Brandon & Tiffany

My brother's name was Brandon James Krug.
He was 6'1" and could bench press around 375 pounds.
He was a good-looking guy with a lot of potential to
move ahead in life. He loved his family more than he cared to mention.
I'm not saying he was perfect, because that would be way off, but he made me proud.
He was only 18 years old when he died.

He loved his car. He had a 1991 Honda Accord.
Whenever I saw him he was either listening to music in his car or trying to make it better.
I now have his 12" speakers in my car in memory of him, so wherever I drive I can hear that
bam that I always heard when he came home.

When my grandmother died, he was devastated. He even made a tattoo of her name on his leg
and wasn't afraid to show anyone it. I know he is in a happier place with her now, and everyone one else we've lost along the way.

Some Cherished Memories

I remember when he would come home at night and come in my room and say, "ok Tiff...it's time for the spine buster" and he would make me charge at him and them he would pick me up and throw me on the bed but he made sure he didn't hurt me.

I remember driving him to school everyday until he finally learned how to drive..weird because I'm younger than him. He would sit in the car while we were listening to music and he would do motions to the music that would make it look like he was making the beat to the song. We would listen to this one song every morning...it went, "always in my face, talking this and that...girl I had to buy some rims for my 'hondalac'. The song is called Chickenhead.

I remember whenever I had a boyfriend my brother would tell me that if he did anything I didnt like then to tell him and he would take care of it. He was always so protective of me and I'm thankful for that. He made me a stronger person and I love him very much!!

I MISS HIM EVERY SECOND

From the beginning to the end
As I say the dates with tears,
What matters most of all
Is the dash between those years.

(February 11, 1983- May 17, 2001)

That dash represents all the time
That he spent alive on earth...
And now only those who loved him
Know what that little line is worth.

You never know how long you will be here,
So spend time with the ones you love, more
And love the people in your lives
Like you've never loved before.

Love,
Tiffany M. Krug

What I think...

Death, so final, so painful for those who survive. I am a survivor, the pain seems to be uttered heavily upon my life. I miss him. I miss his laughs, his coming home at night and bugging me, but also his unending generosity. We were friends, finally, after several years of sibling rivalry. We had gotten to the point, actually in the last couple months of his life, where we could be honest with each other.

Time has passed but my heart still aches. My mind wanders all the time thinking of him. I still miss my brother. I believe I always will. It seems so unfair that he was taken from us. Why not someone else? That wouldn't be fair either. Why did God take Brandon from us? So young - too young. Questioning an existance of God has weighed heavily upon my soul, but my faith has won, and I do indeed believe my brother was needed. Yet, I still can't bring myself to go to church.

Did he suffer? What a horrific, violent death! Was he out instantly? I'm afraid I will never know the answers to that. I sometimes have waking nightmares and aweful daytime flashes about what could have caused his car to run off the road. Was he going to fast, lost control and ran off the road? Did he know what was happening to him? Why weren't there any witnesses? I will never find any answers to these questions and it will probably bother me for the rest of my life.

I drove past the accident scene that morning on my way to school just five minutes before the police got to the scene. Why didn't I look to the left? Was God protecting me from what I would have had to see? I am kind of thankful that I didn't have to see it, but in a way I wish I would have. A little girl and her mom saw the car when they woke up that morning and went to go look at the car not expecting somebody to be in there. When the little girl saw Brandon, she passed out. I wonder sometimes what he looked like and I get aweful images in my head.

Tears well up in my eyes as I think of him. Pictures remind me of all the memories. He was my only sibling. We were close in age, only a year and 17 days apart. There was terrible fighting and name calling in our younger years but as we got older, we got closer. The love and loyalty between us grew.

Family, friends, even some people that never even met him were at his funeral. It was a strange day. It was the worst day of my life. I felt abandoned, freightened, wishing for another time, another moment, a chance to say goodbye.

Marriages blossom and babies are born, he will never experience either of these, a concept with which I struggle. We come into this world knowing death is a reality. Then why is it such a suprise? Why are we so afraid? I have learned that when someone you love dies, you no longer fear death, because you know that special person is waiting for you. I know I will be with my brother again when I die.

Reality has set in. How I would love to see him again. Looking back at his life has inspired me to live a life in which anything is possible. Live life to the fullest, that's what Brandon did. I am sure he was pleased with everything he has done. His face in death was not the one I knew. It seems so fake, so made up. I wish it was just a dream, but I know that won't come true.

Getting it together has been difficult. I am actually still in the process. I think I need to start a family of my own. I am so alone. Oh, what I would give to have him here, but reality forces itself upon me.

He's gone.

I love you Brandon.

written by Tiffany M. Krug

I drew this picture of Brandon my senior year in Art class!

This is me.

This was a memory page in Tiffany's yearbook the year after
Brandon died.

Brandon (in blue) and Tiffany with Grandma York.

Grandpa York with Brandon.

Brandon and Tiffany with Grandma Miranda.