Brandon

I have three biological grandchildren and four “bonus” grandchildren through my wife, seven bright points of light in our lives. Of them all, only one lives nearby—Brandon—and his nearness has allowed our bond to grow into something deep and lasting. I have known him since the day he was born and have watched him grow into a fine young man in his early thirties, steady, kind, and quietly confident.

Although people might call him a “bonus” grandchild, I’ve learned that love does not recognize those labels. The heart doesn’t sort by bloodlines; it simply knows who belongs. Brandon’s place in our family is as real and as precious as that of any biological grandchild, and the happiness he brings us is proof that family is as much chosen as it is inherited.

Brandon stands about 5’9” and weighs around 170 pounds, with the easy strength of someone who spends his days in motion, teaching others how to play tennis. His dark hair, brown eyes, and usually sun-kissed skin give him a lively, outdoorsy look, but it’s his inner light people notice first. He has a rare gift—likely inherited from his father—for meaningful conversation. Whether he is speaking with a stranger or an old friend, he listens closely, responds thoughtfully, and leaves people feeling understood.

He is unfailingly attentive to his grandmother and to me. When we need help, he is there without hesitation, never making a show of it, just quietly doing what needs to be done. Now and then, he and his mother join us for dinner in the campus dining room, and those evenings feel special in a way that goes beyond the food or the setting. We share stories, laughter, and the kind of simple, comfortable moments that linger in memory long after the plates are cleared. We see them on birthdays and holidays as well—those calendar markers that, over time, weave a life together.

If I had to choose one quality of Brandon’s that I cherish most, it would be his attitude toward life. I have watched him in competition since he was young, always composed, always thinking, never letting frustration take control. While others might flare up in excitement or anger, Brandon remains calm, planning his next move, trusting in patience and preparation. That same steady approach shows up in conversation, too. Sitting with him, you can count on an exchange that is not only pleasant, but often insightful. He treats everyone with respect, and he is quick to offer a hand when someone needs support.

I would never call Brandon just a friend; that word feels far too small. He is my grandson in every way that matters, and the love between us sits a few notches above friendship, in a place reserved for family of the heart. When my time comes to leave this world, I don’t imagine that moment without him there. I picture him in the room, steady as ever, a quiet presence at my side, just as he has been in so many of the moments that have made my later years rich with meaning.