Closing Chapters...

So many important chapters in my and Brandon's life are closing right now. UVU's MBA graduation was beyond beautiful. The moving tribute to Brandon was the culmination of a powerful, encouraging graduation ceremony, in which so many important friends of mine and Brandon's were involved. Then, as the graduates left the hall, with Iz's "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" playing as a tribute to my dear husband, it struck me that the UVU MBA program was over.

Brandon would have graduated. I keep feeling like I should say that he did graduate. That's how meaningful that commencement was for me. He and I decided on grad school, together. He and I prayed for strength to get there and endure once there, together. He and I sacrificed so he could stay as long as he did, together. To me, his death didn't seem to actually interrupt his involvement in that program hardly at all. And the MBA cohort that had already become family to us in the first stretch of the program only became all the more so in the wake of Brandon's death. These young people are exemplary friends, driven people, and will be tremendous forces for good and for growth as they move forward applying the education they received at UVU, and in each other. They will succeed, not because they are "destined" for greatness, but because they worked for it and continue to do so. I know that if I, who had more of an observer's perspective throughout the program, feel so much pride and love for this group of graduates, my husband, Brandon, must be absolutely thrilled and beaming with joy on behalf of his friends - brothers and sisters, really - at UVU. So as they walked away, I couldn't help but be sad that the stories were done being written. No more would I hear about their projects, conversations (both silly and serious), or assignments that seemed to plague them during the stress of the program, but now were already on their way to becoming memories to smile about. No more group meetings. No more case studies. No more seeing so-and-so and so-and-so, just around campus when I would go to visit. Even though Brandon died early in the program, his friends and mine kept me abreast of so many of the different goings-on in the cohort, and I could not be more grateful for that.

And while I am so sad that this UVU MBA cohort chapter of our lives - of Brandon and my life - is ending, I am thrilled for each participant's success. I am beyond eager to hear from each of Brandon's dear teammates and other friends, as they go forward in their lives and careers. This group, this MBA cohort, shares an amazing bond, almost palpable in its impact. And certainly powerful in effect. The day after the graduation, I (I still want to say "we") hosted a farewell/see-you-later/graduation potluck party at a park near our home. (We are moving from Utah.) Many of the MBA group came to participate, along with many friends from former homes, former missions, growing up years, recent ventures, and everything inbetween. It was a fun, perfect way to bid adieu. Food, friends, family, fun. And again, I had the strong sense that this chapter - the Utah chapter - of life was closing too. Not that we could not open it and re-read it as often as we wanted, but that it too was done being written. And what a chapter! I will forever be grateful that Brandon felt strongly about moving to Utah. That we felt strongly about starting our family sooner than planned. That we were called to serve in positions at church that allowed us to truly serve, love, and come to know people who are now as close to us as family. That we explored, loved, sacrificed, tried, failed, succeeded, tried some more, and enjoyed life here together in so many ways. We lived so much in the last 6 years! It seems like so much longer than that. Moving forward, I can't imagine a more jam-packed set of years. And yet, I can't imagine anything different. Brandon made it clear to the kids and me before he died that we were his number one priority, and he has remained consistent in that message even beyond death. I know that the future is not what he or I originally planned, but I also know that it will be better, somehow. Not at all because he's gone, but because he's not gone. Because even though death should have trampled out hope and should have crushed him, me, and the kids entirely, it didn't. Even if I should give in to the hurt and pain and torturous loneliness of life in Brandon's physical absence, I can't. I just, simply can not. There is too much hope and light and good showering upon us every day. The love, the blessings, the tender mercies of the Lord and of good, kind people - they make it impossible to give in to despair!

Brandon and I will be together forever. But more important to me at this moment of mortal weakness and trial, Brandon and I are still together now. Don't get me wrong, there is tremendous comfort in knowing that families exist as sealed units in the great beyond, but while continuing my sojourn in the not-so-great not-so-beyond, I find maybe even more comfort in knowing that he is still part of my life and the kids' life now, even before we are all on that side. Because, really, through God's perspective, Brandon and I are still in perfectly clear view to Him and never leave it. Any partition, separation, or veil that we feel separates us only affects our sight.

For that matter, any part of our life that we see as beginning or ending, to God, is just part of an eternal round. In His sight, beginnings are ends and ends are beginnings, and I do not believe that He distinguishes between them.

So while I finish up the many sections written in our chapter in Utah, I open a new volume that, really, is just a continuation of the others. But better. I really like this book of life. It'll make you life, make you cry - but if nothing else, it will keep you reading.

So I will keep on writing.