When it happens that you lose a child or a partner, or someone close, your life is divided forever into a before and after. When the later times begin, the earlier times acquire a lightness of being, an almost enviable innocence, which seems lost in the later times. A weight now lives around the heart, feet move more slowly, speech is softer, and with all this comes a Hercilian sensitivity to the world around us. The birdsong, the blue skies and the starry nights seem to offend the shadow of our tragedy as if we were wondering how can you enjoy any of this now? This life changing experience comes like a thief in the night and no matter how prepared we think we are, it always ambush us.
So it was with my son, Tyson. At 23 years old he was going to graduate from university, but in his place he graduated from life. He had been fighting a vicious cancer in his body for a year and a half (melanoma). For me it was a year and a half of disbelief, of denying the sinister possibility that his illness promised. It was inconceivable to me that, in the grand scheme of things, such a kind and wonderful person could be taken from this land that needed him so desperately. Well, he passed away on June 7, 2000. I realized then that we are not meant to understand anything. Nothing made sense. The questions were so unanswerable that I just chalked it up to the mystery of life and began to believe that if there is a master plan, we have no idea what it is and are not meant to solve it.
Life had engaged me in a duel and won. I had to feel my wounds for more than 2 years and after that, feel the scars forever. It’s funny how life goes by. You think that this bread that you carry with you would be visible to anyone looking at you. But in reality, it resides, hidden, like an unwelcome guest in your bowels. I felt like I was started into a club that I didn’t want to join and had a lifetime membership.
When enough time had passed, I was able to be comforted by the memories of Tyson. She was grateful to have been his mother. I could appreciate that he had been blessed with an angel. Tyson was truly the most wonderful boy. I don’t remember ever having to discipline him. That makes him an angel, doesn’t it? How many moms could say that? So yeah, I was lucky to have had him in my life for 23 years.
Such a special person needs to live and inspire even after they are no longer with us. With this in mind, I established the ‘Tyson Murray Kind Spirit Award’ at his high school, Tagwi Secondary School, in Avonmore, Ontario. The award goes to the student who best exemplifies Tyson’s qualities of kindness, thoughtfulness, compassion, and tolerance. The serving student receives $1,000 and a plaque. I know Tyson would be very pleased to know that he continues to influence people in a positive way. For me, the Award acts as a bridge between before and after. And as the years go by, the place in my heart for Tyson melts from pain to pleasure, from pain to pride, from questioning to acceptance. Life will never be the same without him. I will never forget the earlier times, but I have to make the most of life without him in these later times.