MY FRIEND…TYLER
When I was about 11 or so, one of our family friends and my closest friend then
named Tyler would hold my heart forever. He originally started coming over as a
buddy of my brother David, but he quickly started to defend me from verbal abuse,
when I used to be berated by my brother. I remember him cornering my brother
one day and telling him he had no right to be disrespectful to me, and that he
wished he had been so lucky to have a family like ours. He was like an older
brother to me and always made a point of being my protector.
The house we were living in at the time was where his family lived before us. It
was over 100 years old and an old farmhouse. Where we were living at the time the
town’s drainage ditch surrounded our house, so there were 3 days in a row he had
walked to our house and found abandoned baby ducks. Whenever he found them,
he’d pick them up and run to the house as fast as he could! He’d get about 10 feet
from the house and start yelling that he had a present for me. When I got outside,
he’d have his hands balled up and the BIGGEST and proudest smile I’ve ever seen
just to present me with these itty-bitty ducklings! He said, “They lost their momma
and they looked so scared, and you were the only one who came to mind that
would make sure they are loved and completely safe.”
From the start, our friendship was fueled by our country music arguments. He
loved twangy chords and heartache stories, but I couldn’t understand them. Every
time a country song played, our teasing would begin: my dramatic groans and his
excited defense. We had a running joke about how much I hated country music and
how much he loved it. It wasn’t just about the music, but the memories we created
around it.
sigh From the moment I noticed the change in Tyler, a heavy weight settled in
my heart. I was the first in the family to sense that something was wrong. It was
obvious in his eyes. Those once lively windows to his soul now reflected
restlessness and a certain defeat I had never seen before. Tyler’s spark was gone.
Instead of his normal bright smile, he looked sleepless and detached.
I became worried as the hours passed. This weight persisted all day, but I couldn’t
understand why. I realized the reason I was nervous when my mother, pale and
teary, approached us with a family message. Her voice quivered as she hugged my
sister and me and told us, Tyler was gone. I didn’t know it at the time but later
found out that he had done it to himself. I was devastated. I was in awe and
disbelief, crying hysterically. Why Tyler!?
That same night something felt different in my room. Different, yet very familiar
and safe. So, I started trying to talk to it. I sat down at the foot of my bed, turned
my radio down, and said, “I know it’s you. I’ve missed you, Tyler.” That’s when I
felt the warmth around me, weighing on my body like a comfortable blanket as if
he were hugging me.
After my contact with him, there were times I would find my radio changed to his
favorite station. Strangely, the station was never clear. Though covered in static,
the sound of an acoustic or electric guitar would occasionally break through. I
could almost imagine him laughing, enjoying the fact that the music would annoy
me.
He often turned my TV on and off, which made me feel both annoyed and amused.
I was somewhat confused by his weird habit of moving things in my room. I’d
often catch the clothes on my hangers swaying as if he was running his hands
through them from side to side, creating a gentle, steady dance of fabric. In those
haunting times, my voice would break the silence, whispering firmly for him to
stop. He always did. He would do these things so much, that after some time I
would ignore them.
One night the energy changed a little. It still felt like Tyler, yet at the same time, it
made me feel somewhat threatened. I can only explain that it felt like when you
know someone is upset with you and they give off a certain energy. The silent
treatment or whatever. I didn’t know what he wanted, and I felt he was growing
impatient with me because of it.
One night at 2 a.m., a powerful force, I can only describe as a punch, slammed
against my chest as I was sleeping in bed. I opened my eyes to find myself lost in
the room below mine. But while I struggled to make sense of the dramatic change
in my surroundings, my soul, like a magnet, rose through the flooring and
reconnected with my body forcefully. My stereo went crazy, changing channels
frantically as I gasped for breath.
The next day I sat down on my floor and told him whatever he did scared me, but it
was okay. I told him I loved him, and I was never going to forget him. I let him
know that I was going to be okay because I’m strong and I’ll never let him down.
He will always be my best friend and the brother I always wanted. I let him know my heart
will never, EVER stop loving him. But it was time for him to go. After that, his playful
hauntings stopped, and my room’s energy changed back to how it was before. I’m not sure
if I was sad about it, or glad he had finally moved on to wherever it was special souls like his
went too.
Years have gone by, and while the weight of grief lightened, every so often, when
the weight of the world felt too heavy, I’d feel a familiar warmth. And late at night,
between the static of the radio, I’d hear the faintest strumming of a guitar.
