An unexpected connection

This picture was taken the week before Tyler had surgery. It may have even been the day before. I can't remember now. The pictures taken on that day are sometimes harder to look at than any other pictures I have of Tyler. (The ones of him as a small child are a close second though.) I think back to how I felt during that week. I was nervous but very optimistic. Somehow being around him, and being around all the other mostly hopeful family members, made me think it would all turn out fine. The night I found out about his tumor I was at work. I think I was in shock after the phone call from my mom. I went out with a friend after work and we toasted to Tyler with a shot of tequila. When I got home, I completely lost my composure. Actually, I think I lost it in the car on the way home. I cried harder that night than I ever have...at least up until that point in my life. I just had a really bad gut feeling that night. Little did I know just how accurate that feeling was.

I found an old friend or family friend, or...well, I'm not sure what to call him. We recently reconnected on Facebook and he sent me a message about Tyler. He had lost his sister in 2007 and he had the same kind of relationship with her that I had with Tyler. He said, "She was the closest person to me on the planet from whose loss I will never recover in this lifetime. That closeness was evident to anyone who had the privilege of spending 1 minute around you and Tyler together. So I figure if there's anyone that can feel my pain it would be you. I send you love, and and open offering of anything I can do to help. If nothing else I lend my ear if at anytime you just need someone to listen." He also said, "Your brother was a wonderful, wonderful man with whom I've never had one ill moment, and whose company I enjoyed immensely." Reading his message made me cry. It was nice to connect with someone who knows exactly what I'm feeling. If you're reading this blog, you know who you are and I thank you for reaching out.

I want to send out many thanks again to my friends and family for their continued support. It means the world to me. You know who you are!!!

This was taken in Edmonton, Alberta in August 2008. We were standing our grandmother's backyard reminiscing about the times we played out there as kids. Still kids at heart, we joked with each other the same way we had for years. The picture isn't great of either one of us, but I love it for the closeness it shows.

I was sitting here listening to the rain fall, not a common occurrence here in Burbank, and I remembered sitting on my grandmother's front porch with Tyler. That's what made me want to write a 'Tyler' blog post. I know I've written about that day before. It was the first day we arrived in Edmonton and I was so excited about the possibility of rain showers. Tyler was used to them, as they are a lot more frequent in Indianapolis, but he still sat out on the porch with me to experience it. I've said this before too...I am so grateful for that trip.

Some days I wish I could turn back the clock. I want to go back and tell Tyler about the tumor in the back of his head. I want to go back far enough so I can tell him about before it gets too big. Then maybe they could have removed it without incident. Then maybe it could have been as simple as taking out a wisdom tooth. If I only I could go back, I would do anything to change the final outcome. Anything...

Happy Birthday, Ty

Today we went on a hike to celebrate Tyler's birthday and to pay homage to his too short life of 36 years. He had such a major impact on so many lives, and he was admired and loved by all of them. He would have been 37 today...

This was one of the views from the top of the very steep climb. We sat for a while and took in the sounds. The wind, the birds, and the beautiful sound of silence. I walked over to one side and took this photo. I had put a small portion of Tyler's ashes in a little baggie and I had it tightly clenched in my hand. It took me a few minutes to convince myself that I had brought it with me to leave it behind and I needed to let it go. I inched down the side of the hill a little and stood still again for a time, holding the little baggie in my palm. I opened it and held it in my hand for another minute or two. Then I took it by the bottom edge and, with a sweeping motion, I scattered the contents out in front of me. At precisely that moment I looked up and there were two hawks soaring directly above my head. One of them called out and the sound echoed against the hills. My breath caught in my throat. I had asked Tyler to give me a sign of his presence and I knew that was it. He knew that would get my attention. I had been crying before that moment, but seeing the hawks circling above me brought more tears. I was instantly filled up with his energy and I smiled up at the sky. I remember pointing out hawks to him on many occasions. He teased me about my fascination at first, but then he came to appreciate my affinity for them. After a while I think he started to look for them himself.

Thank you to everyone who lit their candles and sent Tyler birthday wishes today. I did light a candle later. I let it burn while I was getting ready for work. I imagined it on a birthday cake and when I blew it out I said, 'Happy Birthday, Ty.'

Bye, bye. Don't let the shoe hit you in the head...

