On the Loss of a Son

I am a reasonably active user of social media, but this is the hardest post I have ever had to compose. In a year that so many have lost loved ones, please forgive this intensely personal post.

It is time for me to put on paper some of my thoughts about the past few weeks. On January 2, Heidi’s and my life changed forever – we suddenly lost our only child, Bradley Harrison Chain, at the age of 40. From looking towards the future, we now must look back and cherish our memories of Brad.

There are certain immutable laws of nature, or so I thought. One is that no one should die at the age of 40. The other is that a parent should not have to bury his or her child. Unfortunately, both of these laws of nature were broken.

Brad was a great kid and grew into an even better man. He was kind, caring, compassionate, and loving. He was a calming influence in times of stress and difficulty - our rock. Professionally, he was well respected by his colleagues, the judiciary, and, even, the defense bar – his adversaries in the legal process. He cared about others more than himself.

He was a nexus – a connector. He brought people together from the various groups he was part of: Saint Ann’s School, Duke University, Brooklyn Law School, the DA's office, and other circles of friends. Each of these groups rotated around Brad, not as a star or a sun, not as an ego thing, but, rather, as a common friend and loved one. These groups met each other, and, in turn, became friends. It was not uncommon for Brad's high school friends to hang out with his law school friends. This was the Venn diagram of Brad’s life.

On a personal level, we have been overwhelmed with the outpouring of affection from our friends, family, and colleagues. In this COVID-19 age, we needed to respect and protect the lives of our loved ones and friends during the funeral and grieving process. Thus, we held a graveside funeral service with mourners socially distanced and masked. We also held virtual Shiva sessions during the week following Brad's passing. Over 200 people signed in during the times we set aside for the sessions. We could not, of course, have people in our house, again to protect all involved, but we found, as the only alternative, that the virtual sessions permitted us to come together as a community to mourn Brad. As in his life, disparate groups of people shared stories and memories of Brad and his endearing qualities.

These are mirrored in the messages left on the memorial wall of the funeral home - where many left inspiring, sad, but at the same time uplifting messages of Brad’s character and qualities. [Bradley CHAIN Obituary - Forest Hills, NY (dignitymemorial.com)]

Heidi and I have been fortunate to have known many of his friends from the various circles he walked. Heidi accepted a job, and changed her legal career arc, to work within walking distance to Saint Ann’s in Brooklyn Heights. She would drive Brad down to school and then back when her workday was ended. Between the time of school being finished and the return to Queens, Brad would hang out with his friends. From that were formed the bonds that lasted throughout his life. On the weekends, these friends, in turn, would spend time with us - hanging out and playing ball. Approximately 15 of his Saint Ann's friends joined one of the Shiva sessions, en masse.

Personally, I joined the board of the Freeman Center for Jewish Life at Duke when Brad was an undergraduate. This was a great excuse to be on campus every quarter for four years and to meet and get to know Brad's friends. It was touching to see over 20 at one of the Shiva sessions; I understand that the groups regathered a day or so later to reminisce about Brad and share memories.

It is a testament to Brad's character and his ability to bond with people that these friends have reached out to us, his parents, to check in and let us know that we will continue to be part of their lives.

My memories of Brad are of course deep and broad. He was a fervent Mets and Jets fan, and we spent many years using our season tickets at Shea Stadium and then at CitiField. He was an avid tennis player, and we played every Sunday before his tennis lessons at the U.S. National Tennis Center, and after his summer sojourns to the Bollettieri tennis camp in Massachusetts. We had fun, just hanging out. And, of course, watching Duke basketball games together. Our relationship evolved past father – son to friendship as he matured, started his career as a district attorney, and started his family.

Brad will be missed on so many levels. For Heidi and me, it is of course the loss of our son and termination of his journey with us as a family member and a loved one. We are left with his memories, which will not fade over time. He also leaves behind Katerina, his wife, and Mia, his 2-1/2 year-old daughter – my granddaughter. One of our friends said to me last week that as long as we speak Brad's name and think about him, he is not gone. It is now our job to keep Bradley in Mia’s thoughts and memories.

Brad will live on in our hearts, our minds, and our souls. He will live on in our memories. He will live on through the relationships he built throughout his short life. He will live on through the love he gave unflinchingly and enduringly, and he will live on through Mia. 

Heidi and I would like to thank all of those who have expressed their sympathy and love to us during this devastating period. Nothing will reverse the events that occurred, but we appreciate folks reaching out by attending the funeral, signing onto our virtual Shiva sessions, and sending notes, emails, cards, flowers and/or food. It is at times like these that friends rise up and support those in need – and we thank you for it.

RIP, Brad. We will love you forever. See you on the other side.