Andrew Michael Wallace

Memory

2011-02-09T17:48:00.001-08:00

I know you've lost someone you love; a brother, a sister, a mother, a father, a friend. I know how much it hurts. Every day it hurts.

Death has an inimitable sting.

But let me tell you some bittersweet good news.

No. The pain doesn't go away. I won't lie. But the memories, those rock-solid, vivid totems of thought that come rushing back when you least expect them, they will soon accompany and even eclipse your pain.

A familiar smell, a song on the radio, a beam of light through a dirty windshield as you cross that certain intersection will soon bring your loved one back to you in ways you never could have imagined on that dark day in the church. Those neglected memories will relentlessly force the pain to one side so that you can give them their due.

Whoever it is you are remembering, whoever you mourn with each setting sun, I challenge you to let sweet memory eclipse the pain.

Today, my deep hurt takes a back seat. Today I remember Andy.

"In my memory
I can still see that face
In my memory
I can still hear the voice
I remember talking with you
The stories I could tell
In my memory, I remember you still

You gave the poet words to speak
You were the sun to warm my days
You put us in each others hands
You gave me love before I asked

In my memory
I can still see that face
In my memory
I can still hear the voice
I remember talking with you
The stories I could tell
In my memory, I remember you still

I feel my heart will surely break
I've taken all that I can take
You were the light for me to see
You were the sky that covered me

In my memory
I can still see that face
In my memory
I can still hear the voice
I remember talking with you
For hours by the well
In my memory, I remember you still

In my memory I can still see the eyes
In my memory
I can still feel your touch
I remember talking with you
The stories I could tell
In my memory, I remember you still"

- The Call

Note: I thank God that He allows me to enjoy sweet memories of my loved ones passed away. But I thank Him all the more that the resurrection of His son Jesus is more than just a memory. For all those who follow Him to eternal life, we know, “Death has been swallowed up in victory,” and we can say together, “Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?”

The Rose Beyond The Wall

2010-02-09T15:30:00.000-08:00

Near a shady wall a rose once grew,
Budded and blossomed in God's free light,
Watered and fed by the morning dew,
Shedding it's sweetness day and night.

As it grew and blossomed fair and tall,
Slowly rising to loftier height,
It came to a crevice in the wall
Through which there shone a beam of light.

Onward it crept with added strength
With never a thought of fear or pride,
It followed the light through the crevice's length
And unfolded itself on the other side.

The light, the dew, the broadening view
Were found the same as they were before,
And it lost itself in beauties new,
Breathing it's fragrance more and more.

Shall claim of death cause us to grieve
And make our courage faint and fall?
Nay! Let us faith and hope receive--
The rose still grows beyond the wall,

Scattering fragrance far and wide
Just as it did in days of yore,
Just as it did on the other side,
Just as it will forever-more.

- A. L. Frink

Face In The Crowd

2009-02-08T19:33:00.000-08:00

"I thought that I saw your face in the crowd
But that couldn't be
'cause you walk beyond the stars."

-Terry Scott Taylor, 'One More Time'

Do you ever see Andy somewhere out in the real world? I catch him in a car in the far right lane or in a crowded walkway. He is sometimes walking on the sidewalk or holding the door for me at a restaurant.

It's not him, of course, but he always makes me look twice. My memories of him, and my desire to see him one more time, always makes me look again.

Go Rest High

2008-02-18T08:57:00.000-08:00

My cousin Andy would have been 30 today. We would have
been the same age for a few months as it always was.
Andy is still so close to my heart, and as I think of
him today I remember how much fun we always had.
Whenever I start to feel really sad and miss Andy,
which is still quite often I must confess, I have to
remind myself that he is not missing this life. He's
got it really good now, better than any of us can
imagine I'm sure. So, while today, I am feeling sad, I
can still rejoice that he is with our Father and
having a much greater celebration than we would have
offered today.

I love you Andy. Happy Birthday.

Here are the lyrics to "Go Rest High" which was
fitting for Andy. Oh, how I wish we could hear him now
singing with the angels and praising the God he loved.

I know your life
On earth was troubled
And only you could know the pain
You werent afraid to face the devil
You were no stranger to the rain

Chorus:
Go rest high on that mountain
Son, you work on earth is done
Go to heaven a shoutin
Love for the father and son

Oh, how we cried the day you left us
We gathered round your grave to grieve
I wish I could see the angels faces
When they hear your sweet voice sing

- Annie

You Have A Namesake

2008-02-07T20:45:00.000-08:00

Namesake: def: n. One that is named after another.

