People are kind. It’s easy to focus on all the wrong things folks may say, or those who now avoid you after such terrible loss, or those who just want you to hurry up and get better. All of that pales in comparison to the kindness that envelopes me, and for that I consider myself immensely blessed. More on that in a bit.
Today, March 29th, 2014, completes two years of missing my son.
This second year of grief has been harder for me, in many ways, than the first.
As the second year progressed, I became painfully aware that time does not, in fact, heal. I’d bought into that platitude, spoken by so many, spoken by me. So when I didn’t feel better than I had during the first year, I felt like a failure at grieving. I had to change my expectation. The pain wasn’t going to go away. The scar tissue may cover the raw wound, but the scars, ugly and thick, are there all the same. Not healed. Still there. Taking up residence and space in my life.
And sometimes, as I’m helpless to intervene, the scar tissue vanishes, exposing once more the shattering impact of the original wound. But this time around, so many months later, the pain comes without the protective layer of shock that embraced me those early days after life as I knew it ended.
As the second year progressed, the gulf between my memories and my reality lengthened. During that second year, Tyler’s friends began driving, sat for their SATs, embarked on their senior year, applied to colleges. See, the boy I buried was only 15 and a half. He was in the tenth grade. How was it possible that all around me, his peers were turning into young adults? Life was marching on, relegating my vibrant, vivacious son to a shadow world of memories that I feared were fading with time.
In the first year, I didn’t doubt that others’ memories were as vivid as mine. As the second year progressed, my memories were as vivid as ever. Were others’?
In the first year, others expected me to be a dysfunctional wreck. As the second year progressed, my scarred-over wound still felt fresh. Did others think I should be doing better?
And this is where the kindness of those around me became so critical to my getting through this second year.
When I wondered, during the second year, if I should be doing better, I received cues from others that where I am is just fine.
Tears have flowed unchecked as I’ve stood in church singing songs that remind me of Tyler or make me think of heaven. Not once have my reddened eyes seemed to bother anyone, even when I know they notice.
I have burst into tears at work… during a meeting, in a conversation with a co-worker or my boss. Not once has anyone acted as if this were unprofessional, unexpected, or as if I’d embarrassed myself or them. In fact, folks seem to instinctively know just to let me keep talking until the tears dry up. Open compassion just makes me cry harder, if that makes sense.
Even when I’m not talking with others openly about my grief, I get reminders that they are aware I’m grieving, and that it’s ok. A quick hug to say, “I haven’t forgotten that this is still hard.” A bouquet of flowers to say, “We know this is an especially hard week.”
So many surrounding me do not expect me to be doing better. They don’t assume my daily functioning, my daily laughter, my ability to be grateful for my memories means that I’m finally “getting over it” or that “time is healing the grief.” They understand that I’m still haunted, day and night, by my loss.
And that kindness helps a grieving mother immensely. I feel loved, taken care of, not alone.
When I wondered, during this second year, if others were forgetting my son, I received notes, cards or messages like these, out of the blue:
“I know this is a difficult time of year, but be assured you aren’t the only ones who remember Tyler, full of life.” – written on a card left at our doorstep by a neighbor, accompanied by bright yellow tulips
“I have Tyler’s pic on my fridge and have him in my heart always. Tyler fade? I don’t think so. Yes, that is true for most who have left us after a matter of time, but not Tyler. For me, his impact is as strong as ever.” – message to me from an adult at our church
“I wanted to let you know that I still think about Tyler every day, and I still have a picture of him on my amplifier and my helmet so I see him every time I do the things that make me happy.” – message to me from one of Tyler’s elementary school friends
“Upon experiencing Tyler’s story, I now understand the phrase, ‘GONE BUT NEVER FORGOTTEN!’ I want to share with you my son’s college application essay that he submitted to his college choices so that they know a little more about him and what his experience via Tyler has done to cause him to see life differently. I’m grateful for how Tyler has impacted my son, so much so that his college essay is all about Tyler!” – message to me from the mom of one of Tyler’s Chapelgate friends
I wonder if these folks, and so many others, comprehend how communicating that they still remember Ty fulfills the desperate need of a parent who loathes every month and year that takes her further away from her son?
Sharing all this kindness amidst continued grief illuminates the purpose of launching LiveLikeTyler earlier this month. Ron and I can’t wait for people to post their stories.
For two years, many accounts that expressed how someone was moved to deeper faith and meaning just by knowing Tyler have been shared second-hand, on Caringbridge, on Facebook, in private messages, or in passing conversation. This site is meant to be where all these stories are compiled and presented in one unifying place.
I hope that, in time, this site will be filled with amazing testimony that will minister to others for years to come. And also, from the selfish perspective of a mom who is now entering her third year without her son, I hope it will become a place I can visit and know that the spirit of my son lives on.
You can post a story on the Letters to Tyler page, the Inspired Acts page, or share a photo or video on the Photos & Videos page. Each of these pages has a submission form. Only the site administrator will be able to see your information as submitted, and will then post your story, video, or photo on the site. Please share this with anyone you know who has a story to tell!