. In life, God must be the most important. Alliance with family members must be second only to that supreme relationship. I accepted partial responsibility for the distance my cousins and I experienced and vowed to make every attempt to develop a strong connection with these relatives of mine. Surely, this would be an attainable goal.
On the other hand, I remained puzzled by my strange reaction to being in Brandon's presence. What was the meaning of this emotional maze? Was I about to discover some startling revelation about him or myself or both of us? Or was this only the unconscious fantasy of a lonely, aging woman suddenly confronted with "what could have been?"
© Ingrid Brown 2005
