Good Morning.

I stand before you to deliver these words of memorial; words that are to celebrate the life of Timothy. Although read and spoken by me, are from Timothy’s mother and father. There are no words of solace;…

When Timmy was one year old, I started buying him Hot Wheels.  At first it started with the Happy Meals at McDonald’s.  I would stop at the McDonald’s near Girard Avenue and buy the Happy Meal, eat the burger, fries, and slurp down the soda just to get the toy car for my son.  Timmy enjoyed playing with the Hot Wheels and Matchbox.  I started going to Toys R Us just to find…

A baby cries being born; around my finger his hand curled…

Like most kids, the Power Rangers were a part of my Timmy’s television favorites. It started with the repeats of the original series and the subsequent series. Tim’s toy chest was filled with Power Ranger action figures and Zords, the separate vehicles of each Power Ranger that would combine to giant robot…

When Gi was pregnant with Timmy, Live, an alternative rock group from York, PA, released their album Throwing Copper.  There was a song, Lightning Crashes that…

Like most kids a love of milk shakes begins in early childhood. The blending of milk, syrup, and ice cream, to make a refreshing drink made to a desired consistency to be slurped through a straw and promise an almost instant cooling. Timmy was no different. He was thrilled when I took him to the local Wawa…

I was lead from the Family Room to the Emergency Room. I was crossing my arms across my chest; hugging myself – clutching my hat in one hand. I didn’t want to see my son lifeless. I wanted to see him sitting up in a gurney, embarrassed with a cut, a broken arm or leg. But that wasn’t meant to be. He laid there hospital gown and sheet. The intubation tube still in his mouth,…

Here I am on the eve of Father’s Day; a day that is supposed to honor fathers.  Instead of looking forward to the little homemade gifts and cards, I dread the thought as I grieve my son’s death.  My Timothy gave it a purpose.  I have fifteen years of Father’s Day memories that came from my son – from a Hallmark card written by his mother a month before his birth,…

Pull down the shades and draw the curtains,

Shut off the phone, lock the door; hang the black wreath

Allow me to feel the pain of my grief

Let me taste the burning salt of my angry tears

An unfinished story; pages torn and ripped out

Dented metal and a boy’s broken body

An angel wishes to escort him Home

Before…

Every Christmas, multitudes of parents flock to the malls to stand in line waiting to have their children photographed with Santa.  There was no difference with my family when it came to Timmy.  I had graduated from the Police Academy in June, 1998 when Timmy was just shy of his third birthday.  Since Timmy was born friends had told his mother and…

I was working one day in the summer of 1999; I was on patrol with my partner.  I was a year out of the Police Academy.  In my uniformed hat I had a photo sticker of Timmy.  It was about an hour into the tour when I suddenly felt sick to my stomach.  I felt as if I was about to vomit.  I didn’t know why; this was new – I never felt this acute and sudden wave of nausea.  I…