Never Forgotten
Prologue: I wrote a story in 2011 about a loss that deeply impacted a family. At the time, I thought I was writing a story about a man who had died too young. Over the years, I realized the story was more about a family, the Lane family. I was a part of this big loving brood for the twenty years spanning my young adult years.
Brad Lane, one of the nine Russ and Cookie Lane children, died in 2007. My marriage to their son, Scott, ended a year later.
Russ and Cookie have since passed away; Russ in 2022 and Cookie just two weeks ago.
When I wrote this story in 2011, my transition from family insider to friendly outsider had begun. I have since become comfortable in my role from the outside: as the mother of Russ and Cookie’s grandchildren and curator of treasured family memories from the past.
Below is the story I wrote in 2011. Written from the heart, I was still raw from feelings of death and loss. Without knowing it then, my sharing of this story became the final chapter in my story as a Lane.
The Story: Brad Lane (12/5/1967 - 12/1/2007):
The Lane family photo was taken in 1986, shortly after Scott and I started dating. Brad is in the middle, third from the left, with Scott to his right. Cookie and Russ smile behind their brood, with has expanded with marriages and a first grandchild.
Brad died on December 1, 2007. Although it has been four years, many details from the days following his death feel like yesterday. This is especially true each year as we reflect on the anniversary of his passing. Somehow, that fateful time becomes a raw memory embedded in the mind with a void that grows bigger in the heart as this day passes. I see it in the eyes of his family and in their words of encouragement to each other as they cope to get through and rally as a family. That is the Lane way…cope, love, and persevere together. As this anniversary is now behind us, the memories burn bright again. We all know that memories come in many shapes and sizes. For the Lanes, memories are carried in the good of a lovable brother, uncle, and son, and in the bad, the painful memories of losing Brad.
What began as a very ordinary Saturday in Nebraska, one that most of us have experienced a hundred times over, turned into a day that changed our lives forever. A rain hit the ground that early morning and turned into a mild ice storm. With resolve under the cloudy skies and slippery roads, I ventured out to follow my Saturday gym routine. My family stayed back at home in different stages of sleep and sleepiness with the beginnings of our seemingly Saturday normalcy. But this day quickly turned into all but normal. Between workout reps, I picked up my phone and noticed several missed calls from home.
“The boys want me to pick up donuts on my way home,” I thought. Scott answered my call back with a statement that was so surreal then that I couldn’t even comprehend who he was referring to.
“Brad is dead.”
After a very confusing conversation that followed, I became aware that the 'Brad' Scott was referring to was his younger brother. Brad Lane had died that morning, just four days shy of his fortieth birthday.
I knew Brad before I knew Scott, introduced to most of the Lane family in 1986 while pregnant Robbie’s loyal sidekick and trusted friend. I remember my first introduction to this crew was a framed family picture that Robbie proudly had on display in her dorm room. This treasure had the Lane kids stacked one after another up a playground slide with heads peaking out either side. The parents sat proudly at the top of their brood. Robbie would recite their names and highlight their differences and similarities. I was intrigued by these smiling toe heads from the get-go and before I had even met them.
The Lane clan was a cross between the “Brady Bunch” and “Eight is Enough” (but with nine kids instead of eight). And Brad was the fun-loving brother. He was always the one to get the first laugh and a charmer with his boyish grin. He had a sense of genuineness to him that made you instantly feel at ease. I experienced this unconditional acceptance as he immediately received me as ‘one of them.’ I felt like a Lane girl from day one. For Brad, being Lane and being Otis (Brad’s family nickname) meant acceptance and putting others before himself. Brad never knew a stranger.
We buried Brad on a Wednesday. It was a cold day with overcast skies. As we were still trying to make sense of the unthinkable, there was a general feeling among the family similar to that of a dull ache. We didn’t know the answers and couldn’t even begin to put our arms around the reality of this loss. But the family pulled together as we cared for the many grandchildren, made funeral arrangements, and made many trips to the airport with arms open to mourning out-of-state family. Just as this large crew came together for the multitude of celebrations over the years, they were now preparing to bury their son and brother as a unified family.
People came to the wake and the funeral in masses. Devotion and love toward the Lanes were evidenced by the number of people who had come to pay their respects to a family that had always continuously given of themselves. As Cookie and Russ unselfishly shared their love of life with those they encountered, these same people were now overwhelmingly supporting them. All who know the Lanes know they are a family who would give you the shirt off their back. And they would do this knowing there was no spare shirt in their drawer to replace it. I have benefited from being part of this family for over half my life and being ‘raised’ Lane during my young adult years. Through this blessing, I have learned many great lessons of the heart and the value of being a part of a family that continually gives.
