Webb: A letter to Brenda Keller on what would have been her 41st birthday

Hey, Brenda. 

It’s probably a little odd getting a note from me. After all, I didn’t know you. But I’ve written my dad several times since he died in August, and I know he reads them. I figure you’ll read this, too.

You would have celebrated your 41st birthday today. That seems hard to believe. I know this is a difficult day for many people in your life, but I think it says a lot about who you were and how you impacted the people around you that so many honor your memory more than 28 years after you moved on to the next life.

Truth be told, I’ve been thinking about writing you for a while. It makes sense. After all, I stopped by to visit you at least once every year for 20 years until I realized we’re connected because I need to write about your life.

I started thinking about this letter not long after my father passed away. One of the last things he said to me was, “Son, I want you to finish this book about Brenda. It’s a story that needs to be told, and you’re the one to write it.”

Dad started to decline last spring, and the summer months were a blur of bad days, some moments I’ll always be grateful for and weeks sitting by the old man’s bed. That left no time to work on the book. 

On Aug. 19, two weeks after Dad joined you in Heaven, I texted your mom to let her know he had died and that I was sorry she and your dad hadn’t heard from me in a while. In that message, I told your mom I planned to start working on the book again. It was important to Dad, and it’s been important to me for a while now.

Always kind and thoughtful, much like you were, your mom responded that she’d been thinking about my father and I at the end of July and August. I think that illustrates how tuned in your mother is … I hadn’t spoken to her since April, yet she sensed what was going on.

You mother’s text included a line that brought tears of sadness and joy: “Perhaps your dad has not only met Jesus, but also Brenda.”

I hadn’t thought about that, but it was a warm, even joyous thought. It’s a moment I think of any time I hit a snag in research, which has happened many times. At the same time, I can’t help but notice that every time I do hit a road block, something good happens: A phone call from someone I need to interview, an email from another source, finally tracking down a phone number.

I typically do not write down resolutions for a new year. I find them cliche and arbitrary. But I did jot down several goals this year, including working on the book about your life, what happened to you and the impact you had on so many, for at least an hour every day of 2020.

We’re 10 weeks into the year, and I’ve only taken a break on two days. During the past two months, I’ve made significant progress. There’s still a ton of work to be done before I even start writing. As long as I feel like you and Dad are hanging out, I can’t possibly stop working.

Happy birthday, my friend.