Happy Birthday

Birthdays were always really special for Brandi. I remember the unique birthday song she'd sing, "Happy birthday, birthday, birthday...." If she wasn't going to see you that day, you'd get a voicemail with that song on it.

One year, she gave me a ride to work on the back of her motorcycle yelling almost the entire way, "make way, I got the birthday girl on board. Outta the way, special birthday package delivery..."
She was the best when it came to birthdays. And if any birthday gifts had a bow on them, you better put them on your head when you were unwrapping them.

Happy Birthday Brandi. I wish I could sing you that birthday song today.

From Mistie

Brandi was one of the most honest people I know. She was true. I’m sure we’ve all had Brandi conversations. Her honesty and pursuit of the root made the hours melt away and suddenly it’s last call. One more whisky for the road. Then perhaps back to the place to continue till the sun shuffled us off to bed. I relished the one-on-one talks with B. Here we are in the middle of a long Antarctic night, with no sun to announce a close to proceedings. Intense. ~Mistie

Strength of Spirit (A Reflection by Kendall)

Underlying the grief, there is an overwhelming feeling of gratitude. I was lucky enough to be considered one of Brandi’s “peeps” for twelve wonderful years. We met in 1996, as co-workers at Borders Books in downtown Seattle. There was a bond, almost instant. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it at that early stage, but I knew she was unlike anyone else I’d ever known, and I was pretty sure she was going to be an important part of my life. Years later, she told me that she felt we were kindred spirits. I could not have been more honored.

I moved away from Seattle for a few years, and because of my atrocious correspondence habits, it’s a small miracle that we managed to stay in contact while I was away. I must attribute that almost entirely to Brandi’s persistence. I was fairly astonished to receive hand-written letters from her, and it dawned upon me that once she had established a connection with someone, she was not likely to let it slip away. If you meant something to Brandi, she made sure you knew it. “You’re stuck with me,” she once said to me, and I was elated.


On the eve of Brandi’s departure for yet another stint on “the ice” (Antarctica), I asked her why she was going. Again. She didn’t seem too interested in coming up with a list of reasons. Reflecting on it later, it struck me that “why?” was not amongst B’s favorite questions. There had been other occasions on which I had posed it, and it had almost always been met with a half-hearted attempt, at best, to satisfy my request for a logical explanation. And it occurred to me that it really wasn’t a very important, or even interesting, question. Brandi provided me with so many insights, simply by being herself. She did what she was called to do; the strength of her spirit impelled her as she moved through this world, and it was beautiful to behold.

Goodbye, dear friend.

more pics from kendall

Pictures taken at a goodbye gathering at Six Arms in Seattle, just as B was about to move to Maine.

Thanks for sharing, Kendall!

Brandi and Mary ... the biker grandmas. (a memory from Mary)

I met Brandi shortly after I had moved to Seattle. I had very few friends, was getting over a recent heartbreak, and was in need of a good friend. Brandi and Katie came to Hours Eyes on Broadway, where I worked as an Optician. Brandi needed new glasses and so we worked together for quite a little while; chatting while we tried different styles. I remember she was quite particular about not only the appearance, but also the strength of the temples (the arms of the glasses). She explained that she rode a motorcycle and would repeatedly be putting pressure on the glasses. As soon as I shared the fact that I had a motorcycle as well, and understood her concern, we were instant buddies. We set up a day and time to have our very first (with many more to come) bike rides together.

Brandi and I were not the typical biker chicks- we called ourselves "grandmas" because we were uncharacteristically careful while we rode. Some of our friends enjoyed the risk of being on 2 wheels-and we did share the desire to be rebels-but we more appreciated the "oneness" of being on the open road without the visual limitations of a car. You don't realize how much you miss in the confines of a car until you sit in a saddle of a motorcycle. I am hoping that pictures of us with Dykes on Bikes at Seattle gay pride will surface in some of my boxes. Such great memories.

Over the years, our lives took us different places. I remember when Brandi left Seattle and how empty I felt when she had gone. Seattle wasn't the same without her and I left shortly after as well. She was in Portland, Maine and I was in Lewes, Delaware but we still managed to see each other quite regularly, whether it was me driving up to Portland, or her flying to see me in Delaware, or meeting in the Big Apple for some play time. We saw each other more than I saw my own family, and I'm even pretty close with my family. Brandi visited me in each and every apartment that I lived in since she knew me, and I can't even say that for my family. She was my family.

I know all of us wish we had the chance to say good-bye. I am struggling with this because we had not spoken in nearly 2 years. We would reconnect someday, but now it is too late for this lifetime. I pictured us as little old ladies on the porch of some old house, enjoying our memories together over lemonade, or maybe Bushmills. You will always be in my heart, Brandi, and you never left.