Brandt Was Still Brandt - A Parent Perspective

On a Sunday morning in Amsterdam, on a layover between flights on a trip home from Africa, I received a text message from my son Brandt, asking if I could talk that evening. I may have thought he might announce his engagement. He had been traveling the world with a female co-worker, organizing events for Electric Run, my older son Dan’s company, and I speculated that they might have fallen in love.

More likely, though, I just thought he wanted to make sure we had the chance to talk. When I arrived home, my wife Tauni told me she had received a similar message. That raised the suspense level. He arrived at our house at 7:00, and got straight to the point: “I’m gay.” Tauni immediately replied, “I’ve always known.” I don’t recall saying anything immediately, although I probably thought, “That explains a lot.”

Both Tauni and I assured Brandt we had always loved him and that this changed nothing. If anything, we would love him more. We both knew he had a challenging path. Brandt told us he had first come out to our daughter Nina a few weeks earlier. He had been fearful, and didn’t know what to expect. He read us two long, heart-rending letters. He had been aware of and struggled with his same-sex attraction for over 15 years.

He had done everything the LDS Church required—fasting, prayer, scripture study, church attendance, missionary service. He had dated a lot of girls. Dozens. Maybe more. He had prayed for the desire to marry a woman. Nothing worked.

He finally accepted that he was gay. He assured us he didn’t choose this. This was how he had been born. Based on the messages he received growing up, he had believed he was broken and could not be fixed.

He finally came to realize, however, that being gay was about much more than sexual attraction. It was his whole way of being. If he were to change, he would be someone else. He seemed to have learned to accept himself.

Our immediate family showered him with love, or so it seemed to me. We had always loved him. All of us. He was the most popular member of the family—the peacemaker, the most thoughtful, the best friend, and, despite his fears, the most adventurous, certainly the bravest. He eventually came out to friends and most nearly everyone in our extended family, except my parents. My father was in failing health. He had served as bishop, stake president, mission president. We didn’t know how he would respond, so we waited.

After he died, Brandt asked me to tell my mother. The words, “Brandt’s gay,” had barely escaped my mouth when my mother replied, “It doesn’t matter. Brandt is Brandt. We love him just the same.” My mother said it all. Nothing changed. We accepted him. We treated him the same. Brandt was still Brandt.