Brandon was born on a Sunday summer morning and died on a Sunday summer afternoon, and---for him and for us---there was far too little time in between.  We come here today to celebrate the short but full years he had on this earth, and the lessons of love and courage, patience and joy, he shared so freely all his days.

Brandon started out in life small---just a bit over five pounds---but never let being little get in the way of his happiness.  He was a cheerful baby, always laughing and smiling, holding up both thumbs to say everything in his world was okay.  And it was.  He was wanted and cuddled, petted and loved by Mom and Dad and his sisters, and made the Hampson Family finally complete.

Being small at birth meant he did things like sitting up and crawling and walking later than others his age, but he never seemed bothered by it.  He didn’t have much to say, but always made himself understood with smiles and gestures and coos.  He took such joy in everything, and never was fussy.  That made his family even more surprised when they learned he couldn’t hear well.  Babies with impaired hearing almost always are temperamental, but Brandon never was.  He just did the best that he could with what he had---and never, ever complained. 

Dad and Mom were devastated to learn their baby boy was “handicapped,” but Brandon took it in stride.  Mom cried the first time she put in his hearing aids, but Brandon barely seemed to notice them...just busily began playing with a new toy.  Seeing him react to things...hearing birds sing and noticing the music box Mom played when she put him to bed...was exciting, but his parents still worried that his future would be limited...that he’d have a hard time fitting in.  Brandon knew better.  He wasn’t going to let a little thing like being “different” hold him back---and he never did.

He started preschool in a special class at Arovista Elementary with the most gifted teacher any child could ever ask for. Coming to school every day was a delight, and little Brandon thrived.  He had bright yellow hair and the biggest grin, and everyone wanted to hug him.  He got to be “circle leader” and “scientist,” grew bean sprouts, acted in plays and made friends.  At last he could hear the stories he’d never understood before, and try to sing songs that still sometimes were hard.  His natural window of language learning already had closed, and it was difficult to make up for time missed.  Still, he loved every minute of his learning, adding vocabulary words one by one.  Here he first met his hearing-impaired teacher Sue Ann Cross, who would travel with him throughout his school career---always his mentor and supporter, and in the end---one of his most faithful friends. 

Already, by this age, Brandon knew many things about himself.  He knew that the world fascinated him.  Whenever he went anywhere and wanted to know about anything, he’d run up to it and chirp, “How do dat?” ---always drawing smiles all around.  He knew that he respected those who helped him and wanted to do right by them, and didn’t care for it when others---at least in his mind---did otherwise.  When some of the preschool students hit his beloved “Teacher” he came home with what---for him---was an unusual request.  He wanted to dress up as Dracula for Halloween---so he could “bite the bad boys.”  He stayed at Arovista through kindergarten and first grade, having more good times, going on great field trips, bringing the class rat home for the weekend, and gradually growing more adept at spoken language.  By the time he was six, he could talk in complete sentences, and always, after that, had a great deal to say.     

Brandon “came back” to his neighborhood elementary school for second grade.  He couldn’t yet read, but, with the help of more wonderful teachers, made more than two years of progress in his first year at Fanning.  Words on a page made sense to him now, and---as time passed---they, too, became good friends.  He “shared” his puppy Winnie,  picked apples at Grandma and Grandpa’s house for his classmates, baked cookies and offered them to all for his birthday, joined Boy Scouts, always was kind to everyone, and wrote, “I will help other people, make lots of friends, help my family, keep my room clean and feed my cat.”  True to his word, that’s what he did. 

His remaining years at Fanning saw him grow in stature and accomplishment.  He still had a hard time writing, and sometimes spoke with his words out of order.  All his life, his phrasing sometimes was odd, a little “Yoda-like,” with extra words and some backing into sentences.  He loved supporting his school, running laps in its jog-a-thons.  He was ecstatic to join the band, re-formed at Fanning just in time for him to take part.  He chose to learn trumpet and had a great sense of rhythm, though his hearing made it tough to tell  if notes were sharp or flat.  He had marvelous teachers and did well in class, learned computers and painted ceramics, took his DARE lessons to heart, worked his way to the top in every Read-a-Thon and almost always made Honor Roll.

A special education student due to his hearing loss, he qualified for the gifted and talented program, which made him especially unique.  In GATE, he took after-school classes in art and history and chess.  He played city league baseball and  NJB basketball, but found his imperfect hearing made team sports hard.  He adored his hobbies: building with Legos, playing video games, sketching sci-fi scenes or “shooting cars, planes, boats and trains.”  He loved romping with his dog, playing roller hockey with sister Amy, reading big, fat books and going places with the family. 