Hey Ty! Did you see it? Did you see his final wave to the crowd as he boarded the helicopter and flew off to unpresidentialness land? I hope you could be a witness to this historic day on some level. I know you waited a long time to see him go. We have hope that our new president will create the change we need too see in this country. I also hope he's having a stiff drink right now because he's got his work cut out for him. I wish you could have been here in earthly form to see the inauguration. I thought about how happy you would be watching it all go down.

Sayonara, George W. I wish I could say the shoe hit you on the way out, but alas, it did not. Hopefully you will be held karmically responsible for all the damage you've done to this country. Can you see to that, Ty? ;-)

Happy early birthday, little brother. The shrub has been weeded from our government garden.

Light a candle, or...

Tyler's birthday is January 21st. He would have turned 37 this year. It breaks my heart every time I think about it and the tears come instantly. I was getting ready for work today and I had to choke back a sob that spontaneously came out of me. I know I've said this a million times, but I still can't believe he's gone. I came across some photos of me on Facebook that Tyler had added and tagged. He had put captions on a lot of them and that made me laugh. Some of the pictures even had comments on them where we had made smart ass remarks to each other about the content. That made me cry. I sit here now and shake my head in disbelief. How did this happen? I'll never know, but I'll continue to ask.

To celebrate Tyler's life on his birthday, my mom and step-dad came up with an idea to light a candle and let it burn down until it goes out on its own. They are asking friends and family to do the same. Their candle will be lit at about 5pm Indiana time. That's 2pm on the West coast, 3pm in Phoenix and Edmonton, 4pm in Chicago...you can figure out the rest from there. If this is something you want to do, I encourage you to do it. I'm not sure lighting a candle is the right thing for me. I mean no offense to my parents, or anyone else, by saying that. Tyler's memory burns strong in my heart and it will never be extinguished. I just don't think I can light a candle and watch it burn out. It's too symbolic of what is gone, not what remains. I am planning my own ceremony of sorts, with Martine. We're going to hike up to the top of a hill that overlooks the San Fernando Valley. Some would call it a mountain, but I've been told by the locals that it's just a hill. Believe me, it feels like a mountain when I'm hiking to the top. Tyler will be with me as I trudge up that steep incline. I'm not sure what that trek will hold for me when I get to the top, but it will bring me symbolically closer to him. That's where I want to be on that day of his birth.

Whether you decide to light a candle, hike to the top of a mountain, or come up with your own way of remembering Tyler's birthday, I thank you for loving him and honoring him with your memories.

A fierce love

This picture was taken in October of 2006. A group of us went to The Melting Pot for my birthday dinner. I moved out of Indy less than a month later and I haven't spent much time looking back. I miss some things about it. Now I miss the time I could have had with Tyler if I hadn't moved away, but it was a good move for me. I always thought there would be more time. We went to The Melting Pot again for my birthday this year. We were in Indy for Tyler's surgery. The mood wasn't as celebratory as it had been two years prior, but that night we still had hope. That day Tyler had mouthed 'Happy Birthday' and 'I love you' to me from his ICU bed. None of us had any idea of what was to come...

Martine and I were watching Oprah today. I was sort of watching as I did other things around the apartment. I was listening to the story of a couple who had lost one of their sons in a tragic accident. He was only 20 and he was only thirty minutes from the airport when it happened. He was supposed to board a plane that would take him home and he never made it. Instantly I felt for them. I would have felt for them had I heard their story a year ago, but today I felt it on a whole new level. I was listening to them talk about how the experience of losing their son had changed them forever. The mother said something that really struck me. She said your grief over the loss of a loved one is a testament to how much you loved that person. It will always be with you should be worn like a badge. I could relate to everything they said and, in a way, it felt good. I have a great support system, but some days I feel alone in my grief. Listening to them reminded me that I am no alone.

I also got an email from my mom today. It made me sad for her and what she is going through. I've talked before about how my grief is different from that of my parents, but it's also the same in many ways. We all loved Tyler very much and he loved all of us with a fierce love. We all need to know that and burn it into our memories, so it is always with us. No doubts and no regrets.

Grief is a living, breathing entity. It is always moving and evolving. The one thing that remains constant is its presence. It may lessen with time, but it will always be there.

Random, but not really...

