Dear Tyler,

Well your mom has officially lost it. I bought my very own Fiero today and couldn't be more excited. I think you must have left a little of your car madness behind for me. You would like all the people we have become friends with because of you and your car. I think if you were here you would probably shake your head, but you would be the first one out there fixing it up. I think about you all the time, but I think of you the most when we are in the Fieros. Funny how I never cared one way or the other about these "toys" of yours, but now they seem to be a focus. I guess it is my way of feeling you. I wish I would have tried to understand all of this while you were still here. It's hard to be the mom of a grown up boy. I tried to be more traditional. You could always count on me to remember things for you, be there for you, take care of things for you. Sometimes I wish I would have been more "fun," but I am more than grateful that you always knew you could count on me and that makes me feel really good.

I miss you like crazy and am having a very hard time with God right now. I just can't reconcile the fact that you are gone. It feels like I am just waking up from a horrible dream, like the last 10 months is a hazy memory. I just want to rewind and see you again, give you a big hug, tell you what a great boy you are.  I think about your big smile and look at pictures. Even when you were sick your smile is the same, maybe even a little bigger. I'm so sorry I couldn't fix you.

Carter and Cassie are getting ready to start school. It feels strange getting them ready and not you. This would have been our first year with you not being in school. I remember looking forward to that, like our job was finally done raising you. I feel sad that I would ever think having you out of the house and on your own would be a good thing. I know in my head that is natural, but this whole thing is so unnatural that I feel turned inside out. The kids are doing really well I think. They like to talk about you and they really miss you too. Cassie mentioned today the kind of cancer you had. I was surprised she remembered such big words, but she always has been a listener.

Dad, well he is like a lost puppy some days. He misses you constantly. He is busy getting the trucks ready for potatoes. It's hard not to think about how excited you were to buy your truck last year. You had your future mapped out. you had a plan.

I guess that's it for now. It feels good to talk to you like this. I should do it more often.

Love you buddy,

Mom