
The People We Don’t See Still Matter
A reflection on loss, dignity, and the quiet strength of our Pierce County community
Dear Friends,
With great sadness, I share the passing of Brandon—one of the very first individuals connected to the beginning of Eloise’s Cooking Pot Food Bank.
Brandon was not just a client. He was part of the foundation of this work. I had the privilege of knowing him from the very beginning—when he was a tenant in the building where john and Lillie once lived, long before Eloise’s became what it is today. He was one of our founding clients, and from that point forward, his life became intertwined with our mission.
Brandon was an amazing father to his two daughters. He did everything within his means to make sure they had love, stability, and a safe place to call home. Like so many in our community, his life was not without challenges. He faced mental health struggles and periods of transition, yet even in those moments, he remained kind, respectful, and deeply human.
It was an honor to serve him.
And I want to be clear—when we talk about service, we are not just talking about food. We are talking about dignity. We are talking about consistency. We are talking about making sure someone is seen, known, and cared for—every single day.
Brandon taught me some of the greatest lessons I carry with me today.
He taught me humility.
He showed me the true power of community.
He reminded me that kindness is still possible, no matter your circumstances.
And perhaps most powerfully, he showed me what it means to “hide in plain sight.”
There are so many Brandons in our communities—people who are struggling quietly, navigating mental health challenges, housing instability, or loss—yet still showing up each day with strength we often overlook. They are not always visible. They are not always loud. But they are there.
And they matter.
Brandon mattered.
As I reflect on his life, I am also reflecting on the responsibility we carry as a community. Food insecurity is not just about access to meals—it is about access to care, to connection, to systems that do not overlook people who are most vulnerable. It is about ensuring that no one slips through the cracks simply because their struggle is not immediately visible.
At Eloise’s Cooking Pot Food Bank, we strive every day to meet people where they are. Whether through a box of food, a pair of shoes, or simply a moment of conversation, the goal is always the same: to remind people that they are not forgotten.
I want to personally thank our staff and volunteers who showed up for Brandon day after day—making sure he had food, clothing, and support. As I stepped away from daily operations, it meant everything to know that he was still being cared for with dignity and compassion.
This loss is especially heavy for me. In the past six months, we have lost two individuals who were part of the very beginning of this journey. These are not just names. These are lives that helped shape the purpose behind everything we do.
My heart is broken.
But even in this grief, I am reminded of why this work matters.
I ask our Pierce County community to do something simple but powerful: check on one another. Extend grace. Lead with kindness. Be aware that the people around you may be carrying more than you can see.
Please keep Brandon’s daughters, grandchildren, and loved ones in your prayers.
May his memory live on—not just in our hearts, but in how we choose to show up for others.
Because if Brandon taught us anything, it’s this: even in the hardest seasons, there is still room for joy, for dignity, and for love.
With love and purpose,
Ahndrea L. Blue
President & CEO
Making A Difference Foundation
Eloise’s Cooking Pot Food Bank