Friday, February 24, 2006

The Perfect Trip


Andy loved to go camping at Cottonwood Creek. Of all the camping spots east of the Sierras, our spot is the best spot. Many great moments happened camped out under that oak tree.

In June, we enjoyed the first camping trip after Andy passed. This trip was important. Needed. Monumental. Cathartic. Holy. Perfect.

For the first time, we weren't just camped out under that oak tree. We were camped out under a thick cloud of memories.

Uncle Bob wrote down every memory and thought we shared around that blackened firepit. Our hearts were full.


On that trip, Uncle Bob caught the biggest trout we'd ever seen at Cottonwood Creek.

That fish was poetry.

It was the perfect trip.

Saturday, February 18, 2006

Intense

These are the fevered words I wrote in the early hours on the day of Andy's Funeral, one year ago.

It's not easy to express love for a lost friend. It's harder not to.
Click on the pages to see in full screen.



Tuesday, February 14, 2006

Forgiveness And Birthdays


As soon as they had breakfasted they all went out, and there they saw Aslan and Edmund walking together in the dewy grass, apart from the rest of the court. There is no need to tell you (and no one ever heard) what Aslan was saying but it was a conversation which Edmund never forgot. As the others drew nearer Aslan turned to meet them bringing Edmund with him.

"Here is your brother," he said, "and -- there is no need to talk to him about what is past."
- C.S. Lewis


In forgiveness and in birthdays, there lies Amazing Grace.

Thank you Lord, for all you've given us of both.

Saturday, February 11, 2006

One Year Closer


Thank you for this beautiful, loving tribute to our Andy. We miss him every day, every hour of our lives. He celebrated his one-year birthday in Heaven yesterday. One long year without our boy - one year closer to seeing him again.

I love you guys.

- Aunt Judy

Thursday, February 09, 2006

Heroes


One day I saved my little cousin's life. He fell into a neighbor's pool and I jumped in and pulled him out.

In the picture above, I was celebrated as a hero for a deed anyone would and could do. From that moment, we were knit together as brothers.

He called me his hero.

It was mutual.

- The Chindo

How Wonderful


I am stuck between my physical body that wants to stay put and safe and comfortable, and that immortal realm that took our Andy one year ago today. I want to go to his grave and connect with his eternity and join him there. And yet I am hanging on to this life, but our Andy is not here. And so I am horribly, horribly torn.

To understand what it means to lose someone you love dearly means to know pain, certainly, but it also means to remember with so much joy and delight. And I find delight in every memory I have of Andy, as a little boy, as a young man that got such a kick out of his funny and eccentric relations--including me. And then my heart does ache for the empty place he's left in the hearts of his parents, his brother, his cousins--my children--and I wonder how it can possibly have happened at all.

He's the one that shouldn't have had to go, and now I know what it means to long for Heaven--to really long for Heaven. We all, all of us who grieve, now have a link to Heaven, and the link is our precious Andy. Andy is connecting his loved ones to Heaven--we know how to get there, we know the Way, and we know he is waiting for us. How wonderful, how painful, how joyous, how amazing, how awesome, how humbling. Thank you, Andy, for giving me a glimpse of the Way.

- Aunt B

Rock Star


Andy was a rock star.... He had a great smile, a great laugh, a great voice and was always so fun to be around. He always was happy to see me and never forgot to say hi whenever he was around. I miss Andy, yet I am comforted by fact that he is in heaven with Jesus and no longer suffering.

- CM

Homesick


Every time I’ve thought of Andy since he left last year, the words of this song come into my head.

"You're in a better place, I've heard a thousand times
And at least a thousand times I've rejoiced for you
But the reason why I'm broken, the reason why I cry
Is how long must I wait to be with you

I close my eyes and I see your face
If home's where my heart is then I'm out of place
Lord, won't you give me strength to make it through somehow
I've never been more homesick than now"
- Mercy Me


For so long we’d miss him, but then, he’d suddenly arrive at a holiday gathering. That is how it feels now, like he’s just going to suddenly be back one day and all will be well.

Most of my dreams of him are that there’s a funeral, but he’s alive and he’s there. Which is weird, but it must have something to do with not having had a chance to say goodbye.

My dreams give me a chance to do that…sort of.

- Raggedy Anne

Understanding


"...you can love completely without complete understanding."
-Norman Maclean, A River Runs Through It

Every time I saw Andy was a relief. Each meeting was an answer to prayer and a thousand questions, and each meeting raised a thousand more questions. But it was always cool. You felt cooler when you were with Andy. You talked cooler. You got the impression that you were part of something big and important. That was his level. Big and important and cool. I don't know how he did it, but maybe that was the hardest part of knowing him. Every parting left me wondering if I would ever feel that cool again.

I remember a desert camping trip with Andy and two of my uncles. He and I took a day hike together and shared a canteen until it was gone and we were competely dry. We had no destination or particular purpose, but we didn't need it. What we were doing was big and important and tough and cool and hilarious and utterly useless to anyone but us. In many ways I'm still living off that hike when I had him to myself and I could talk and be as cool as I wanted because Andy was there.

A couple of years later, when I finally saw him again, that hike was the first thing he wanted to talk about. Now for some reason, it's the only thing I want to write about.

The picture here is from that camping trip in a place I believe is Andy's heaven, where he's been given the task of teaching the angels to sing.

-TMF


Thursday, February 02, 2006

A Start


"Know a man, his face seems pulled and tense
Like he’s riding on a motorbike in the strongest winds
So I approach with tact, suggest that he should relax
But he’s always moving much too fast
Said he’ll see me on the flipside
On this trip he’s taken for a ride
He’s been taking too much on ...
There he goes with his perfectly unkept clothes
There he goes..." - Pearl Jam


I frequently find myself in deep thought, considering how much the life and death of my cousin Andy has affected my outlook on life.

His was a life of extremes. Extreme joy. Extreme sadness. Extreme anger. Extreme addiction. Extreme humor. Extreme shame. Extreme love.

This blog is a start; a start at chronicling the impact his life has had on me and others.