A letter to Brad

I really miss you, my friend

A few weeks ago, Mariah’s father passed away. It’s been a difficult few weeks. It’s been a difficult year. About a week after Brad died, I wrote something to him and shared it on Instagram. A couple days ago, I thought, “some people aren’t on Instagram.” An epiphany.

So now I’m sharing my letter to Brad here, in the off chance you’re one of those people who aren’t on Instagram.

First, a few quick things:

1. Mariah and her brother Cole started a newsletter to honor the tradition of the motivational texts we received from Brad every Friday. They’re calling it Fridays with Brad. Read more about it (in their own words), and subscribe here!

2. I wrote something else about Brad in February. It offers a little more color on what he and the family have endured over the last year.

3. In my Instagram post, I included a bunch of texts that Brad and I sent each other over the years. They’re a snapshot of the kind of man he was. If you want to read them, just click below and scroll through the images in the post.

thetweedster

A post shared by @thetweedster

Here’s my letter to Brad…

~~

23 July 2024

Brad,

Some moments in life feel familiar. Those moments contain threads from the past, there for you to pull on to help make sense of the present. In this way, precedent becomes an anchor. It holds you in place and grounds you in the known, so you can more confidently swim through the waters of the unknowns to come. It is in those moments that familiarity makes things easier.

This is not one of those moments. This is unfamiliar, and there are so many unknowns. 

You were not my father, but I have never known grief like this. I can't imagine what Mariah and Cole are feeling. It is a profound loss to say goodbye to the person who has been there more than anyone, who dedicated his life to serving you. That is who you have been to Mariah and Cole. There was no one more important to you than your children. You lived out your belief in family as fully and truly as anyone could. Mariah and Cole are so lucky to call you Dad. 

You were not my father, but you sure acted like it. That was your greatest gift to me. You treated me with respect. You invested in my future. You had high expectations of me: to treat people well, to be kind and generous and honest; to move through the world as your own parents taught you to. You took me as a son, and I took you as a father. We were chosen family.

Brad took us to Mexico a couple years ago — look how happy ❤️

Brad, also in Mexico, had a lot to say about my fledgling tennis game

So I sit here, several days after your passing, unsure of what to do, but so grateful for all the time we had. Thank you, Brad, for the last year of your life. You fought so hard to stay. As your mother told you during your surgery, you had more work to do. I believe I was one of the main beneficiaries of your choice to come back. There was no one I spent more time with over the last year than I did with you and Mariah. What a gift. Our relationship deepened profoundly, and you taught me so much.

Thank you for teaching me how to love Mariah. Thank you for showing me what protecting your family looks like, not by shielding them, but by letting them in. Thank you for trusting me to be there with you, to hold your hand and feel your face — to share those last few moments your body spent in your home.

I know that you want nothing in return for all that you have given me. "Dude. We're family." So I won't pay you back. Instead, I'll do my best to love as hard as you did, to feel as deeply as you did, to explore as widely as you did, to play as joyfully as you did, and to protect my family as steadfastly as you did.

And I don't say any of that lightly. I won't pretend to have the answers for how to live like you. I promise I'll try my best to figure it out — but today, I do not know. Finding those answers is a challenge for another day, and I know I'm not alone in grappling with that question. For now, though, we must trust our grief.

There was nothing Brad loved in this world more than being a grandpa to our little Ms. Georgia

I am but one of many people to call you a friend. You loved so generously, and you were a man of many words — anyone who has ever received a text from you knows what I mean. You were powerful down here, spreading all that love and positivity through that beaming smile of yours. But you're even more powerful up there. You've been busy. It's never been more obvious to me what survives beyond our bodies.

I would say I hope you're resting easy, but let's be real. Brad Driver isn't kicking back. You're hard at work taking care of your tribe. You've got all these new tools at your disposal. You're hustling, you're energized, and you know you can make a difference.

To anyone reading this, here's what I think he wants you to know: If you look for Brad, you'll find him. In the mountains, in the ocean, on the road, and in the candy drawer. On the tennis court, too, but you already knew that. Go look for him — he's waiting.

Thank you for protecting us down here, up there, and everywhere in between. I love you so much, Brad. Give Callie a big squeeze for us, and we'll see you again real soon.

Drew

Reunited ❤️