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Brent G

Started by Trout Chaser, December 29, 2006, 19:27:44 PM

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Trout Chaser

Attached is a link to information about the passing of Brent G.

http://www.southeastflyfishingforum.com/forum/showthread.php?t=15119

TC


Mstash

He will be missed
A good man, Husban and father

Our prayers are with the family

Mstash


Devinsdad

A true gentleman in every sense

He will be missed by many


troutphisher

I'm not much on prayers,

But I hope he's in a good place, sunny skies, warm weather, easy flowing water with lots of bugs hatching, and he's catching some really nice fish.

TP
The object of life is not to be on the side of the majority, but to escape finding oneself in the ranks of the insane.

Woolly Bugger

He will be missed by all of us. I can't find the words to express my grief. We will always remember the gentleman fisherman from Northern Virginia.

ex - I'm not going to live with you through one more fishing season!

me -There's a season?

Pastor explains icons to my son: you know like the fish symbol on the back of cars.

My son: My dad has two fish on his car and they're both trout!

troutjedi

Man, I hate to hear that.....Brent was a hell of a great guy.  I never got to fish with him, but I did have the pleasure of meeting and speaking with him on a few occassions.  He was definitely one of the good ones.   :'(


Trout Chaser

Simply one of the best... husband, father, fisherman.  I'm fortunate to have had him as a friend and fishing buddy.  Tight lines Bubba.

TC


Stone-Man

  great guy
great fisherman
keeper of the Blue-Line Code

Fond memories on the creek and behind the vise

I miss him

JT


croaker

Wish I couldv'e fished with him more...

-you can't conquer a free man; the most you can do is kill him.  Robert A. Heinlein.

Woolly Bugger

January 03, 2007, 18:34:32 PM #9 Last Edit: January 04, 2007, 09:48:47 AM by Woolly Bugger

The past days have been very hard to comprehend; the feelings of hurt, grief and loss are immense. We came together in Broadway and New Market Virginia to celebrate the life of a gifted fly fisherman, a man with the patience and knowledge that enabled him to catch the uncatchable. He was always generous with his knowledge and gave away flies by the dozen. As he would share a fly with me it was not one but a dozen, "here try a couple of these, and this one might work too" and before you knew it your outstretched hand was bristling with a dozen or more of expertly tied flies.

On the night of the visitation with the family the warm but rainy day had turned cold and windy, there was a wintery feel in the air as we arrived at the funeral home. The parking lot was full and the nearby streets were choked with traffic and parked cars. We parked a short distance away and walked in the cold to the home. The line was about 20 deep waiting to get into the warmth of the building. Gradually ever so slowly we took steps toward the open door. Once inside the mood was much more somber as we waited in the alcove before the visitation room. Once inside we were greeted with familiar pictures of Brent, mostly fishing on the streams that he loved. Some were taken at PFF and others on his home waters and a few from some distant locations. He looked so happy and at peace on the stream, either stalking a trout or holding a brookie for the pictures, his distinct broken pinkie sticking straight out. You could always tell that BrentG has caught that one! Heather, Brent's daughter had put together these photo collages, most were fishing be some were family trips to the beach and we got to see a much younger version of the man. As we approached the casket, adorned with a beautiful spray of flowers, I noticed that his fishing hat was also placed among the flowers. We shared out thoughts with Marilyn and Heather and the other members of his family. It was heartbreaking. It seems an impossible task for a widow to stand for hours, but it also must be a great comfort to see the throngs that showed their support and love of Brent and his family. As we stepped out into the frigid night air, I mentioned that this was the second funeral that I had been to in as many weeks, Ralph asked if it got any easier, and with a tear in my eye I answered, "No, no it never gets any easier".

Back at Tim's home we gathered for a meal, cooked by Dan (9' 4wt), of oyster stew and chili along with a lot of others fixings. We were able to celebrate the man, the fisherman that we knew and loved. We, in our own ways, took comfort from our camaraderie, and we celebrated Brent's renowned fishing skills. We laughed, we cried, Joni Mitchell said it best in one of her songs, "Laughing and crying, you know it's the same release".

The next morning after gathering once again at Tim's for breakfast we headed off to the church for the service. Fourteen Psycho Fly Fishers had gathered to lay to rest one of our departed members. We had been chosen by his wife Marilyn to be the pallbearers because Brent had so enjoyed the PFF events. We were ushered into the church just prior to the family and we wept for them as they entered. The service was quite emotional, very moving and healing with the reflection on how on person's life can touch so many others. The poem The Dash was read and it was a fitting tribute to Brent's life, one of kindness and generosity. He will be missed. The minister talked about how unlink fly fisherman Jesus did not practice catch and release, he keeps his catch of men.

With Amazing Grace playing we filed out of the church for our duty, our honor of carrying Brent casket to the hearse. A long procession left the town church to the smaller church and cemetery on the county line, it seemed like the cars stretched for miles through the countryside to the small white church nestled close to the foothills of the mountains from where the blueline brookies streams flowed. Brent's' grave overlooks a bream pond and here he will rest in peace and forever in our minds and in the water which holds those speckled jewels of life.

I'll close with the words of Robert Travers' Anatomy of a Fisherman

Testament of a Fisherman

I fish because I love to; I love the environs where trout are found, which are invariable beautiful, and hate the environs where crowds of people are found, which are invariably ugly; because of all the television commercials, cocktail parties, and assorted social posturing I thus escape; because in a world where most men seem to spend their lives doing things they hate, my fishing is at once an endless source of delight and an act of small rebellion; because trout do not lie or cheat and cannot be bought or bribed or impressed by power, but respond only to quietude and humility and endless patience; because I suspect that men are going along this way for the last time, and I for one don't want to waste the trip; because mercifully there are no telephones on trout waters; because only in the wood can I find solitude without loneliness; because bourbon out of an old tin cup always taste better out there; because maybe e one day I will catch a mermaid; and finally, not because I regard fishing as being so terribly important but because I suspect that so many of the other concerns of men are equally unimportant – and not nearly so much fun.

I'm thankful for the small part of Brent's "dash" that I got to know.

May the peace of Christ be with you.

Thanks to:

Tim and Mary, Lauri, Dave, Larry, Kim, Jule, Chris, Matt, Aaron, Ralph, Rob, Steve, Dan and the others.

ex - I'm not going to live with you through one more fishing season!

me -There's a season?

Pastor explains icons to my son: you know like the fish symbol on the back of cars.

My son: My dad has two fish on his car and they're both trout!

Mstash


troutjedi

Very nice, Keith.  May Brent rest in peace   :)


pelcrk

Well said Keith. There's some good people with kind hearts out there and you're one of them. We were fortunate to be among them the past few days.

Best,

Steve

It's all good drifts

Devinsdad

That was a Beaut Woolly-

Thanks for sharing.

Rest in peace Brent.


FT

Charter Member Shenandoah Valley Irregulars


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