Happy Birthday, Tyler

Happy birthday. You’d be 26 today. I look over the last seven years since you’ve been gone and they seem to have flown by. It blows my mind to realize that it really has been that long since I last saw you in person. It’s one thing to watch videos of you, to even be able to hear your voice. But to see you would be…
   

    What would it be? Would it be as if no time has passed between us? Or like old friends seeing each other after so long? For the first year after your death, I never thought the pain would go away. Honestly, I didn’t want it to. Because I felt like my pain was the last real thing I had connected with you. Everything else instantly became just a memory, just the past. My pain, though, was real and raw and tangible, even. I wanted to hold onto it. Every tear I cried, every breath I lost, every rip of my heart, was just a way to feel close to you. I didn’t ever want to lose you or foget.

   But that’s not what God wanted, and that’s not what you would’ve wanted. People say that time heals all things. I don’t completely agree with that statement. Time and God heal all things…if we let them. Healing from your death was the only one of its kind in my life. It kind of snuck up on me. I didn’t even realize it was happening. That first year was the hardest. Everyday, I thought of you. Everytime I smiled or laughed, I cringed because I thought to myself, “How can you be happy? Tyler’s gone…” But as days turned into months, and months turned into years, I found myself thinking of you less and less. For a long time, it felt as if time had stopped. But it didn’t. Life kept happening. Time kept moving. And it was all without you. New memories were made that you weren’t apart of. New relationships were made that you didn’t get to know. When I looked at your pictures or watched your videos, the strangest feeling would come over me. It was like…I recognized you, but didn’t know you anymore. Like you were this person that used to be in my life a long time ago, but weren’t anymore. Those words don’t even describe the feeling, but that’s the best I can do. But I realized, painfully at first, that that’s exactly what it was. I wasn’t the same person anymore. I had done all this growing and changing without you. I had to grieve it for a moment. But then, I realized…this is God healing me. I didn’t even realize He had been doing it. I was just living life, because it was still happening. I couldn’t stop it. And over time, and through the very act of living, I was being healed. After the initial pain of the realization, I knew it was beautiful and miraculous even…the very wonder of Christ. 
   On your birthday this year, being so far away from home and family, I realize something. Healing from your death has given me more hope than I knew it had. After recently being healed and freed from so many things, I see that over the last year, God has been preparing me, healing me piece by piece, memory by memory. For so long I believed Satan’s lie that I would never heal from brokenness in my life, but your death is living proof in me that I can be. And I am. God has done so many amazing things through your death. Just like He promises. 🙂 But I get to add one more thing to that beautiful list: hope for healing. Always. 

   I don’t hurt anymore when I think of you. But I’ll never forget you either. I love you and miss you. I miss what you could have been in my life. But it’s okay. We’ll have eternity to party and catch up. I love you, Tyler. Happy birthday. Let’s both rejoice.