I laugh every time I see this photo and I see it every day. It's on our photo wall at home. Tyler put on a good 'ick' act, but I know better. He loved those sisterly kisses on his scruffy cheek. Even when we got angry with each other, it would never last long. We relied on each other too much for love and support to let anything come between us.

Last night I'm sitting at dinner with my love. We had just come off of a day in the recording studio and a 6 mile bike ride. We're drinking margaritas and sharing a tostada, and talking about our trip to Australia toward the end of this year. It was an exciting conversation, full of adventures yet to come. I was gazing at her, taking in the external and internal beauty I see every time, and I thought about Tyler. It was one of those moments when I had a fleeting thought about sharing my excitement with him. Telling him about the trip we're planning, telling him about the other adventures we've been discussing, telling him about her and how much she means to me. I started to get tears in my eyes and she asked me what was going on. I didn't tell her about it in that moment. She smiled and grumbled, and told me how difficult it is to get things out of me sometimes. The problem was I knew if I talked about it, I wouldn't be able to stop the flood. I didn't want to cry...in that moment.

Later in the evening we were watching a television show. There was a character who worked in a hospital and they thought he had a brain tumor. Turns out it was only scar tissue, but seeing the hospital setting and hearing the words 'brain tumor' was enough to bring the tears again. This time and let them fall, just for a minute. She knew without me saying it outloud. It was one of those random, but not really...moments.

The images, like lightning

This is Tyler at 15 months, according to the scrawl at the top of the photo. So beautiful. By the time he was this age, I think I was over the issue I had when he was first born. Those of you who have younger siblings may already know what I'm talking about. It's the feeling that you have to compete for your parents' affections and attention. You glare at your younger, seemingly cuter, sibling, with tiny daggers when your parents aren't looking. Obviously I got through that phase. My baby brother became one of the most important people in my world. He still is...even though he is now gone from my physical world.

The waves of grief have been coming more frequently over the past few days. I have images of him jumping into my head without warning. There's no trigger; they just appear like a flash of lightning. Some make me laugh, some make me smile, some make me sick to my stomach, but they all make me cry. Last night on my way home from work, I got an image of him, of his face, the way it looked the moment he died. I don't know why it came to me. Though his pallor was beyond white, he looked at peace, much like he does in this photo. I cried as I drove and I started talking to him, out loud. I think that was the first time I've done that since he passed away. I was telling him about how people keep telling me to talk to him, but that I hadn't quite figured out how to do that... Then I realized I was doing it and I had to chuckle in spite of myself.

I miss him.

I never imagined

Dear Tyler,

I never imagined that grieving the loss of you would be so complex, but then again...I never imagined that I would lose you. I still have trouble believing it really happened and I'll never understand why. I can only think that maybe you were meant for bigger and better things in some alternate existence. Is that true?

So, I acted a fool again last night and I am ashamed. I apologized to everyone who was in range when my meltdown occurred, multiple times to the one who matters most, but I don't really feel better about it. I've been told by many people today not to beat myself up and to go easy on myself. Of course no one is harder on me than I am. We're always our own worst critic, right? I know you were a witness to that many times and you talked me down many times. I wish I could talk to you now. I guess I am talking to you, but I wish I could hear you talk back. I want you to tell me I am strong and I will get through this. I want you to say quit acting a fool, fool!! I'm laughing now because I can hear you quoting Eddie Murphy..."Yeah, Foo, retire!" Damn, we could rattle off movie quotes for days, couldn't we? I digress. I've been introspective all day, trying to figure myself out. Remember Thanksgiving 2007 when you made me promise you I would find a counselor when I got back to California? Thank you for doing that. It did help. I think I may need to do it again for a while. What do you think? Waiting...take your time...I know; I probably don't even need to ask. I just need to do it.

So, what is that you just said? Oh...you can't believe I put this picture up?! I know, it screams 80s, but it also shows how much we care about each other. That's what I like about it. I know you can't believe you were wearing that sweater. Will you look at mine?!?! What's up with the sleeveless sweatshirt look? I just need to pull it down off one shoulder. "She's a Maniac, Manic..." I digress again.

Thanks for listening, Ty. I've been told by many people that I should talk to you. I'm not sure if I've figured out how to do that yet, but this is a start. You were my knight in shining armor on many occasions. Thank you for always looking out for me. I miss you and I love you.

Always,
D