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Fulfilling a destiny, starting a new life

Brad and Melissa Kendell get married, more than two years after the plane crash that took his legs and his dad.

By SHANNON TAN
Published October 24, 2005

	[Times photo: Ted McLaren]
	Brad and Melissa Kendell enter their wedding reception Saturday shortly after getting married. A few moments later, they would be sharing their first dance.

CLEARWATER - She wrapped her arms around his neck. He rested his hands on her waist.

Melissa Ledbetter, 25, didn't know how well she could dance in her wedding dress. Brad Kendell, 24, was going to dance the best he could on his sleek metal legs.

She gazed into his eyes and they kissed. As bubbles floated over their heads, he brushed them off her hair.

Brad swayed from side to side, smiling. Then he spun her around - once, then twice.

Melissa brushed Brad's hair off his forehead. She sang along to the words.

It has been more than two years since the plane crash that killed his father, Bruce, and a friend, Daniel Griffith Jr., near Clearwater Airpark. Passers-by drenched Brad with rainwater, then dragged him from the wreckage seconds before the plane exploded.

Doctors amputated Brad's mangled and burned legs above the knee. They didn't think he would live. His mother, Patti Kendell, and Melissa rushed to his side.

The Rev. Frances Brotherhood was the trauma chaplain at Tampa General Hospital the night of the crash. She has seen how terrible accidents can break up couples, and she knew that Brad and Melissa were going to stay together.

"I had no doubt from the first night I met (Melissa), she was going nowhere," said Brotherhood, who now lives in San Diego. "I could tell."

She told them that if they ever got married, she would conduct the ceremony.

* * *

A year after the crash, Brad threw a "Celebration of Life" party to thank the doctors, nurses and firefighters who had helped him.

Halfway through the party at Bright House Networks Field, Brad asked everyone to turn to the big screen.

Melissa thought he was going to show a slideshow. Instead, a question flashed on the screen.

"Melissa, will you marry me? Love, Brad."

Brad and Melissa had met at the University of South Florida. He was a freshman, she was a sophomore.

Melissa knew they were going to get married someday. But there was so much to overcome first. Brad needed to walk and drive again. She wasn't expecting this so soon.

Patti led Melissa over to Brad, who was waiting in his wheelchair. Brad was shaking so much, he could barely slip the ring on her finger.

The big screen lit up.

"She said yes!"

* * *

Soon, Brad was walking with his new computerized prosthetic legs.

He was driving and working as an estimator for a local construction company. He made the U.S. Disabled Sailing Team. Melissa is a real estate sales coordinator.

Brad and Melissa moved into a condo in Belleair and painted their bedroom walls green.

At first, Brad needed the help of two canes. Then just one cane. He quit therapy in February.

About two months ago, he started walking on his own.

Brad insisted on taking risks. When he fell stepping off a curb or going down a slope, Melissa would instinctively try to catch him.

"Just let me go," he would tell her.

Lately, Brad practiced bending over and picking things up.

Melissa wondered whether he would manage to remove the garter from her knee after the wedding.

* * *

As Hurricane Wilma threatened to ruin their wedding day, family members called Melissa, freaking out. Melissa tried to stay calm. She told herself she didn't mind if it rained. They would just have the ceremony inside.

Brad and Melissa initially wanted to have the wedding on Oct. 15 to mark his father's birthday. But the hotel was booked that weekend. So they went fishing instead, stopping at the spot where his father's ashes were scattered in the gulf. Brad has the exact location marked on his boat's GPS system.

Two months before, on the second anniversary of the crash, they took a boat trip to the same spot in the gulf. They sipped kialoa, a drink Bruce Kendell invented when sailing his 80-foot Kialoa around the world.

Patti read a poem:

Death is nothing at all

I have only slipped into the next room.

* * *

Bruce Kendell's presence was felt throughout Saturday's wedding.

His picture was propped up outside the reception.

Bruce and Melissa lit a candle in his memory.

Patti told Brad he got his taste in women from his father.

Wilma, the uninvited wedding guest, didn't show up.

As Melissa exchanged wedding vows with Brad, she blinked back tears.

To have and to hold, in whatever experiences or circumstances life may hold for them. In laughter and in tears, in conflict and in tranquility.

"I hope they don't have any more experiences," Patti had muttered during the wedding rehearsal.

"Your love together has conquered so many things," Deona Adams, Melissa's maid of honor, said as she toasted the newlyweds. "From here on out, it's going to be smooth sailing."

Later, Brad knelt down on his new legs and slid the garter off Melissa's knee with his teeth.

--Shannon Tan can be reached at shtan@sptimes.com or 727 445-4174.

[Last modified October 24, 2005, 01:14:10]