Dear Tyko,

Today, you would have turned 58. And while I don’t believe in a heaven paved with light or an all-seeing deity tallying our deeds, somewhere deep inside, there’s still a hope – a quiet wish that you’re out there somewhere, beyond the reach of the pain that forced you to leave us.

You’re missed – deeply, daily – and the silence around how you left us is still heavy with unanswered questions.

Maybe the truth is buried too deep. Still, your absence speaks louder than any explanation ever could.

I often wonder how you would have handled today’s world – how fractured and tribal it’s all become. Even our own family – on Dad’s side – has drifted into separate camps, no longer talking or sharing our commonalities, but instead living in echo chambers and milking the tribal cows for all they’re worth.

You and I talked about stuff like this time and time again – how we should focus on what we have in common, not what sets us apart.

So yes, I miss you – today more than most – but maybe, in a way, it’s just as well that you don’t have to witness how little we’ve learned from history, how far we’ve strayed from kindness, from connection, from each other.

As always, I carry your memory quietly –
still warm, still glowing.

With love – always.

Kim