To Birdie, Allie, Susan, the Bragg, and the Foster families,
My memories of Kevin Bragg do not compare to your own, and I am so sorry for your immense loss. My memories of Kevin are brief and speckled with years, but also warming and joyful.
I was fortunate enough to grow some of my years close to one of the places Kevin called home, which is also where his beloved Burtie was born. My family lived on the other side of a sloping street, and we would walk over the crest many evenings, and then towards his home on Westover Avenue. It wasn’t more than 200 yards, but I recall the intense anticipation of coming close enough to his home and then, awaiting his mountainous arrival.
I was old enough to know his intentions; tender and wholesome. My younger brother though, was still too young to foresee, or to understand Kevin’s light-hearted game. My brother would be frightened and scared, even sometimes crying when the roars came out from the door, to the yard, and then to our feet. But Kevin, of course, would bend gently, reigning in the gentle beast, and kneel close to the stroller to console my brother, afraid that his trick was too much.
By the time we moved away, my brother also had grown wildly fond of the game, even looking for Kevin first in the neighborhood hide-and-seek games, as well as insisting that we go the long way past his house in hopes of being surprised on those evening walks.
It hurts to hear we lost a constantly youthful and joyful part of our own small world, but I revel and laugh in the fact that he will always be waiting to surprise us with a giant growl and an ever greater heart, as soon as we come over that next hill.