Receiving the honor of a namesake seems a common
thing, but in reality it is actually uncommon. In
December such an honor was given to Andy. His
firstborn nephew was named after him. Andrew Michael.
His parents gave the name out of love, honor and
respect for Andy who is gone from us and for the baby
Andrew Michael who lives.

Baby Andrew will no doubt grow up to wonder about his
Uncle. His parents and grandparents will tell him all
about the boy and the man who lived and touched the
lives of so many. They will tell Andrew lots of funny
stories that have become legend with the passing of
time. They will tell of Uncle Andy's talents, his
struggles in his too-short life, and they will tell
how Uncle Andy would have loved playing with him,
making him laugh, and teaching him so many, many
important things.

Andy's brother and his parents will no doubt watch
little Andrew Michael grow and see signs of Andy in
perhaps his smile, his walk, his talents as they
emerge. They'll hide all those things in their hearts
and take the bitter with the sweet. All the while
this new life will be blessed with devoted parents and
grandparents, and an Uncle who is in another realm
assuredly very aware and involved in the loving and
nurturing of this little tiny boy.

Andy, you have a namesake! Isn't it grand?!

- Aunt Becky

Andy's Mama

2007-06-26T06:53:00.000-07:00

Today is Andy's mama's birthday.

Surely her thoughts of gifts she might receive today turn to her heart's desire -- that she would have a moment with her beloved son once again.

If he could talk to her audibly today, no doubt he would tell her, "Mom, you won't believe it, Grandpa and I have been having so much fun getting to know each other over and over. We have our eyes opened to all the mysteries of God, of creation, of the Savior. The language spoken here is so beautiful, and there is no memory of pain, or suffering. There is only eternal love and glories, and grace upon grace. And there's no time here! It's almost like the day I left, everything is brand new to me! Remember that part of a verse, 'in the twinkling of an eye?' It's like that.

"Mom, don't be sad today. I love you, I loved you always, and in a twinkling of an eye, we'll be together again. You, me, Dad, Rob, Tatiana.

Oh, and Happy Birthday to the sweetest mom in the world."

From Becky

Welcome

2007-02-09T00:57:00.000-08:00

We were always grateful to see him. To be together was to be whole.

We'll be complete again someday. Then it will be Andy's turn to open his arms and say, "Welcome home. I've missed you."

With that, he'll start the reunion party that will last forever.

Smile

2007-01-22T21:56:00.000-08:00

A big part of my creative development came during the time I was in a band called Circe's Smile. My cousins Rob and Andy, natural musicians, put together an avant garde rock band and invited me to be the singer. Andy was a much better singer than I was, but he would much rather play the drums.

Though my time with the band was short lived, I cherish the memory of singing to Rob's melodious keyboard on top of Andy's steady backbeat. The rush of being on stage playing our mad cabaret to a small clot of fans was the candy that made us smile.

Back To 1985

2006-11-11T15:28:00.000-08:00

"Don't bet your future, on one roll of the dice
Better remember, lightning never strikes twice
Please don't drive eighty eight, don't wanna be late again

So take me away, I don't mind
But you better promise me, I'll be back in time
Gotta get back in time
Gotta get back in time
Get me back in time"
- Huey Lewis & The News, 1985

One summer long ago, I came down from Oregon to visit my Mom's family in Southern California. I spent all day, every day, shooting baskets, playing ping pong, inventing roller coasters and conspiring with my cousins Robby and Andy.

Every day, that is, except Thursday. Every Thursday, Grandpa took me and Robby with him to the Christian Business Men's Association breakfast at a local Carrows before he dropped us off at his church for the youth group beach trip.

But one Thursday, Grandpa took all three of us to Universal Studios to ride the Studio Tour Tram.

We lifted the A-Team Van.

We posed with the shark.

Some days we wish we could go back in time and change what ever we may have done wrong. But then we might have had to miss the sweetness of a day like that day back in 1985.

True Companion

2006-08-11T18:20:00.000-07:00

This may be a little too much for those of us who aren't ready, but to those who miss Andy's beautiful voice, play the song below. He sang this at his brother Rob's wedding in December 2003.

