Obituary

Bryan Christopher Frydenberg Bower
June 28, 1982 – May 2, 2011

Bryan was born in Oslo, Norway, on a half moon night to the delight of his parents, Jerry and Jia. At a mere 4 weeks of age he took his first bath in the ocean surrounding our summer house in southern Norway, safe in dad’s arms.

Bryan grew up with his family in Irvine, California, with frequent trips to see his dad’s family and friends in Michigan. He excelled in school and was on the Woodbridge High School wrestling team. However, when he met rock climbers at the Master’s College in Santa Clarita, he found his true passion. He could both lead and follow multiple-pitch climbs, always safe and never reckless, patient and encouraging to new climbers. Bryan could be trusted 100% and trained to scale the 3, 000 foot vertical face of El Capitan in Yosemite, a place he loved. His friends miss him enormously.

At some point, probably on his beloved island in Norway, Bryan was bitten by an infected tick and contracted Lyme disease. It was not diagnosed until several years later, by which time the illness had become chronic. The devastating disease invaded his nervous system and kept him in debilitating pain. But he wouldn’t give up: he agreed to one invasive treatment after another, but the pain only grew. Bryan, whose name means warrior, fought like the lion he was. His last years confined him to his bed nearly all the time, in agony.

Bryan was an artist, a philosopher, and a poet. For love of his parents and all he knew he could give the world, he did battle against the overwhelming enemy for years after an ordinary man would have given up.

There is now a Bryan-shaped hole in the universe, that not even time can fill. We, the survivors, comfort each other by the knowledge that for the first time in nearly a decade, Bryan is not in pain. He is strong and whole and his spirit will live on in us, forever.

Interment of his ashes will take place under the oaks at the El Toro Memorial Park, 25751 Trabuco Road, Lake Forest, CA 92630, Thursday, May 26, at 11am.

Jia Frydenberg
Rolf Frydenberg
Grete Frydenberg
Reidar Frydenberg
Jerry Bower
Laurie Powell
Carol Bower
Harry Bower

————
deep purple souls

the light flickers and the heart beats
man suffers and fights
and god watches ambivalently

white nights in the sands of summer
cold storms on my bricks
call me by my true name in eden
call me lover

i have seen the face of wonder
felt all the glory and despair
taken it in, breathed deep
fallen on my sword and prayed
to an empty sky

to a sky unknown, to a god unknown
all the glory surrounds me
the love and beauty, and also the torturous pain
if i am for wonder in the desert
than so will i be in the valley
or my mountains
broken, wet, and hallowed

Bryan Bower
Mexico
January 2010

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79 responses to Bryan Christopher Frydenberg Bower

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Jerry Bower says:

April 14, 2018

Bryan’s epic poem “rain of terror” – it captures the pain of Lyme disease like nothing I have ever read, but it also captures the wonder of living and breathing, of freedom. “for wonder” was Bryan’s saying.

rain of terror

a little rainfall tonight grabbed me out of my opiate-delusion and i wrote this. folks, times are hard
it’s raining
god is giving us little kisses
angry little hate filled drops of eternal death

they drop like swords
like hail of marbles, filled with delicious floods,
storms, hurricanes, tsunami, more floods, mud slides, did i say death? yes, well, more
death

the rain is more beautiful than anything
like sunsets with a purpose
if only that purpose was benign
if only god did not give us hate with love
if only he actually existed, and if he did, deadly rain would not, could not.

i smell the rain
it smells like green fields in heaven
it can see the ticks lapping it up
it nourishing them, and the deadly bacteria that swims inside them

i see the rain running down a girl’s head as she cold sweats every night and day for her
life, and people accuse, but do not ask, do not care, do not help
i see the rain running down her cheek as tears are never absent

i used to think: god gives us blessings. it is never cold and wet; if it is cold, it snows; if it
is warm, it rains. i used to think he left these little blessing all over the place, little
reminders of his love; but the other way is also true, pain with love, hate with beauty;
almost like nature

suburban religion
down comforter religion
fireplace and hot cocoa religion
or starvation in Africa religion, while those who represent god feed you and tell you to
believe; that heaven is not a place on earth, god is not you, you must take time out from
being murdered and starving in order to put your head to the dirt and thank a fellow that
was murdered two thousand years ago for no good reason

but ice floats
the seas do not boil
sunrise and sunset are red
we have snow and rain, clouds and ozone
we have wonder in abundance beyond reckoning
we do not need god

the only thing more natural than hating god, is loving tits

the rain is not benevolent, nor mal
god is non
nor is he here
nor is he he
nor is

here are we
we are
we have our lives and abilities, our loves
we are god and the rain touches us with wetness, and that is all

but in it we see the crops
we feel the cool wind
we breathe the damp air
we love it
our bodies love it as the earth loves it, and we are the earth, we are, and that is no shame

our world was never eden, but it could be
we are able, we have come so far, only our religion restrains us, only our fear contains us

in windy circles the rain falls
plays with the dirt and falls again
we ask questions of it
but we get only more
and we do not see the beauty in our rain-filled eyes

Bryan Bower
California
Friday, January 23, 2009 3:31 AM

Reply
Deborah Evers says:

May 15, 2018

Your son’s poem, rain of terror, inspired me to write this poem in response to his. I have been suffering lately with Lyme & writing poetry helps me as well. I’m a 44 yo married mom of 3. ?

