This is not a memory, but instead something that happened after I heard that Tim had passed away.  My wife and I were in Charlotte visiting our son Ryan and future daughter in law, Andrea.  We were all sitting at a brewery on a hot summer day, when I received the text message that Tim had left us.  All I could think to do was raise my glass and when everyone responded, I just said "To Tim" as we clanked our glasses together.  It was difficult to even say those 2 words without tearing up, and when I told my family that he had passed there were more tears, more frogs in throats.  We had stayed at the brewery for a few minutes longer before heading back to Ryan and Andrea's apartment.  

The combination of the news, the heat, and a couple beers had me feeling drained.  I needed to decompress and excused myself to lay down for a bit to process Tim's passing.  I put headphones on and chose a napping music channel - yes there really is such a thing.  It is mostly calming piano music.  As I laid there, I was overcome with this feeling that I just wanted time to say a few words to Tim one last time.  I imagined myself leaving my body and floating upwards.  I just kept rising, first to the clouds, and then through them.  I was not nervous or afraid.  I did not wonder how I would find Tim.  I knew I was on a direct flight to him. 

Up above the clouds, I just stopped and there he was.  We were a few steps away from one another, and I just began to smile.  The kind of smile that masks a laugh.  I knew what it looked like on me, because Tim was wearing the same exact expression.  He was wearing an untucked white long-sleeved button-down shirt.  You know the type - loose fitting, linen, or some other material that screams Caribbean vacation.  He had the sleeves rolled up to the elbow at he often did.  He had white long pants on and was wearing flip flops.  The only thing missing was a Hawaiian Lei around his neck. 

As I approached, our smiles got bigger, and he gave me a shoulder shrug, knowing exactly what I was thinking.  Tim was always more Johnny Cash than Good Humor man when it came to his wardrobe, but he seemed very content and comfortable in his new look.  As I approached, I said, "it looks good on you", and we both let out a chuckle.

I started to look around at this place we were in together.  There was no ocean, or sand, or trees, but I was overcome with the feeling of being on vacation.  It was quiet and peaceful.  It was bright and light.  It was so calming and so beautiful, yet there were no objects, no landscape in sight. 

I reached out my hand to greet Tim and he quickly obliged.  He then pulled me closer and gave me one of those bro hugs, the kind that attempt to look 'macho' but are full of sentiment anyway.  I stepped back and began saying what I had come here for in the first place.  I told Tim that I missed him.  I told him his was a raw deal, and that I felt both anger and sadness in processing this, but mostly anger.  This just should not happen to good souls.  He was trying to do something good for himself and disguised within his weight loss transformation was this cruel and unrelenting disease.  I told him that we all loved him.  His family loves him.  I told him our hearts were broken, but we will rally together to make it through.

Tim stepped back and shot a look over his shoulders, recognizing, his surroundings.  He gave one more of those infectious smiles and said "I am good Scott", "I'm OK here".  I looked around too, and immediately felt the same.  This place, whatever it was/is, it is amazing.  As I started to walk away, I turned to say "Save me some of the wonderful new stories you will have to share when we meet again", and as if he already knew what I was saying, before the last word hit my mouth, he said "you know I will - I look forward to it".

With that, I floated back down to my sleeping self, and just laid there, wondering what in the world just happened.  Was it a dream?  I only had 2 beers.  Did I conjure that up like some Lifetime movie script?  Or?  Did it really happen - Did Tim and I have one of those Supernatural moments he believed to happen all the time?  

Regardless, I will now always remember our farewell for the rest of my days.  Karen and Dylan and all of us who feel this tragic loss, Tim is in good hands.  It will be a trying road ahead - memories are a double-edged sword,  On the one hand, a memory can warm our hearts, make us smile, make our soul sing with joy.  On the other, it makes us weep, and long for days gone by or dreams unfulfilled.  But, together, we will all be OK.  Together, there are laughs still to be had, and tears still to shed. 

Tim, we will miss you, my friend. Thank you for sharing your stories, your life, your beliefs and the good times we've had together.  What I will remember most, is you were always a dreamer, always believing there was some other experience out there in this world that is worth chasing.  Also, that accent, so awesome.  You often referred to yourself as the 'foreigner' in the United States no one paid any attention to, but truth be told, when you spoke, you were larger than life and always had a captive audience.  Americans love the accent...and a good story.  Until we meet again, Cheers!!
Oh, and Tim, if that was you, feel free to visit my dreams anytime!!