Brent Ganger

My name is Brent Ganger, and I'd like to share some thoughts from the eulogy that I gave on my sister's behalf this past Saturday.

When I think of Renee, I think of dandelions and sunlight.

Dandelions don't ask permission to grow.

They push through cracks in the sidewalk, through hard soil, through places where you don't expect beauty, and suddenly there they are, bright, alive, unapologetically hopeful.

That was Renee.

And sunlight, warm, steady, life-giving, because when she walked in a room, things felt lighter, even on cloudy days.

Renee had a way of showing up in the world that made you believe things were going to be okay.

Not because she ignored the hardship, but because she chose optimism anyway.

She chose to look for what was good, what was possible, and what was worth loving.

Nene loved fiercely, openly, and without hesitation.

As a mother, Renee poured herself into love.

The kind of love that shows up every day, that sacrifices quietly, that cheers loudly, that believes deeply.

Her children were and are her heart.

Walking around outside her body.

And she made sure they felt safe, valued,

and endlessly loved.

As a sister, she was constant.

Someone you could lean on, laugh with, or just sit in silence beside.

She had a way of making you feel understood even when you didn't have the words yet.

She didn't just listen, she saw you.