There is a saying that people don’t always remember exact words or actions but always remember how they felt. This best describes Brad’s funeral. I don’t remember the exact readings or who I sat beside, but I do remember holding on to each other as we sobbed with tears that never stopped flowing. I remember feeling a huge sense of sadness and loss but also a sense of complete family unity. I remember all of us watching closely over grandchildren and reaching out to hold them as we saw them struggling during the service. I remember watching my sons cry not only for a lost uncle they adored but for their broken father and bereaved grandparents. A hole was left in the heart of a family that can never be replaced.
Fr. Don left a mark on this mourning family with the most amazing sermon from the heart, a true gift to the Lanes. As a long-time family friend, Fr. Don Shane watched the Lane children grow up. He celebrated mass with the Lane Family, filling an entire row at church. He spent time in their home, baptized their grandchildren, and shared many laughs with this family full of an abundance of family humor. He spoke from the heart without focusing on the ‘whys’ of Brad’s death. Although I may not remember the exact words, I can tell you that what he said moved me and comforted a family who knew his words to be true.
“Many families are wealthy. Most would think this to be a monetary assessment. I am here to tell you that the Lanes are a family of wealth. Their wealth is in kindness and love. They have richness in a deep and unconditional love for each other and all privileged to be part of their circle. Brad was a part of this love and knew this love. This family grieving before me is the wealthiest family I know.”
Brad was buried on his fortieth birthday. We had finished the funeral luncheon and had invited family to gather at our house. No one was ready to part, and the Lane way is to be together and share time together…pictures, memories, conversation, and always a lot of great food. So that is what we did. We packed up cakes and food that many friends had dropped off and traveled to West Omaha as we opened our home to anyone who wanted to join us.
As we sat in unity at our house, strange events unfolded in Omaha. There was a random mass shooting by a lone gunman at the Omaha Von Maur department store. There were many dead and wounded, with many more questions as to the whys and hows. We were glued to the television set at my home, trying to piece together yet another tragedy in our community after an already emotion-filled day. The following day, when the details on the timeline of shooter entry and killings were depicted in the paper, I was quickly aware of a blessing bestowed on me.
The weekend before Brad died, I purchased a little black Christmas dress at the department store Von Maur. The day before Brad died, I noticed the length of the hanging dress in my closet, tags intact, and deemed it too long for my taste. I had placed the dress in the back of my vehicle, making a mental note that I would return it the next week on my way to an out-of-town client meeting. As the forever planner, I mapped my route to my future client meeting and knew a stop by Von Maur in route would be multi-tasking at its best in avoiding the weekend holiday mall crowds.
The day after the funeral and shootings, I noticed the forgotten bag in the back of my car. The timeline of my aborted plan quickly surged through me as I compared it to the actual series of events that transpired over the previous 24 hours. My client meeting was canceled as it was on the same day as Brad’s funeral. Based on my scheduled meeting time, if it weren’t for Brad’s funeral, I would have been at the customer service counter of Von Maur at the exact time that several people were killed and critically wounded by the young gunman.
Although I haven’t shared this Godwink story with many people, I have always felt in my heart that Brad somehow saved my life on that fateful day. And although this is a far-fetched thought, it is something I will always hold in my heart to be true. Brad was a Lane, tried and true, and that’s what Lane’s do; they give you the shirt off their back and put their family first.
The void of Brad’s loss will never be filled, and the hole in the heart of the Lane Family will never be replaced. Regardless of his journey, a child, brother, son, and uncle were taken from this family. He was a kind heart that we all so desperately wish would have had one more chance at life. But that is not a decision of man but of our God. Our blessing stays with us in our memories and the smiling, loving faces of the many nieces and nephews who each carry a piece of Uncle Brad in their hearts. I can now picture him with his boyish grin, looking down at us from heaven. The innocent reality in Brad was that he never judged others and gave of himself with all that he could offer. And we all know that the heart and the love of a family is the most valuable asset of any individual. It is this wealth that makes us whole. Although Brad’s life was short and his accomplishments few by the naked eye, his sharing of kindness and love was a big contribution to a great family legacy. And the Lane family legacy will continue to make a difference in this world one person at a time.
Epilogue: Post-divorce, I often struggled with how to refer to Russ and Cookie. My ex-in-laws? My ex-husband’s parents? My kids’ grandparents? None felt right. The reality is that they treated me like one of their own. The Lanes came into my life in the fall of 1986, coinciding with my parents’ move to Arizona. Scott and I married in 1990. Through those 22 years, I was in the loving Lane inner circle. After remarrying and moving on to my new life chapter, I was graced with the same love and acceptance from the Lane family.
Rest in peace, Russ & Cookie. I will always treasure your warm embrace, both when I joined the family and when I left it. You were always good to me—thank you for allowing me to feel the Lane love. You will never be forgotten.
Russell Lane (8/3/43 - 2/24/22)Phyllis (Cookie) Lane (6/20/45 - 11/10/23)Never forgotten.