A sister's ponderings

This is a picture I took in Sedona, Arizona last year. I would have put up a picture of Tyler, but they are all on my hard drive at home and I'm still at work. Tyler always had an affinity for Arizona. He talked a lot about moving there. We're planning on spreading his ashes somewhere in the desert state, but haven't settled on an exact location or date yet. Hopefully that will be worked out soon. I don't really know if it's called the desert state; I just made that up. When I visit my Aunt Esther in Phoenix, it feels like the desert, but Sedona is very different. It all about the elevation, I suppose.

Today was a difficult day. I received something in the mail; something we ordered. It is the season of giving, after all. I can't really tell you what I received because...well, some people who might be receiving the forementioned something, might also be reading this blog. Anyway, this 'something' reminded me of Tyler and the flood gates opened up again. I managed to close them before I had a really good cry and that's probably not a good thing. They opened up again later, at work, also not a good thing. I was going back through my Facebook inbox. For some reason I thought maybe there was a message I should have responded to, but hadn't yet. While I was scanning through the messages, I saw Tyler's name. I opened the thread and read the messages we had written to each other between September 30th and October 5th. We were just chatting about what we had both been doing and Tyler had mentioned the possibility of needing to have sinus surgery. He was having a problem that we now know was probably related to the tumor in the back of his neck. I remember being mildly concerned about the prospect of surgey, but wanting to know more details. He told me he was going back to the doctor and that he would let me know the outcome. That was October 5th, five days before he passed out at work and was sent to the hospital. Many thoughts keep jumping into my head. Should I have encouraged him to be more proactive with the doctors? Should I have asked him more questions about the problems he was having? What more could I have done and could it have changed the final outcome??? I will never know and that's a little maddening at times.

I know there's nothing that can be done to bring him back, but I often wonder if there should be an investigation into what the hell happened? The surgery went very well and he was recovering well initially. I still have to wonder if someone screwed up somewhere along the way. This is just me channeling my ponderings into the words you're reading. Maybe I should think on it a bit more. I'll get back to you...