Lapse in memory.

You will not find humor, wittiness, nor thoughtfully constructed sentences in this post. No. You will only find truth.

Tyler Poole was my neighbor for six years. He was my first older crush. I adored him. He would play basketball with Justin or throw a baseball around. I wasn't included. Which was fine. Cause he was pretty to look at. He was friends with the Hedrick girls down the street. He was a popular guy. Not an only child. But treated like one. He had numerous vehicles. His first vehicle, a black ford f-150, was wrecked on Old Beatty's Ford Road when he reached for something (a cd I think) and lost control. He broke his left arm (I think, could've been his right). I picked him flowers and brought them over. He had a girlfriend at the time, Maggie. He also got a Maltese. Also named Maggie. I remember going into his bedroom and my mama hugging him and telling him how glad she was that he was okay. They had to put a steel rod in his arm. His muscle grew around the rod and they were unable to take it out. Then he had the beige ford f-150. This vehicle he did not wreck. This was the vehicle that he would take me to school in my freshman year of high school. Some mornings, at least. He got his tongue pierced one weekend. The following Monday, he was constantly spitting. When we got to school, and parked in the teacher's parking lot which was a "no, no," he pulled out the Listerine to show me what he was spitting and told me why. I thought it was silly. After he graduated from high school, he moved on to a bigger, better truck. A Ford Lightning. I haven't seen one on the roads in ages. But he loved his truck. He would wash it once, maybe twice, a week. After he finished washing it, he would drive down our road to dry it off. He loved that truck.

I cleaned his parents house. Gary and Vickie paid me to do it. Which was nice. I remember taking extra time to clean his room. Baseballs, trophies, video games haphazardly placed. We were invited to Mr. Trail's wedding in December (we being all of his current and former students and a crap load of other people). Tyler took me. We picked up Dexter and Chad on the way. Sat through the ceremony. Then he took me home. He wasn't like an older brother. He would have to care to be something of the sort. I just enjoyed being in his company. For many reasons. He was hot. He was popular and I wasn't (something I had on all the other girls in my class that drooled over him. I was his neighbor. I cleaned his room. I saw his underwear! Take that). And, I always hoped that one day, he might decide to, oh, I don't know, date me. The thought of it wasn't ludicrous then. Well, it was but, I was hopelessly in love with someone so unreachable, so intangible to me.

One Saturday afternoon, Mama and I had just gotten back from Mooresville, we did a little shopping, to find my father bloodied and burnt. He started a fire and it came flying back at him. I sat in the drive way, scared, crying. I didn't want to go with them to the hospital. I stayed over at Tyler's. Vickie let me watch TV in the living room. Tyler came in and asked me if I was okay. He was headed to a Tim McGraw (I believe) concert. He asked me if I would iron a shirt for him. It was a cream, red, blue, and green plaid (my description makes the shirt sound hideous but, it really wasn't) Tommy button-up. He dressed, in that shirt, blue jeans, a cowboy hat, and boots, and headed out the door.

He threw a party when his parents were out of town. A lot of the kids from my class were there. Dad went over to have a beer with them (oh the joys of having an alcoholic father) and told Tyler to have the people who were parked in Nancy's lawn (our neighbor) to move into our yard. Dad, Justin, and I went over to his house the following morning to help him clean up. There were a lot of bottles. A lot. Months after the party, I was cleaning the house and found a Corona bottle with a mold-y, fungus-y lime in it. Disgusting. Tyler graduated from high school and went up to Surry Community College to play baseball. He was only there one semester and came home to work for Gary.

He hadn't been home long. He was on his way to meet some friends down at the beach for spring break on April 9th, 2004. He took St. Stephen's Church Road (why? I will never understand that boy's sense of direction). His truck slid on the gravel laid out on a turn. He wasn't wearing his seat belt. His body had been thrown from the vehicle. Had been landed on by the vehicle. Had been left for someone to find.

I was at my dad's house when Nicole called to tell me. We all piled in the living room. Waiting to hear the awful news on TV. Channel 9. Brandon Trexler appeared saying he told Tyler to just wait and come down the next day. I was in shock. How could he be gone? He was only 19. He was just washing his truck the other day.

My softball games were canceled. Too many players would miss the game to go to the viewing. This kid was loved. By EVERYONE. I went with my dad and brother. My mama met us there. We waited in line to sign the book, sign the poster, and see him. A bunch of people waiting to get a glimpse of Tyler. A dead teenager. We walked up to the casket. It was open. He didn't look like the Tyler I remembered seeing. No. This Tyler had make-up on. Oh, but something was familiar. The shirt. They buried him in the shirt I ironed for him once upon a time. The shirt that I so horribly described to y'all earlier. Why that shirt?!

The service was held at Emanuel Lutheran Church and it was packed. People were standing in the aisles, in the back of the church, and outside. I was bawling my eyes out. Brandon Sides played the guitar and Gary spoke.

Justin played on the baseball team. Tyler was their first base coach. The first game after his death? They laid an East Rowan baseball hat down on the first base line. For him. For their beloved coach.

Looking back, it's almost as if I don't know him. Almost as if I wrote this to remind myself of who he was to me. It's easy to forget after six plus years. Not that he is no longer with us. But, how amazing, how real he once was. Tyler's family doesn't need to be reminded of that. They know. I think I just forgot.