Just Smile
and
Have a Good Day

A year ago tonight, I heard his voice and saw his face for the last time. The joy that rang out of Tyler was that of a boy becoming a man. He had booked a hotel on his own for the first time and was anxiously awaiting the arrival of his friend, Dayton. They had planned another adventure together in preparation for the car/bike show on Labor Day in Middleton.

The video call over Facetime panned the view of his hotel room and then the view of the city outside. He showed me the McDonald’s that was across the 4-lane road, out his window, as he contemplated out-loud how he was going to get the Chicken Nuggets to bring back to the room. He showed me the bathroom, the closet, the bed and the couch area. He showed me every part of the room and the joy in his voice was uplifting me. He couldn’t wait to call Dad next, to show him the same things.

Becoming “Smiles” and helping with the Faith Over Fear Automotive Community had grown Tyler’s confidence on his motorcycle and in person when he was wearing his helmet/mask. The hidden identity brought out a goofy and joyful version of Ty that this mother’s heart had missed for some time. Tyler, without the leather and the bike, dealt with social anxiety and allergies. The pain he experienced from his stomach problems was more than he ever really told, and the decisions of life as he was becoming an adult weighed on his gentle soul. BUT…when the helmet went on and he became “Smiles”, he was the Tyler I recall from his youth. He was afraid of nothing and he loved to talk to people about riding motorcycles and Jesus. On that Sunday night before Labor Day 2025, THIS was the version on the other side of the phone. Tyler, without the helmet, was happy, excited, and full of joy! He was outgoing and sharing his life with his mom (and dad). At the age of 20, he was including me in his adventures and I will hold that phone call that would prove to be our last, in my heart forever!

As I look at my watch and see that it is now September 1, it gets more difficult to put the words on the page. For the past year I have tried to write more. The words come but they run circles in my brain, like the motorcycles in the cage at the circus. They ride around and around and around, going ever faster and trying to not hit each other. The words spin circles and fail to leave my head in a clear logical manner. Some days my arms feel ready to type but I just think about writing a post and the words run down my arms but jump, slide or are pushed off before they can reach my hands and they are a jumbled mess of thoughts about everything in life. The turbulent flow of the thoughts trying to make the final draft run over and hide the thoughts about Tyler being gone. If I don’t actually think about it, it won’t hurt as much, is the lie my brain tells my heart. The words flow, but they don’t make the page, as my hands would rather work on my job or play a game on my phone. They may have disappeared for now, but they remain in my thoughts, in the hidden crevices of memories, in the things I see and hear throughout the day that bring back memories or wishes for things that will never be. Words, words, words… They consume me and I do not sleep.

But then…I find peace in the silence, when I focus on Ty’s story and the Goodness of God, and the words start to flow like chocolate running down the top of an ice cream sundae. There are still other thoughts, like motorcycles, trying to get in the way, but I say a prayer and the clarity starts to come and before I know it my fingers are moving and the words are flowing across the page.

It’s September 1. He’s been gone a year. Life is completely different now but through it all this remains ~ God is Still Good ~ and Ty is still rejoicing in Heaven. I still don’t understand. I probably never will. But I don’t have to understand why Tyler’s time on earth was through to know it was all part of God’s plan. I do know it hurts. It really hurts. Personally, I can’t dwell on the fact that he’s gone or I’d be crying all of the time. I have been able to put my grief aside and although it rides along with me wherever I go, I do my best to keep my focus on things above and on God’s perfect plan and not let it consume me. I don’t always have the words and as I think more about him being gone it is becoming more difficult to make words into sentences. I needed to get the words out and in print while they were cooperating with my brain but as the night continues on, I need to sleep so I will finish this sentence, put away my computer, and through the tears I can feel welling up, I’ll look out the window of our 10th floor apartment at the perfectly placed McDonald’s, just across the street and in view from our living room window. Then I’ll replay Ty’s sweet video call in my mind, as I imagine him walking across the street to get his nuggets and wait for Dayton.

I miss you my sweet boy, but I rejoice knowing where you are and the legacy you left behind through your life as Ty and your personal and online connections as Smiles. Happy 1 year in Heaven!

Love,

~Mom