They say "you don't know what you've got until it's gone."  I don't say this to draw attention to our loss - but to highlight what Barret had.  Long before he left, my brother knew he enjoyed the most loving and caring and concerned family anyone could hope for.  Beyond that, his network of friends across the country was a source of joy to him absolutely essential to helping him hold on during the toughest times.

I know it was difficult for many here who wanted to see Barret and support him when he was most ill - he seemed to have his own TSA screening system and very few were allowed in if he had any say.  I believe that his desire to stay closed off is a reflection of his deep love and appreciation for those who loved him.  Knowing how much it might hurt those people to see him hurting, he did what he could to prevent others from sharing his struggle.  While that frustrated us, it was a decision characteristic of Barret's life.  He did things HIS way, and others just had to accept that.

Examples of this include his penchant for stealing the spotlight in photographs.  At the time it could be annoying, but now of course entirely endearing, a demonstration of his desire to make an impression and leave his mark on the moment.  Few people I know were ever as sharp or as mercilessly funny as my brother, nor could anybody make a better ham of his or herself on camera.  Maybe that's what attracted Barret to Goiter, his pot-bellied pig, in the first place (Still stalking the backyard and fishing for treats no doubt).

To conclude, I'll share something that I've realized throughout the process of Barret's life, illness, and passing.  He is NOT separate from each of us.  He is a part of us just as we are a part of him.  He knew that his pain was our pain, so let's turn it around and let our joy be his joy, and our life be his life.  As we are present, Barret is present - with love uniting us all along the way. - RBL 2010