CPL Bryant Jordan "B.J." Luxmore
November 3, 1986- June 10, 2012
B.J. had always wanted to serve, but his parents asked him to go to college first. After graduating from Illinois College, he knew that joining the Army was still what he was meant to do. He joined the Army in April 2011 as an infantryman and was assigned to the 1st Battalion, 64th Armor Regiment, 2nd Brigade Combat Team, 3rd Infantry Division, Fort Stewart, Georgia. B.J. was deployed to Afghanistan in March of 2012 and was killed on June 10, 2012. It was his first deployment. Upon finishing his enlistment, B.J. had hoped to move back to the community he loved and go into law enforcement. He couldn’t wait to have more kids, and his bucket list included riding a bull at the New Windsor Rodeo and climbing Mount Luxmore in New Zealand.
B.J. was a homebody, and family always came first for him. His only brother, Brock, was his lifelong best friend. He loved his mom, and he looked up to his dad. B.J. enjoyed nothing more than being at home with his family, no matter what we were doing. He was never afraid to miss out on something by not going out, because he knew what was really important was right there at home with him. B.J.’s team leader wrote to me after he was killed and said, “Even before we deployed I would always ask him if he wanted to go to the bars with me, and he would always say, ‘No, I’d rather be home with Jaimie and Lane.’ I would argue that he had years to spend with you and Lane, but he would say something corny like ‘even a hundred years wouldn’t be long enough.’ He loved you two more than the flowers love the sun. If I am ever lucky enough to have what you and B.J. had, then I will consider my life perfect.” B.J. and I shared more love in the short time we had with each other than most people get to experience in a lifetime, and I will be forever thankful for that.
B.J. was a huge sports fan, and he loved the St. Louis Cardinals. He played football and baseball at Sherrard High School, and he continued his baseball career at the collegiate level at Monmouth College and Illinois College. He loved teaching his son, Lane, to play baseball, and he passed his love of baseball onto Lane. He was so excited to be able to coach Lane’s baseball teams one day and couldn’t wait for him to really get into the sport. Lane played his very first tee ball game the day before B.J. was killed. B.J. would be so proud of the little ball player that Lane has become.
B.J. was definitely a hometown boy. He was so proud of the small farming community that he came from, and he couldn’t wait to get back to it. He told me once while on deployment, “I miss home. I can’t wait to get back there. I think I’ll be so excited, I’ll run naked through the lower lot!” After being flown back to Illinois, B.J.’s body was taken past his childhood home, where his parents still live, so he could finally be home. He was laid to rest in a small country cemetery that he helped take care of growing up, and the highway in front of his childhood home is now named in his memory.
B.J. was a quiet hero who was looked up to by everyone who knew him. He took his work very seriously, and he was an amazing soldier. He had a work ethic like no one I’ve ever met. He was organized, and he was always prepared. He did his research on everything. He would do the work of five soldiers and not complain about it one bit. His leaders said within one afternoon of meeting B.J., they could tell he was something special and had a gift for the job. He was a rarity in the Army, a diamond among coal, but he was humble. He knew he was smart, but he didn’t pretend to know everything. He was always willing to learn. His team leader said, “He made weak leaders look like strong leaders and he made strong leaders look like Gods of war. He was just that good.”
B.J. had an amazing sense of humor and quick wit that made him so much fun to be around. It took B.J. a little while to open up to people. He seemed very serious when you first met him, but once he was comfortable around you, he was hilarious. He could lighten any mood and make you laugh until you cried, and he had a beautiful smile with these big dimples that just melted your heart.
B.J.’s motto was “If you don’t live for something, you will die for nothing,” and it is inscribed on his headstone. B.J. lived, fought and died for his family, his brothers, his friends and you. Please never forget his sacrifice. The thing we want more than anything as a Gold Star Family is for B.J. to never be forgotten and for people to know his story.
I miss so much about B.J. The way he walked, the way he stood, the way he tapped the bottom of his beer can when he drank, his one-liners, his cowboy boot coozie, the way he’d tap his index finger on your chest when he was talking to you seriously, his dimpled grin, the way he left spitters EVERYWHERE, the me that hasn’t been here since he was.. I miss it all so much. Thank you for allowing me to share him with you.
