The memorial service for Brook Wilson

 

                  The Memorial Service for

Brooke Ann Wilson

(Feb. 20, 1976-Sept 20, 2025)

Bethlehem Lutheran Church

Fargo, ND

 

+ For those of you who might not know me, I have known Ann and her family for over 25 years.

In those 25 years, I have become very close with this family.

Ann is like a sister to me.

Her sons are like nephews to me.

And Brooke was like a niece to me.

I didn’t know Brooke as well as I did the rest of her family.

By the time I got to know her family, she was married and was living in Kentucky.

But every time I saw her, we were family to each other.

In fact, the last time she was in Fargo, she wanted to get together for lunch.

And I have thought a lot about that last lunch at the Tavern in these last few weeks.

How I never in a million years would’ve thought that would be the last time I would ever see Brooke.

And how sobering and shocking that realization is to me.

So, I’m just going to say it:

I will say it bluntly.

I will say it honestly.

I don’t want to be here.

I don’t want to be here today doing this.

None of us do.

We shouldn’t be here today.

We shouldn’t be here on this Saturday morning, gathered together in this church, saying goodbye to Brooke of all people.

In these days since we all heard the news, Ann and I talked quite a bit.

And one of the things I kept repeating over and over again is, “this is so unreal.”

It’s SO unreal.

THIS is unreal.

I don’t understand any of this.

 I know people expect Priests and Pastors to have some kind of answer to things like this.

But the fact is: we oftentimes don’t.

And today, and over these last few weeks, I can definitely say I don’t have anything close to an answer.

I don’t know why this happened.

Why Brooke of all people was taken so quickly.

I will never understand.

At least on this side of the veil.

But I’ll say what you all have been saying no doubt...

….there should’ve been more.

There was so much life ahead of her.

In addition to all the other feelings I have been feeling—shock, disbelief, gut-wrenching pain, I am also feeling a weird kind of anger.

Not at God or at any thing in particular.

Just a general anger.

Anger at death.

Anger at this situation.

Anger at the unfairness of this all.

And it is unfair.

This should not have happened to someone like Brooke.

Not yet.

Not this soon.

This should not have happened to Brooke or to her children or to her parents or to her brothers or to all Brooke’s family and friends.

And that makes me very angry!

I’m really angry that there wasn’t more time.

I’m angry that it’s  so unfair.

And we could leave just it there.

We could just be angry and frustrated and helpless.

But, we—those of who have faith, who believe there is more to this life and this world—we don’t just get to leave it there.

For those of us who have faith—for us, even in the face of this gut-wrenching pain we feel today, even in the face of our frustration and anger and sadness, we know…

…we know that this goodbye today is only a temporary goodbye.

We believe in a God of love.

We believe in a God who knows us and loves and who only wants the very best for us.

And because we believe in that God, we know that this—all of this—is not the end of the story.

 All that we knew and loved about Brooke is not gone for good.

It is not ashes.

Is not grief.

It is not loss.

Everything that Brooke was to those who knew her and loved her and who are now left to her miss her is not lost forever.

All we loved, all that was good and gracious in Brooke—all that was fierce and strong and amazing and beautiful and kind in her—is not lost.

It lives on.

It lives on with all of you who experienced that kindness and generosity and love from Brooke in this life.

And for those of us who have faith, faith in more than this world, we know that somehow, it will all be made right.

I don’t claim to know how.

I don’t claim to know for certain what awaits us in the next world.

But I do believe that all that is good and gracious and loving in Brooke now dwells in a place of light and beauty and life unending.

And I do believe beyond a shadow of a doubt that you will see her again.

And on that day every tear will truly be wiped from our faces.

And there will be no more tears.

And it will be beautiful.

We will all miss her so much.

And that’s all right.

This is the price we pay for love.

The more we love, the more pain we will feel when the one we love dies.

But today, even amidst of our sadness and loss and pain and shock, we take comfort in the fact that her strength, her dignity, her beauty  lives on in her children and in her parents and in her brothers and in all of who knew her and loved her.

And we can even, in our sadness and loss, rejoice, this morning.

We can rejoice in the fact that she is there in that place of light and beauty and unending life in this moment.

Still, that doesn’t make it any easier for those of us who are left behind left behind.

For those of us who cling to our faith, we know that our faith truly can and does sustain us in these moments.

Our faith is a faith that promises us, despite our frustration and sadness and anger and pain, somehow, in some amazing way, it all does work out in the end.

 

It is a faith that promises us that although we can’t fully understand things now, we will one day.

 

And that when we do, it will be beautiful.

 

So, today, although we might be tempted to give into our sadness, we really cannot.

 

Yes, we are sad and overcome with sorrow for this temporary separation.

 

But we are not despairing.

 

Because we know that it will all be well.

 

It will all be well.

 

Death has not swallowed that up.

I will miss Brooke.

We will all miss her and will feel her loss for a long time to come.

But, on this day in which we bid her this temporary goodbye, let us also be thankful.

Let us be thankful that God has been gracious to let us know her and to love her.

Let us be thankful for all she was to us—a caring and loving presence in our lives.

Let us be thankful that even in these moments, we can still cling to hope and know that we will not, in the end, be defeated.

 

And, most of all,  let us be grateful for all that love and the care Brooke has given us in our own lives.

Let us cling to that love, and hold it close to us—now and always.

Into paradise may the angels lead you, Brooke.

At your coming may the martyrs receive you, and bring you into the holy city Jerusalem.

Amen.