Every year in September, my sister-in-law honors my late brother, by volunteering at Gleaners Food Bank in Indianapolis, where he and many of his Southwest Airlines coworkers would gather “to be a leader in the fight against hunger.” I just returned from there last Sunday night and couldn’t help but sit at my laptop to capture my trip in writing.

I invite you to travel with me through “Life After Death”…

O Brother

September 14, 2018, Kevin Michael Kerr unexpectedly passed away from complications of an undetected heart disease.

He was here. And then he wasn’t. 

I didn’t understand the depth of my brother’s life until my brother’s life was gone. Kevin had been adopted as a newborn. His “once upon a time” was rough, even after being welcomed into a new family, as his adopted mother lived in the dark complicated and confusing world of mental illness. As much as her mother’s heart loved, her mixed up mind would not allow for healthy interactions with a child. She eventually was admitted to a mental hospital, as was typical in the ‘70s, and died in the mid ‘90s. Cause of death, schizophrenia. 

Needless to say, Kevin’s earliest years were difficult. His dad, which eventually was my adopted dad as well, worked for Trans World Airlines as an airplane mechanic while single-handedly trying to parent his young son. My mother came into their story after my biological father was arrested for child abuse of my siblings and me. I never saw my bio father again.

My mom’s path crossed with Kevin’s adopted dad’s and, very short story, she began babysitting Kevin. What’s one more child when you already have four? And from there, my mom and Kevin’s adopted dad eventually married. And Kevin’s adopted dad adopted my siblings and me, and my mom adopted Kevin. In the fourth grade, I returned to school after summer break with a new last name, Kerr.

O Brother

If you’re still with me, this is why my brother’s heart disease went undetected, as he did not know his biological family’s medical history. And this is why I didn’t understand the depth of my brother’s life until my brother’s life had ended. I had only known that my brother was adopted and that his adopted mother struggled with mental illness. There was no way I could have grasped the ramifications of this until later in life. It had to have been difficult for a young father with son and a young mother with four children—all a bit rough around the edges as my country peeps would say, joining together to make a go of it, as ours was a bit more complicated and chaotic than the Brady Bunch’s union. Back then, folks did not look back at back then. They moved on. Not talking about the past was somehow supposed to get past the past. It didn’t.

O Brother

Regardless, my family still mustered many meaningful and happy days to power us along through the undercurrent. Kevin and I had started to connect at a more genuine level at midlife, several years before his passing. I have many fond memories of my brother. I’ll share just three:

• Once after one of my high school basketball games my stomach was really hurting so I went directly to my room and laid down. Kevin came in and comforted me with caring words. His “witnessing” of me spoke volumes.
• Another time he attended one of my high school track meets, the only time anyone in my family attended.
• And a third profound memory of my brother happened when he said two simple words, “Thank you.” These kind words superseded the criticism I had felt from others during a family luncheon.

We often hear that death sheds light on life. O brother, thank you for your life as it continues to impact mine in a positive way. It was my honor last weekend to serve beside your wife of 35 years, your beautiful daughter, and two of your devoted friends. Every year there’s a different mix of folks who gather at Gleaners in your memory. And every year they smile, laugh, and cry. 

Thank you for still shedding your light.

O brother, you are still here. 

Water Salute

My trip to Indianapolis started off as most interesting when the pilot who flew to Orlando with my departure plane, officially retired after that flight. Southwest made a big to do about it with a water salute, spraying the plane as it pulled into my gate. And when the pilot entered the airport, everyone clapped and gave a standing ovation. 

This beautiful act of honor reminded me of my brother, as Southwest also so beautifully honored my brother in 2018 with water salutes when they flew him in his casket from Indianapolis to his final resting place in Kansas City, Missouri. Three of his Southwest co-workers stayed with the casket throughout my brother’s final journey, onto his funeral and burial. I didn’t get to see my brother’s water salutes in person, so to witness a similar act on my way to Indianapolis just totally made my day.

Mama Kelce

And speaking of Kansas City, it’s been fun for me to cheer on the Chiefs the past several years, watching them rise to Super Bowl stardom, and follow some of the stories of the players, Travis Kelce’s being front center, especially now with Taylor Swift by his side. I’m going to make a broad swoop of a statement here and say America loves the Kelces because they are America. Humble, funny, hardworking, grounded, even in their stardom. And Mama Kelce is the Kelce rock. So imagine my delight when she was on my flight from Orlando to my connecting flight of Kansas City. I only know because Southwest gave a spirited announcement like only Southwest can. Unfortunately, I never saw Mama Kelce. I sat in the back of the plane. But, just knowing she was on my flight, brought both delight and comfort. 

My connection in Kansas City was short, but another highlight, as they boast a new airport. This is significant for me because I remember when Kansas City’s old airport was built in 1972. My dad, the adopted one, who worked for Trans World Airlines, took Kevin, me, and my other siblings on a tour of it before it opened. As a child, I remember feeling very special. And I remember thinking it was so cool that the terminals were round. But time moves on. Out with the old and in with the new. I was thrilled to finally see Kansas City’s new airport, light and bright and open, definitely an improvement. 

Alarms

I quickly got to my gate and boarded my flight onto Indianapolis, which presented the final interesting piece of my journey north. When we arrived and I stepped off the jetway into the airport, I remember thinking, “It smells like something is burning.” Shortly thereafter, the fire alarm sounded, blue lights flashed, and repeated announcements over the intercom system said, “Please evacuate the airport immediately.” “Please evacuate the airport immediately.” 

What was more alarming though than the fire alarm, was all the people who were oblivious to any of this. Lost in their technology, in their own worlds, totally unaware. So bizarre, I thought. So so bizarre. What is going on that we are so unaware these days, that we don’t even know when we need to evacuate?

Sacred Heart

It felt so good to be with my sister-in-law and niece this past weekend. To reconnect memories, shake them off a bit, and polish them up with new understanding and bigger love. To sort through more of our pasts, stand more firm in our present, and reset for more possibilities. To look forward to new chapters with greater appreciation and anticipation. And to understand that as difficult as death is, if we can move past the abnormalities of hearts and embrace more sacred hearts, death can and will shed more light on life.

Thank you Kim and Kimsey for a beautiful weekend honoring Kevin.

_______________________

Be Momentous! 🌎

Go on a journey. It doesn’t have to be far. Bring your sacred heart. Be open to what unfolds.