November 3, 1986- June 10, 2012
B.J. had always wanted to serve, but his parents asked him to go to college first. After graduating from Illinois College, he knew that joining the Army was still what he was meant to do. He joined the Army in April 2011 as an infantryman and was assigned to the 1st Battalion, 64th Armor Regiment, 2nd Brigade Combat Team, 3rd Infantry Division, Fort Stewart, Georgia. B.J. was deployed to Afghanistan in March of 2012 and was killed on June 10, 2012. It was his first deployment. Upon finishing his enlistment, B.J. had hoped to move back to the community he loved and go into law enforcement. He couldn’t wait to have more kids, and his bucket list included riding a bull at the New Windsor Rodeo and climbing Mount Luxmore in New Zealand.
B.J. was a homebody, and family always came first for him. His only brother, Brock, was his lifelong best friend. He loved his mom, and he looked up to his dad. B.J. enjoyed nothing more than being at home with his family, no matter what we were doing. He was never afraid to miss out on something by not going out, because he knew what was really important was right there at home with him. B.J.’s team leader wrote to me after he was killed and said, “Even before we deployed I would always ask him if he wanted to go to the bars with me, and he would always say, ‘No, I’d rather be home with Jaimie and Lane.’ I would argue that he had years to spend with you and Lane, but he would say something corny like ‘even a hundred years wouldn’t be long enough.’ He loved you two more than the flowers love the sun. If I am ever lucky enough to have what you and B.J. had, then I will consider my life perfect.” B.J. and I shared more love in the short time we had with each other than most people get to experience in a lifetime, and I will be forever thankful for that.
B.J. was a huge sports fan, and he loved the St. Louis Cardinals. He played football and baseball at Sherrard High School, and he continued his baseball career at the collegiate level at Monmouth College and Illinois College. He loved teaching his son, Lane, to play baseball, and he passed his love of baseball onto Lane. He was so excited to be able to coach Lane’s baseball teams one day and couldn’t wait for him to really get into the sport. Lane played his very first tee ball game the day before B.J. was killed. B.J. would be so proud of the little ball player that Lane has become.
B.J. was definitely a hometown boy. He was so proud of the small farming community that he came from, and he couldn’t wait to get back to it. He told me once while on deployment, “I miss home. I can’t wait to get back there. I think I’ll be so excited, I’ll run naked through the lower lot!” After being flown back to Illinois, B.J.’s body was taken past his childhood home, where his parents still live, so he could finally be home. He was laid to rest in a small country cemetery that he helped take care of growing up, and the highway in front of his childhood home is now named in his memory.
B.J. was a quiet hero who was looked up to by everyone who knew him. He took his work very seriously, and he was an amazing soldier. He had a work ethic like no one I’ve ever met. He was organized, and he was always prepared. He did his research on everything. He would do the work of five soldiers and not complain about it one bit. His leaders said within one afternoon of meeting B.J., they could tell he was something special and had a gift for the job. He was a rarity in the Army, a diamond among coal, but he was humble. He knew he was smart, but he didn’t pretend to know everything. He was always willing to learn. His team leader said, “He made weak leaders look like strong leaders and he made strong leaders look like Gods of war. He was just that good.”
B.J. had an amazing sense of humor and quick wit that made him so much fun to be around. It took B.J. a little while to open up to people. He seemed very serious when you first met him, but once he was comfortable around you, he was hilarious. He could lighten any mood and make you laugh until you cried, and he had a beautiful smile with these big dimples that just melted your heart.
B.J.’s motto was “If you don’t live for something, you will die for nothing,” and it is inscribed on his headstone. B.J. lived, fought and died for his family, his brothers, his friends and you. Please never forget his sacrifice. The thing we want more than anything as a Gold Star Family is for B.J. to never be forgotten and for people to know his story.
I miss so much about B.J. The way he walked, the way he stood, the way he tapped the bottom of his beer can when he drank, his one-liners, his cowboy boot coozie, the way he’d tap his index finger on your chest when he was talking to you seriously, his dimpled grin, the way he left spitters EVERYWHERE, the me that hasn’t been here since he was.. I miss it all so much. Thank you for allowing me to share him with you.
