Dear Timmy Sean; yesterday was your birthday

Dear Tim;

Yesterday was your birthday. I wanted to write something (I wanted to acknowledge your birthday and send a love letter to your family) but also I didn’t (it was recently disclosed to me that I focus too much on dates and anniversaries and bad days*) but also this year I wanted to write a blog post every day (writing goals/priming the pump, as Julia Cameron says) but then I also didn’t want to be accused of being overly dramatic about your birthday (sigh, ow, my eyes just rolled so far back into my head I saw my brain). (Side note to anyone else carrying grief: NO ONE HAS THE RIGHT TO TELL YOU HOW YOU SHOULD GRIEVE. YOU DO YOU, BOO.) So here we are today, I’m already a little miffed that I allowed someone else’s opinion to shelve my word count, and although I did make a Facebook post and reached out to your parents, I do feel that I’m a day late in acknowledging your birthday. And for that I’m sorry. Even though you always said nobody wanted to celebrate your birthday because everyone was tired from Christmas and New Year’s. Even though I managed to throw you a party almost every year.

I had a pretty good day yesterday, in actuality. I had a wonderful massage at my chiropractor’s office. I met an old friend for lunch and we talked a lot about living with complicated grief from an event that ultimately set you free, for as horrible as it was while it was happening, and PTSD, and healing, and going on to make good choices and live your best life. I listened to some great podcasts (Margaret Cho and Tig Notaro giving life advice; how much of a crazy cult is Tony Robbins, anyway; and oh! oh! Remember Mobituaries, that I got you into? Mo Rocca’s podcast on things in our culture that have ended? And we thought it was canceled? It wasn’t! There’s like three more seasons after what we listened to! So I’m binging it and loving it!). Then I came home and worked on the little miniature bookstore that I’m putting together. I swear I’m going to finish that thing today if I have to cancel every one of my plans to do it.

Anyway. My point is that I had a very lovely day yesterday.

And I wish, from the bottom of my heart, the same for your family.

I live with your absence every day. You were here, in my house, in my life, every day. Now you are not. Not a day goes by that you don’t pass through my mind at some point, for anything from “Oh, The Rookie was renewed, I have to tell Tim, we love that show!” to “oh my god I love these dogs so much but Tim would absolutely be driven crazy by how needy they are” to “I just realized I haven’t had to soak a glass of dried orange juice for a day before washing it in almost two years.” And that’s not a bad thing, a depressed thing, a hard thing to carry. It’s just a thing, now, every day, that’s here in the house. Like the cat boxes that always need to be cleaned or that drywall tape that’s coming loose that I need to caulk. It doesn’t break me, it’s just a thing I stub my emotional toe on and acknowledge and then I move on with the rest of my day.

But your family? Is the loss there, every day, for them? Or does it hit them every now and then like a fresh wound?

I want the absolute best for your family. I want them to post pictures of you and tell stories about you, if they need or want to. I want them to always love you, even though they’re carrying loss. I want them to know that you were the best Tim you could be, even with your occasional fault (I do not miss that phone ring/whistle you used to do any time someone would say the word “phone” – I’m sorry, I know it cracked you up, but I do not miss it). I want your family to know how much you loved them, even though you showed love in not necessarily gregarious ways. I want them to know how well you talked about them, when they weren’t around. I want them to know how much you loved when you got to help them with something, or solve a problem for them.

I hope that everyone in your family; your parents, your older brother, your three younger sisters, your passel of aunts and uncles and cousins and everybody’s kids…. I hope that they are all able to find the best kind of healing for them, just as I have. I hope that they know it’s okay and healthy to laugh at good memories of you even as they’re angry and sad that you are gone. I hope they know how much I love each and every one of them so dearly, and how grateful I am to still be considered a member of their amazing, generous, loving family. In the 20+ years I’ve known all of them, there’s not a one of them that I’ve met who doesn’t seem like a person who would drop everything to help a family member in need. If I rubbed a lamp and got a Genie and I had one wish, I’d wish that everyone in your family feels peace in their hearts.

Happy Birthday, Timmy Sean. I’m sorry you never got to 55.

—

* It’s not important who said this to me. One day I might do a longer blog post just on that conversation, but meanwhile, please trust that I’m fine with that conversation. As my favorite Marvel Universe character, Peggy Carter, says, “I don’t need a congressional honor. I don’t need Agent Thompson’s approval or the president’s. I know my value. Anyone else’s opinion doesn’t really matter.” I know my value. I trust in what I bring to the table. I’m going to be just fine.