By junior high, he wore glasses and braces and was shorter than most his age.  It could have made him self-conscious, but he never quite seemed to care.  He was busy with homework and Scouts, playing percussion in the school band, starting karate, and getting more into computers.  He became amazingly fast at “keyboarding,” --- his long, slender fingers flying over the keys.  He began using software to compose long pieces of orchestral music.  He played video and computer games with great glee, and was proud to “beta test” a new game in a group that otherwise included all adults.  He loved the TV show JAG, and aspired to be a Judge Adjutant General.  He was inducted into National Junior Honor Society, and became the first student in his class named as Rotary Junior Citizen of the Month.  He spent all of his lunch hours tutoring, and won awards on honors night that made him feel respected. 

His first year in high school brought him one thing that forever after gave him joy---and that was marching band.  It was here that his friends were, and here that he had the joy of being be part of a group that worked hard and met with success.  A four-year member of the “Brea Olinda High School Mighty Wildcat Matching Band,” he carried the biggest bass drum, and also was enrolled each year in percussion ensemble.  He was a band officer, cataloged the band music, worked every fund raiser, came early and stayed late to help load and pack up for every football game, field show, parade, concert and competition, and just generally gave his heart to the group in its every effort.

Straying off the expected course, he found or created school activities that interested him.   Growing up hearing impaired, he’d always wanted to study sign language, and persuaded  school administrators to let him substitute it for his “foreign language” requirement.   He signed on as a volunteer for the WASC accreditation effort, and loved working side by side with staff members and parents...conducting surveys, assessing data and otherwise determining his school’s fitness.  He discovered his campus had no viable internet presence, and persuaded the vice principal to let him take on the task himself.  By his junior year, the school’s website had been transformed into a widely used communication tool---with Brandon as its webmaster.  His shared his technology skills often at school, helping staff members set up hardware, install software and troubleshoot systems, preparing charts and graphs for the WASC report, and assisting the counseling department in creating state and national “report cards,” all of which won major awards. 

Few hearing-impaired students do well in school, but Brandon took honors and AP classes and graduated with a 3.6 grade point average.  He didn’t drive himself as hard as some, but enjoyed his time, balancing school work with contributions to campus and community.  He was one of the first four in his class inducted into National Honor Society, and was honored at graduation with the Mayor’s Youth Community Service Award (for 500 hours of volunteerism), the Marine Corps Semper Fi award (for musical excellence) and a special first-time technology award created just for him by school administration. 

By commencement, Brandon had been in Brea schools for 15 years, starting when he’d just turned four and could speak almost no words, and graduating with a future that seemed full of promise.  He spent the summer brushing up on academic skills, doing volunteer work and having the time of his life at SuperCamp! Colorado college forum, and was poised to start a new chapter of his life when his brain tumor was diagnosed.   

In the ten months that followed, Brandon underwent five major surgeries and suffered a hemorrhage so large that it stopped his heart, paralyzed his right side and took away enough of his vision to render him legally blind.  Weakness in his swallow created the need for more surgeries---a tracheostomy and then a stomach tube.  He worked hard in rehab, standing and finally taking a few steps, exercising his near-useless hand and arm until they became strong again.  His upbeat and appreciative attitude endeared him to all he met, and he became a fast favorite with all his doctors and nurses.  He came home and worked even harder, lifting weights and walking farther each day, gradually getting his life back.  He did throat exercises over and over, recovering his swallow in two months instead of the six months or more his specialist had predicted.   How he savored those first few meals he’d had in almost 70 days! 

He underwent radiation and drug therapy, exercised and ate well, took his supplements, meditated, had acupuncture and generally did all he could to get well, and---for a time---it seemed to be working.  His inoperable, golf-ball sized tumor shrank to the size of a grape...and then seemed to disappear.  During those good months, he enjoyed life immensely, going places and doing things, renewing friendships and taking up old hobbies...bonding with his family.  He was honored in early March with the high school PTSA’s “Very Special Person” award for work he’d done on the website, and looked forward to having a chance to get back to volunteering again.

But that’s not how things worked out.  The cancer that seemed to be in remission instead had remained active, and in a short span of time had spread.  Brandon underwent yet more drug and radiation therapy, but the disease could not be stopped.  

During the early days of his first hospitalization, and in the months that followed, e-mails of Brandon’s progress had been sent out to family and friends.  His courage through the difficult days of his treatment and rehabilitation, and the great joy with which he embraced his life, inspired many to better cherish their own.

In recognition of his past accomplishments in karate and the character and courage with which he faced his illness, Brandon was awarded his Shodan First Degree Black Belt in Gojo Shin-Ryu by the American Martial Arts Academy on June 22.  In the days that followed, he enjoyed visits by many of those he long had loved well, and he passed from this world on June 26.  

Helping people always was one of Brandon’s great loves.  Even in death, he continued that lifelong mission by donating his corneas---all that he had left to offer---so that someone he’d never met might regain the precious gift of sight.