Lyme Storm
by, Deb Evers
5/15/18

It’s raining now; it never ceases
My furrowed brow
Tears in eye creases
I try to hold them back
I can’t
But it hurts to cry

The thunder crashes
My whole body jumps
Electric lightning shocks my spine again
And again
And again

I would do anything
To make this stop

Please stop lyme from hurting me
I want to punch the lyme inside me
But then I’d be punching myself
I live in a cage of pain now
The rain pours down

It floods my soul
But I’m still dehydrated
I can’t get enough to drink
Yet everything burns my tongue
If life is a ladder; I’m on the last rung

Is there no escape from this torture?
Is life only pain now?
And rain
Only rain?
I’ve always loved the rain

A good thunderstorm fills my soul
Especially now
In the deep, dark night
The daylight hurts my eyes
I’m a vampire now

I sleep in the day
I’m up all night
Alone
In pain
Listening to the rain

Drum
Drum
Drum
Inside my brain
The anxiety is so intense

Am I dying?
Is this pain from the Lyme?
Or something else?
What’s happening to me?

No one seems to understand
Why I say the things I say
Or do the things
Or feel the things
I don’t understand either

Blinding migraines
I’m walking in circles on the patio
In the light of the full moon
I want my mom
My mom can’t help me now
No one can

I try not to feel sorry for myself
Other people have it worse
I have extreme empathy for other people
And their struggles
Whatever they may be

I am always crying for them
Because I know what pain is
Physical and mental
And to be without strength to go on
And without hope

I do love the rain though
I wonder if it will ever stop.

My deepest sympathies to your family for the loss of your precious son, Bryan. What a talented poet and inspiration to the Lyme community and to the world. A beautiful soul. I have had Lyme for 6 years. I was diagnosed 1 year ago. And the fight continues….. I wish peace, love and comfort to you all.

Sincerely,
Deb

Reply
1. Jerry Bower says:
  
  May 17, 2018
  
  Thank you so much Deb, especially for your heartfelt poem here. Peace, love and best wishes to you. And I believe there is help out there, if only it’s enough. Email me if you like, and always keep fighting; make your own choices.
  Bryan had no children, I hope yours appreciate all you do and love you for it. Best, Jerry Bower (jerrybowermi@gmail.com)
  
  Reply
Robyn says:

October 14, 2018

I know you are at peace now. I suffer from the same devilish pain and I know how you suffered. God Bless you my Lyme angel friend

Reply
David M. Doring says:

May 21, 2020

Dear Bryan’s Family,
Please accept my deepest feelings for your intense sorrow at the loss of dear Bryan. The Lord is weeping too, just as he wept for Lazarus. The Scriptures say, “…time and unforseen circumstance befalls ALL of us…” Sometimes even The Lord. He did not forsee or plan for Bryan to suffer and die so terribly. He heard every one of Bryan and your prayers and it broke His heart to hold back His healing powers. The devil told God that no human could keep their faith in the face of extreme suffering, and this has always been the devil’s most effective weapon. This is NOT God’s will for innocent people like Bryan and yourselves to suffer like that. He has promised to soon get rid of the devil and reverse ALL of the suffering the devil has caused. I hope The Lord acts soon, for all of our sakes. Please don’t give up praying.
Love and hugs to each one of you, David

Reply
Jerry Bower says:

May 2, 2021

It will be 10 years ago on May 2nd that you left us Bryan, as you said you would, and your mother and I told you we understood – we loved you so much, you see. And we had seen so much too, and felt so much – so much futility, so much hate and helplessness in the face of this terrible disease — yes indeed we had, a ‘so much’ that amounted to absolutely nothing compared to one day of what you went through, day after day after day after day for years and years…But you are free now aren’t you? You come back to us now and then – when the ceiling fans started spinning on their own in my house – I know it was you; the smoke alarms that even now I have to leave disconnected, with even the circuit breaker off. Because they will beep, and they won’t stop. And there is no smoke, nothing cooking on the stove, the oven is off. The grill is cold and covered outside… You are free now, and soaring aren’t you Bryan – soaring like those of us who have it easy here on the ground will never experience; we’ve never earned it. That’s how it should be.

“Wonders are many, and none is more wonderful than man; the power that crosses the white sea, driven by the stormy south-wind, making a path under surges that threaten to engulf him; …And speech, and wind-swift thought, and all the moods that mould a state, hath he taught himself; and how to flee the arrows of the frost, when it is hard lodging under the clear sky, and the arrows of the rushing rain; yea, he hath resource for all; without resource he meets nothing that must come; only against Death shall he call for aid in vain…but [perhaps even] from [these] baffling maladies he hath devised escapes.” SOPHOCLES – Antigone, with a little help that only people who have suffered immensely for no reason have earned the right to offer, and to receive. And to feel. To soar.

Reply
1. Jerry Bower says:
  
  May 15, 2022
  
  Scroll down and you’ll see the candle entries with Bryan’s poems that I mentioned above…
  
  Bryan’s Dad,
  
  Jerry Bower
  jerrybowermi@gmail.com
  
  Reply