I MISS THE CHIRP

At some point each day I stop, pause, and shake my head. It’s been 2.5 years since Tyler passed away. I can hardly say that without taking that pause – that moment to process what I am saying. I know it happened - I was there each and every heart-breaking and faith promoting step with Tyler, but it is still so very surreal. I miss him more than I could ever express.

This past week my wife and I were talking about how quiet our home is now. Our daughters are grown – my oldest has been married for two years and my youngest is away at school and getting married in the spring. We are blessed that we have Tanner, who will be fourteen next month, still at home with us. He is equally as amazing as his brother. I love my Tanner man. Sometimes I forget that when we lost our son, he lost his best friend.

We have lived in our home for over eleven years now and for most of them we have had the most temperamental smoke detector on the planet. It is on the main floor and it seemed like I had to climb a ladder weekly and re-position or replace the battery to stop that ever-familiar annoying chirp.

Chirp.

Chirp.

Chirp.

Our home doesn’t have a basement so the second floor became the playground and gymnasium for a couple of very active boys. Tyler and Tanner would play some modified indoor version of football and baseball nightly. From the main level the noise from upstairs sounded like the entire Pittsburgh Steelers offensive line had joined them.

Chirp.

Chirp.

Chirp.

It wasn’t until Tyler was sick and the chirping stopped that we realized it was the never-ending games of football and baseball that shook the floor and jarred the smoke detector battery out of place. I can’t begin to tell you how much I miss that ever-familiar and annoying chirp. Occasionally, I will be somewhere, typically a store, and I will hear a faint chirp of a smoke detector that needs a new battery. I can’t help but think of my boys and the wonderfully annoying noise produced by my very own Pittsburgh Steelers offensive line that practiced nightly on the second floor.

Chirp.

Chirp.

Chirp.

I miss the chirp.

Cherish every moment.

Tyler’s Dad Whatever It Takes

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