Listening to: Smile at the Fishies, Tim (2002)
I always considered Tim a little brother, mostly by default because my sister and I grew up playing with him and his siblings and spent so much time at his house that they became an extension of our own family. Being three years older than him, I was closer to his older brother and sister than to him, but he was always there, a piece that completed the puzzle.
Sadly, Tim's life was unexpectedly cut short April 25th, 2011. He would have turned 25 in August and I believe he would have gone on to do great things. He was an amazing musician and had an unbelievable ability to pick up any musical instrument and just know how to play it.
As his legacy gets repeated over and over, it becomes ever more apparent how much he mattered to those who knew him. How he became an example of someone who lived every moment and used his time here wisely. How he cared about the world and justice and doing the right thing and made a difference while he could, even made a difference in his final act, donating six of his organs and saving many lives that would otherwise have been lost. I'm so fortunate to have been able to know him first hand, but it saddens me that it took his passing for me to really get to know him, and even to have a relationship with him.
So, this first pearl of mine is really a tribute to the tiny little pearls that Tim bestowed upon me without my even knowing until his passing nine months ago, today. From the moment we received the call that Tim was in the hospital, all those little pearls began come together into a strand of memories. Previously unremarkable scenes from my life became a forever repeating montage that plays automatically any time Tim comes to mind.
Every now and then, a new scene that I'd forgotten comes to mind and adds itself to the playlist. Some scenes actually happened the way I remember them. Some are just feelings and not actual events. Some are scenes that previously weren't about Tim, but because of his death he now plays the lead role. Currently, the montage goes something like this:
- My mom changing Tim's diaper. I must have been about 4 years old, but somehow this image got emblazoned in the deep recesses of my mind. I don't even know if it's a real memory, but I treasure it nonetheless.
- Family snapshots of "Tiny Tim" fitting into the bread box that held the wooden blocks we used to build make-believe buildings, and one of all of us kids at the Domes wearing terribly 80's-style sweatpants and t-shirts. No doubt we went to Chuck-E-Cheese after the Domes. We always did.
- Making wet butt prints on concrete benches at Hoyt pool. Tim's was so small!
- Tim watching the movie Glory over and over and none of us understanding what he loved so much about it, but I've forever associated that movie with him.
- When Tim's older siblings formed an exclusive club called "The Bomb", named after that ever classic phrase from the early 90's. Even my sister and I were only allowed "half-bomb" status, and they wouldn't let Tim join at all. He stuck it to them, though, and went off and formed his own club, "The Grenade".
- Somehow, whenever I land on this memory, I also think of pogs - an ingenious game lost to the ages. I still have my Apollo 13 pog holder from Burger King, filled to the brim, complete with slammers.
- Fast forward a little: Tim beginning to really embrace music. Learning guitar. Agreeing to give me lessons, and I just had to pay him with two jars of maraschino cherries! I should have followed through on that. I'm eating cherries now, and I believe Tim is smiling.
- Tim handing out his CDs at church. He numbered the first set of CDs he ever produced and I got number 10. From that point on, I requested that all my copies of his CDs be numbered 10 by his own hand so that when he made it big, I'd have a complete collection of number 10 Tim CDs. Even if he wasn't numbering them, I always got number 10.
- On one, he drew a bird on an upside-down tree. I don't remember the context of that drawing, but I'm sure it stemmed from some stupid conversation that we thought was hilarious at the time.
- Tim at the lakefront, camping out to get the best spot for his family to watch the fireworks on July 3rd.
- Tim and his older brother staking out front row seats at the STYX stage at Summerfest. I got to join them and caught a guitar pick that was thrown into the crowd. Tim's brother treated me to my first legal stateside beer, since I had turned 21 while studying abroad and had just arrived home.
- Tim playing guitar at my wedding.
- Tim in the hospital.
I'm sure there were other moments, but that's where the montage ends. Strangely, it's also where Tim's and my relationship truly begins. That night, after leaving the hospital, I found myself praying harder than I remember praying in a long time. Usually, when I pray, it's very conversational, and the person I'm talking to is God. This time, though, it was with Tim.
The conversation was one-sided, me telling him not to go, to fight, to come back, that he was needed here. After a long time repeating this over and over again, I suddenly felt a sense of acceptance, and I remember the tone of my thoughts adjusting to say, "Okay, if you need to go, I understand. But you're going to have to help us through this one, T-mo." For the next day or two, I kept talking to him in this manner, reminding him that he still had work to do, to teach us how to move forward.
It happens that the day after Tim went into the hospital, I had to fly to North Carolina for business. The second day I was there, the decision was made to turn the machines off. That night, as I was alone in my hotel room, I turned on the TV and found a movie playing. The movie was Glory. In that moment, I knew that Tim had heard me. And he continues to hear me, and so many others who still need him.
Healing takes a long time and is different for everybody. For me, what was once a casual observation and awareness of another person's life has become a lesson in living fully and life's amazing ability to continue in so many little ways after death seems so final. Tim is still so present - and more present in my life now than before.
Don't get me wrong, I'd rather have him here in person and be on the periphery than where we stand now. But there is comfort in knowing how much Tim left us, in hearing others describe how they were touched by him, and in taking his legacy and applying it to my own life. And in that way, Tim hasn't really left us at all.
And in the end, isn't that what we all want? To have mattered to another and to have made a difference? To have led a life well-lived? In the short time that he had, Tim did just that, and he reminds us all the time that we have our own role to play and that we'd better play it well because time is short.
I wasn't sure what I wanted to post for my first pearl to be, and this definitely wasn't what I had in mind, especially on my birthday, an occasion for happiness. But in the end, this really is a happy post and particularly appropriate for the first of my pearls, because the many many pearls that Tim gave me and so many others are just so precious.
By the way, this post was Tim's idea. Last night as I was falling asleep, I thought of him. And when I couldn't get him out of my mind, I got the feeling that he was asking me for this. So, thank you, Tim - and everyone - for this incredible birthday gift. The gift of you.
"I said I don't wanna go.
I just don't like the time.
Don't wanna leave the world alone,
don't wanna leave the world behind."
~Afterglow, by Tim Reck*
*I said I was going to change names of people I feature in this blog for privacy, but Tim is an exception because he doesn't need protection anymore and I believe that everyone can benefit from knowing him. If you want to learn more, hear his music or see some videos, check out his website and Facebook page.
That was Beautiful! I can't wait to read more of your Pearls! I wonder if you realize how high you have set the bar for yourself...that's ok, I know you'll fly over it, over and over again!!! As Lucky as you were to have Tim in your Life....He was equally as Lucky to have you in his!!! Love ya' - Aunt Dolores
ReplyDeleteHi Jessica, you were right, reading this blog about Tim did make me cry. And your memory of my changing his diaper was a correct one. He was one of the rare boy babies that I watched. He was so small for so long - on some level always "little Timmy." But he grew up into a vibrant, thoughtful young man.
ReplyDeleteIt was a shock to walk into his hospital room last Easter evening and see him lying there, so still and non-responsive. But I read something someplace - that when one you love becomes a memory, the memory becomes a treasure. Tim lives on in our hearts and in his music. Keep writing baby girl!