Date: Mon 01/20/03 04:31AM
From: Tucker Lucas
Email:
Message: You know, I was never personally close to Tyler, but I
did know him, and thought it would be appropriate for
me to share a story. It proves how Tyler touched even
those who were not close to him.
In 9th grade, me and Tyler had first semester Health
with Mrs. Maluski. The relationship between Maluski
and Eicholtz was always interesting, due to the fact
that so many teachers 'loved' Tyler's sense of
classroom humor. Which made sex ed. even more
interesting.
One day we were preparing for that chapter test, and
Maluski was writing clues on the board and asked what
we'd associate them with on the test. After every one,
Tyler would non-chalantly look to a classmate and make
a joke, ones way of dealing with the uncomfortable
subject matter. After about the fifth time, an enraged
Maluski turned around, made an odd hand gesture and
said, "Tyler, what do you associate with this?" in the
most menacing tone she could muster.
A wide-eyed Tyler answered, "Um... hitting a
baseball."
He never spoke out of turn the rest of the semester.
Tyler has made me thankful that I have not had to
endure so far the type of grief that his family is
dealing with now. But as I told this story at his
prayer service, I looked over at his parents and
sister and saw a strength that I've never beheld in
anyone else.
Grief is easily identifiable. To notice grief, you
listen to the songs on the radio. Music is nothing but
a series of sad and happy moments put to song. So you
know the grief is true when you hear that music, the
sad parts are very sad, and the happy parts are even
sadder.
See you on the other side Ty. And while you're up
there... give 'em hell.
-Tucker Lucas
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If I see my pillow taking on human shapes, then those shapes are there, and if someone says that they are only generated by imagination, I will reply: Only you say?
-August Strindberg
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