This is my dad and Tyler in Fiji this past May. The little guy in the middle is their white-water river rafting guide. It rained almost the whole time they were there, but they still had a great time. That trip to Fiji now means even more to my dad than he ever imagined. Tyler asked me to go on that trip as well, but I lacked the funds and the vacation time to make it happen. I wish now that I had done it anyway.
My dad asked me to post what he wrote for Tyler's 'Celebration of Life' that took place on November 10th in Carmel, Indiana. It's a wonderful piece. He read it aloud to the crowd at the celebration, but he wanted to get it out to a wider audience. Of course I'm happy to oblige. Please read on...
A Father’s Guide
In memory of Tyler Fulton Ward
Born January 21, 1972, Died November 6, 2008
Everybody knew Tyler. You needed only to meet him for the first time to know him. To all he was respectful and considerate. To his friends, he was special; fun to be with, supportive and giving when the times and caring called for it. There was no need to ask. He was just there to give of himself, that which the times and place required; no questions, no hesitation, no waiting; just doing. And his family of friends never stopped growing; only extending in a way that matched his outreach to others.
Even first-time acquaintances walked away feeling as though they had made a new friend. His spontaneous wit and accompanying facial expressions ambushed funny bones and framed friendships everywhere. Words were rarely a part of his humor. In fact, engaging Tyler in conversation was frequently a challenge met with sparing responses, often clipped as though half of a yes, or no, were all that was required.
At the same time, once engaged, words, phrases and sentences flowed in a flood of ideas that shaped an ideology about a better world. Tyler’s inner struggles were intense, frequently painful yet always toward betterment. Many of his thoughts were expressed in absolutes, others were exploratory and yet others were left open for further examination at another time and in another visit. Tyler never stopped struggling to find meaning in life, his pursuit always constructive, never destructive.
While in many ways his thoughts were private, reserved for those who earned his trust, there was little that was secretive about Tyler. In a world daily spinning forth with a mix of new ideas and fresh offerings about how things ought to be, Tyler sought simplicity in its meaning. And with an inner power, an essence best described as resembling that of the Native Americans and their spiritual, yet earthly connection to this world, he never lost hope in the pursuit of his dreams.
His inner struggle was a private one shared fully with only a few, though there is one person Tyler trusted fully with thoughts of hope and happiness – his sister, Dionne. Often, she was my source of what was up with her brother. The closeness they shared is typically found only with twins. Ginny and I took great pride and comfort in what was a relationship tethered by love and text-messaging.
For Ty his journey ended several days ago in his death. His passing is to me a freak of nature. In the natural scheme of things I would go before him. At the same time, I have had an opportunity during this ambush of nature to more fully appreciate Ty through a renewal with some of his friends, like Mandy and Jihyun – and others I have met only recently – Suzanne, Ruth, Andy, and Steve – about who I had heard much. While there are many others I know by name and story only, it is in them that I find Ty.
Though Ty and I were separated by a physical distance between here and the West Coast that spanned 25 years, that distance never interrupted our talks. Those times were part of an unbroken exchange between Father and Son. There was no pause each time we met as in – now where were we -- but rather more like a pause before completing a sentence. In our talks I listened to the anger that comes from impatience and the hope that comes from the chase, never challenging either, only listening.
While our time together was not of the design I had envisioned, a transformation did take place during the time we had, which transition is perhaps best illustrated by a couple of stories.
When Tyler was a junior in high school, I took him to Turkey for a sailing trip in the Aegean Sea. Dutifully, he brought his schoolbooks. I suggested he put aside the books for a different kind of education. That schooling included exposing him to a different culture where the people were the same, only there the language and ways differed from what he knew. The experience included his first shave – by a Turkish barber – something we did together each morning to start the day.
It felt right then to be a guide to my son through a sea of knowledge. One filled with history, mystery and mythology. He came away from that experience a citizen of the world.
Only this last May when we traveled to Fiji -- where we shared yet another foreign culture of learning -- did he become the guide. There, in torrential rain we went white water rafting in the jungle-laden waters – as in Romancing the Stone – where the Fijian villagers knew no passage to markets except by water.
At the launch I expected to be positioned at the bow of the raft because of my experience in white water. Instead, I was placed at the center of the raft and without a paddle. When I objected, Tyler pulled me aside and said, “I think in this culture, Dad, you’re being seated in a place of honor, in recognition of your age.”
This was the time of transformation between Father and Son. Tyler was now instructing me. He was now my guide to the world. And he will be that for me – and perhaps for many of you – until the day our ashes are scattered on this Earth.
And our pursuit for meaning in life, as with Tyler’s, is left behind as inspiration for those who follow; to continue and ultimately, with the force of Tyler’s spirituality, to search for meaning in this life and to never give up the chase.
- Dale Ward
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