True Companion

Listen closely at the end when little cousin Lydia emotes, "Is Andy really singing? Ahh man! That's cool!"

Homing Pigeons

2006-05-30T22:34:00.000-07:00

Round white clouds roll slowly above the housetops,
Over the clear red roofs they flow and pass.
A flock of pigeons rises with blue wings flashing,
Rises with whistle of wings, hovers an instant,
And settles slowly again on the tarnished grass.

Conrad Aiken
The House Of Dust: Part 02: 05: Retrospect

Before, when I saw a flock of pigeons dodging and darting in the shallow skies of San Fernando Valley neighborhoods, I thought, "Those might be Andy's pigeons."

Today, when that familiar rustling and slapping breaks up the murmur of traffic, and I look up to see a many colored flock, I wince. I fear that habitual thought might pop up and I'll again have to admit that they are not his pigeons; that he no longer keeps birds.

But in my daytime dreaming, these are the birds he set free this morning and they're only looking for a reason to circle back home.

Memories

2006-04-11T21:36:00.000-07:00

I keep wanting to write something sentimental and all these memories are getting in the way.

Like the time Andy got his rock climbing shoes.

They were still in the box when we arrived at our camping spot in the Saline Valley. He asked me to go climbing with him and I couldn't think of anything I wanted to climb. We rock-hopped around for a while, but Andy was patently unsatisfied until we came upon a towering, upright, smooth-faced rock. Think of a Stonehenge pillar only much more impressive. Think of China's Great Wall or Gibraltar.

Andy said, "Let's climb it." My answer was timely. "No, thank you." But he had rock climbing shoes which he evidently thought would get him up this face that had no visible hand or foot holds. He told me about his three point climbing technique (which I've since incorporated into everything dangerous I do), and that climbing is much safer with a partner. I assumed that leaving for camp would prompt him to give up on the idea and follow me back, but he didn't come. For a long time he didn't follow. For a long time there was nothing to worry about until Uncle Bob said, "Where's Andy?"

That's when I turned toward the Impossible Face and saw Andy straighten up as he finally made it onto the flat top. I wanted to cheer. I definitely laughed. Then I wished I would have at least tried. I didn't even wonder how he was going to get down. Anybody who could make it to the top of that massive monolith could make it down.

He had a lot of climbing experience but he never had the proper gear or any professional training (unless you count tree climbing). Besides his shoes, there wasn't anything rock climber about his appearence. He wore desert camo fatigues and a flannel shirt.

I think Andy was a master rock climber because he believed he was.

I also think about other times in his life when he needed a partner and I wasn't there.

It's amazing how memories like this become monuments after a loss. I'd love nothing more than to go back to Andy's rock someday to see if I could make it to the top. Maybe then I could feel what he felt up there.

Uncle Bob Eyes

2006-03-18T08:21:00.000-08:00

There's a sense of humor we all share that, I believe, is unique to us. It's delivered as a tough, working mans swagger peppered with elaborately crafted nicknames (that's how I came to be known as The Chindo) in insane cartoon voices and accents.

You knew that the madness would soon begin when one of us squint our eyes into dime slots and cantilever our eybrows up in the middle. This is the tough guy face. We call it "Uncle Bob Eyes"

As Uncle Bob's youngest son, Andy was given the greatest measure of this humor and thereby was really the very best at it. His Uncle Bob Eyes were the most severe. His high shouldered stance was the most imposing. His nicknames for us were the most insane and lasting. His "SSS SSS SSS" laugh was the most infectious, and his Irishman, "Heffernan McMorganstern" was unparalleled.

Laughter ensued.

The Perfect Trip

2006-02-24T06:48:00.000-08:00

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.

Intense

2006-02-18T21:57:00.000-08:00

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.

Forgiveness And Birthdays

2006-02-14T11:34:00.000-08:00

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.

One Year Closer

2006-02-11T11:26:00.000-08:00

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

Heroes

2006-02-09T22:27:00.000-08:00

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

2006-02-09T22:20:00.000-08:00

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

2006-02-09T22:00:00.000-08:00

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

2006-02-09T21:46:00.000-08:00

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

2006-02-09T17:30:00.000-08:00

"...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

A Start

2006-02-02T11:36:00.000-08:00

"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.