Never Forgotten

I love how gorgeous Tyler looks in this photo. I was so sure I had posted it before, but I flipped through almost all of my previous posts and I didn't find it. That was hard too...going through the previous posts. When I got to the end, a.k.a. the beginning, Tyler was still alive and desperately wanting to get out of his hospital bed. He wanted to go home. I've said this a bazillion times, but I still can't believe he never left that hospital. He never even left the ICU.

I know I haven't been writing on this blog as much and I know some of you are disappointed. This started out as a way for me to communicate updates on Tyler's condition to friends and family, and after he died, it morphed into a form of grief therapy for me and those who read it. I've loved writing it and probably will continue to makes posts from time to time, but I don't know how often. It will happen when I feel the need to write about it and share those thoughts with others. I'm sorry if this is a let down to anyone, but grief is a living, breathing thing and it evolves. My grief over losing Tyler will always be with me...always...but it will change over time. That doesn't mean that I'm forgetting him. I still think about him daily. I still miss him just as much as I did on the first day he was no longer physically part of my world.

Today Martine and I were rearranging things in the closet and I found two t-shirts of Tyler's that I had kept. One I had given him just this past August. I had bought it for him when I was out on Catalina Island with some friends. I clutched both shirts tightly in my arms for a few seconds and then I cried. My tears over the loss of Tyler will always flow freely. I have felt no greater pain in my lifetime and the scars run deep, to the very core of my soul.

Life and Death

This photo was taken by Tyler's good friend, Ruth Quinde. She said it made her think of him. A lot of things make me think of him, especially now. Today I got a copy of his death certificate in the mail and I cried. It's not getting any easier to accept the fact that he's gone. Standing there holding, reading a tangible, black and white reminder of his death makes it even harder.

This photo shows the birth of a new day, yet I'm talking about death. How very strange, eh?

I miss him...

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.