Cacography...

Well, it's about time a started adding to this blog. This past weekend, I travelled back to Tulsa, OK to say goodbye to my friend Brett Rozell. The following is what I said at his service:

Thank you all for being here today to help us remember our friend Brett Rozell.

Brett and I became friends while walking the halls of this school and sitting in this chapel every morning. He came to Cascia not knowing anyone when he arrived. But by the time he left there were very few who did not know he was. I think it would be safe to say that Brett’s happiest moments in life took place within the confines of this school.

It was this place that brought us all together.
It was this place that forged our friendships. It was this place that helped prepared us for the larger world. And so it seems fitting, to me at least, that we should gather here again in order to say goodbye to our lost friend.


If you will indulge me, I would like to read a letter to you that I wrote to Brett’s family after hearing of his passing. I don’t mind telling you that it was a difficult letter to write. The next few moments will tell whether or not it proves to be more difficult to read.


To Jack and Margaret:


It's been a few weeks since I heard the news of Brett's passing and my waking days are still spent mentally jumping back and forth between my everyday obligations and my reflections on the time I spent with your son.

My mind keeps churning out questions about his death and mercifully, happy memories of our youth. I feel both guilty and fortunate not to have witnessed Brett's demise. After hearing some of the stories about Brett's recent past, I know that my involvement would have mattered little and yet I would jump at the opportunity to have been there in order to try.

I mourn the loss of my friend, but I grieve for you and your families. You were there when he needed it most. You opened yourself to the disease that became Brett's life and even still, it was not enough. I grieve for you because your love for him in life will be matched only by the despair you experience from his death.

Even though I hadn't seen Brett as much as would've liked of late, I still consider Brett to be one of my best friends. The days we spent together in our youth are what define me as a man today. Through it all, Brett was by my side. There are countless memories I can conjure of the two of us together. The hours we spent at Grand Lake are the most strong.

I remember all of the "hook-ups" and all of the "break-ups". I remember my sister telling us that she would marry Brett when she turned eighteen. I remember even clearer how sweet Brett was to her in return. My parents had only five sons, but Karen had 6 brothers. To call Brett an honorary member of my family would be too much of a qualification. There was nothing honorary about it. Needless to say, Brett's passing has touched us all.

I always felt that my friendship with Brett would endure. Since college we spoke less and less frequent. But when we did talk, the funniest thing would happen. We would pick up as if no time had passed since our last conversation. The topics were usually the same: work, girls and family. But the conversations where always natural and heartfelt. He was a good friend and I valued his opinion on all that was happening in my life. I am saddest that he wasn't able to meet my wife and daughter.

The kind of friendship we had allows me the privilege of speaking on his behalf to you now. I know that more than anything else; Brett would like to thank you. You did everything a parent should do for their child. Love, attention, money, values, understanding: these were showered on Brett in abundance by his family. Brett's death is not your failing. Some things are just beyond our control. Instead your love for him in life and death is a testament to your humanity. I know you will not feel his loss any less severely because of this, but that truth should be recognized.

I worry that you will only be able to recall the most recent parts of Brett's life. I am fortunate in that way to have not had to experience the worst of Brett's disease. Perhaps my role then is to remind you of what you cannot remember right now.

I remember that tall and hopelessly skinny blond kid whom words never failed. I remember meeting him in ninth grade and instantly liking him. By tenth grade we were inseparable. I remember seeing in Brett all of the qualities I had trouble seeing in myself. He was confident, funny, and could talk to people with such ease. If there were a particular girl I was too shy to talk with, Brett would simply walk over and have her mesmerized in less than 5 minutes. I always envied him for that ability. High school is mostly about being cool. And when Brett entered a room, everyone knew he was there. Fortunately for me, Brett let me play "Robin" to his "Batman" for the better part of that awkward time.

I remember the "3-point" specialist who was never afraid to take a shot. Brett was so good on the court that when he was "on", it would rain treys. I loved watching him play. Brett was a fiery competitor and it sprang from his love of it. He just seemed happiest on the court (despite whoever was coaching). Most of all, I loved how big his dreams were. For Brett it was just a few small steps from playing basketball for Cascia to a JUCO to OU to the NBA.


I remember all of the "bad times" from then too: wrecking the jeep, the cops busting us for trenching someone's yard, and some things you will likely never hear of. Despite all of the tears and worries at the time, those memories are now what define my childhood. Our relationship seemed to deepen despite the mischief (or maybe because of it). In the spirit of honesty, I should probably note that Brett took more than his fair share of the blame for the havoc we caused. Brett's loyalty to me was unwavering and I never questioned it.

Perhaps most importantly, I remember how welcome I was in your home. It was obvious how much Brian and Brett were loved. As an outsider it was a very welcoming atmosphere. Do you remember all of the exploding Dr. Pepper bottles? I hadn't thought about that in years. I am still not sure that one of you wasn't pulling my leg. And now that memory is as buoyant as any. A trip to the convenience store stirs up memories of sitting in your family room watching movies, eating popcorn and most importantly, feeling safe.

I know there are no words for what you are going through. I am still in such shock that it's taken me weeks to finish this letter. I keep hoping that it was just a dream. I am trying to remind myself of all the good times we had together and remember that Brett is now at peace. I know that I will see him again someday, but I will miss him everyday until that day comes.

Please know that I was honored to call your son my friend.

Brett’s Friend,

Matt Kitchin

Unfortunately I have yet to wake up from that dream. The tragedy that became his life and led to his death is all too real. But as I tried to focus on in the letter I just read, there was much more to Brett than his battle with drugs and mental illness. I was perhaps most impressed by Brett’s achievements after high school. I have to admit that I was amazed when he started studying biology. Brett seemed to have found his calling in life. He would tell me about his work on the “human genome project” and I could hardly believe it. In high school, I never would have predicted Brett becoming a scientist. I could barely understand all of the things that he was talking about, but I knew that he was happy. He had found a way to contribute to society in a meaningful way. What he was doing was important and he knew it.


When I was talking to Brett’s father Jack two weeks ago, he told me that he would find some measure of peace if he knew that Brett’s death was the impetus that saved someone else from making the same mistake.

And as I come to grips with his passing and I try and find the meaning it, I keep coming back to the same thing. Brett’s life is a cautionary tale for all of us. Jack, his name will be heard around my house a lot as my children grow older. I will tell them about a life full of promise that was snuffed out by a few poor choices that in turn sent his life spiraling out of control. Jack, we will probably never know who was saved because of Brett’s example. But I choose to believe in a grand design where all our lives are interconnected. Because of that I can view Brett’s life as a legacy of hope. Hope that others will be able to avoid the pitfalls of life because someone before them has marked the trail.

My children will also learn about the importance of friendship, loyalty and integrity. They will know that Brett offered me those things; his only expectation was that they be returned in kind.

If we choose, our memories of Brett can be overshadowed by the way in which his life ended. I, however, choose to remember the boy who walked among us in the hallways of this school; the friend who comforted me when things went badly and who celebrated when I succeeded. I choose to remember the man who chose a career dedicated to the advancement of human knowledge. I choose to remember my friend.


Brett, rest in peace and watch out for us from above. I look forward to the day when we can talk again.