November 3, 1986- June 10, 2012
B.J. had always wanted to serve, but his parents asked him to go to college first. After graduating from Illinois College, he knew that joining the Army was still what he was meant to do. He joined the Army in April 2011 as an infantryman and was assigned to the 1st Battalion, 64th Armor Regiment, 2nd Brigade Combat Team, 3rd Infantry Division, Fort Stewart, Georgia. B.J. was deployed to Afghanistan in March of 2012 and was killed on June 10, 2012. It was his first deployment. Upon finishing his enlistment, B.J. had hoped to move back to the community he loved and go into law enforcement. He couldn’t wait to have more kids, and his bucket list included riding a bull at the New Windsor Rodeo and climbing Mount Luxmore in New Zealand.
B.J. was a homebody, and family always came first for him. His only brother, Brock, was his lifelong best friend. He loved his mom, and he looked up to his dad. B.J. enjoyed nothing more than being at home with his family, no matter what we were doing. He was never afraid to miss out on something by not going out, because he knew what was really important was right there at home with him. B.J.’s team leader wrote to me after he was killed and said, “Even before we deployed I would always ask him if he wanted to go to the bars with me, and he would always say, ‘No, I’d rather be home with Jaimie and Lane.’ I would argue that he had years to spend with you and Lane, but he would say something corny like ‘even a hundred years wouldn’t be long enough.’ He loved you two more than the flowers love the sun. If I am ever lucky enough to have what you and B.J. had, then I will consider my life perfect.” B.J. and I shared more love in the short time we had with each other than most people get to experience in a lifetime, and I will be forever thankful for that.
B.J. was a huge sports fan, and he loved the St. Louis Cardinals. He played football and baseball at Sherrard High School, and he continued his baseball career at the collegiate level at Monmouth College and Illinois College. He loved teaching his son, Lane, to play baseball, and he passed his love of baseball onto Lane. He was so excited to be able to coach Lane’s baseball teams one day and couldn’t wait for him to really get into the sport. Lane played his very first tee ball game the day before B.J. was killed. B.J. would be so proud of the little ball player that Lane has become.
B.J. was definitely a hometown boy. He was so proud of the small farming community that he came from, and he couldn’t wait to get back to it. He told me once while on deployment, “I miss home. I can’t wait to get back there. I think I’ll be so excited, I’ll run naked through the lower lot!” After being flown back to Illinois, B.J.’s body was taken past his childhood home, where his parents still live, so he could finally be home. He was laid to rest in a small country cemetery that he helped take care of growing up, and the highway in front of his childhood home is now named in his memory.
B.J. was a quiet hero who was looked up to by everyone who knew him. He took his work very seriously, and he was an amazing soldier. He had a work ethic like no one I’ve ever met. He was organized, and he was always prepared. He did his research on everything. He would do the work of five soldiers and not complain about it one bit. His leaders said within one afternoon of meeting B.J., they could tell he was something special and had a gift for the job. He was a rarity in the Army, a diamond among coal, but he was humble. He knew he was smart, but he didn’t pretend to know everything. He was always willing to learn. His team leader said, “He made weak leaders look like strong leaders and he made strong leaders look like Gods of war. He was just that good.”
B.J. had an amazing sense of humor and quick wit that made him so much fun to be around. It took B.J. a little while to open up to people. He seemed very serious when you first met him, but once he was comfortable around you, he was hilarious. He could lighten any mood and make you laugh until you cried, and he had a beautiful smile with these big dimples that just melted your heart.
B.J.’s motto was “If you don’t live for something, you will die for nothing,” and it is inscribed on his headstone. B.J. lived, fought and died for his family, his brothers, his friends and you. Please never forget his sacrifice. The thing we want more than anything as a Gold Star Family is for B.J. to never be forgotten and for people to know his story.
I miss so much about B.J. The way he walked, the way he stood, the way he tapped the bottom of his beer can when he drank, his one-liners, his cowboy boot coozie, the way he’d tap his index finger on your chest when he was talking to you seriously, his dimpled grin, the way he left spitters EVERYWHERE, the me that hasn’t been here since he was.. I miss it all so much. Thank you for allowing me to share him with you.