Never Forget Travis

My grandmother’s birthday was this weekend and I was able to go over and spend some time with her. One of the things we did was pore over a bunch of old photos that my dad has been scanning. Grandma didn’t always recognize everyone because of how much they’ve changed over the years. She made a comment one time about how she doesn’t remember my dad having hair, and another about not remembering my cousin Kim having glasses. It’s always nice to spend time with family remembering past events and those who are no longer with us.

The photo attached was taken at my grandparents’ 50th wedding anniversary. We went out to dinner as a family, and this picture shows my grandparents with their three grandsons. My uncle took the picture and I wish he’d used the flash because this would’ve been a great photo to have now.

Today would have been Travis’ 39th birthday. His birthday comes one day before our Great Uncle Howard’s birthday, while my birthday comes one day after our Great Aunt Nancy’s birthday. That makes it easy to remember their birthdays as well as our own.

I remember one of his birthday cakes very well. It was in the shape of a piano and had the legs and also the open top. It was very cool. Much cooler than the calico cat I had one year. I’ve got a picture of it somewhere, but not handy at the moment.

The attached picture was at one of the family gatherings at our grandparents’ house from the mid-90s.

I didn’t become an EMT until after Travis was gone. When I joined the volunteer ambulance association, I made it very clear to them that I would not respond to suicide calls, particularly ones involving a firearm. At the time it was still within a couple years of his death, and even though I wasn’t the one who found his body I wasn’t ready to deal with that kind of a scene.

Since then I’ve been to a number of suicide crime scenes, though not a firearms one. Because I have been through this myself, I find an empathy and understanding with the family that I would not have had otherwise. As of last night, I now know that I can handle all types of suicide while on duty as a paramedic. And while it made me sad for Travis’ mother who found him and for the new family, it also made me feel empowered that I can offer my support to the family since I have had to go through the same process that they are now just beginning.

I dreamt about Travis last night for the first time in ages. It was an unusual dream in that we were both young instead of current ages. I was 11 or 12 in the dream which made Travis 9 or 10 since it was in the summer time which is when there would only be two years separating our age. (I was born in September ‘67 while he was born in February ‘70.)

Then when I refreshed my cheer pages I discovered that I’d finally broken 200 cheers on this, my number one goal. That was a nice little bit of kismet.

At Travis’ funeral, I broke down and sobbed throughout the whole thing. I continued to have tears pour down my face after the service while standing with the other pallbearers, introducing them to each other. Today at my uncle’s funeral it was dad who is the one that broke down and sobbed. Mom and I comforted him, the same as my cousins Kim and Judy had done for me twelve years ago. Dad actually recovered enough to go up and speak about his brother, telling stories that made people laugh, and others that made them cry.

I was speaking to a family friend after the service and I don’t recall how it came up but we talked about Travis’ funeral as she was there too. She shared what she had said to Travis in the casket. It was so her, and so captured the irritation we all felt that he had taken his own life. I hadn’t said anything to Travis while he was in the coffin. I just straightened his sleeve, looked at the putty and makeup to cover the hole, and kissed his forehead.

I always enjoy looking back at old family photos. They trigger memories of events and shared history that is sometimes forgotten only to be refreshed by the image.

This image is from Travis’ high school graduation party. Travis is standing with my mom, and I remember the first time he discovered he was taller than her. He would always joke with her about it, and it was a bond of love between the two of them. Travis always had a way of making you feel better when he was around, whether it was through jokes or just being himself.

In the background is Travis’ girlfriend. They weren’t together anymore when he died, but I know she was as filled with sorrow as the rest of us were. I haven’t seen her since the funeral, but I hope that she is doing well.

So today I received news that the ex of a friend of mine committed suicide. He was a soldier wounded in Iraq that was back in the states, dealing with his injuries and the price he gave in the service of his country.

Whenever I hear of someone killing themself, I always think about Travis. I actually think about him pretty much every day, but it’s more involved when there’s a fresh trigger. I wonder what the person was thinking, what their motivation was. I wonder if they had made peace with their deity, if they believe in one. I wonder how it will impact their family, and especially the person who found them. I wonder if they left a note with some kind of explanation, or if they didn’t (like Travis).

We’re coming up on 12 years now. The effects of suicide never go away.

Today Travis would’ve been 38. I remember when he turned 18. I was in college, but happened to be home for the weekend around his birthday. He had come out to see Grandma and Grandpa, and then came next door to see us. He and I went up to my bedroom and chatted about all different things, recalling childhood adventures and reliving good memories. I didn’t have a card for him as I hadn’t expected to see him, but the time spent together was gift enough.

I dreamt about him last week and we were reminiscing old times in the dream. I’m never sad when I dream about him, as the dreams keep him fresh in my memory.

The picture is one of the last I have of him, just over a month before his suicide. We were at his father’s house celebrating his half-brother’s birthday. Also in the picture is our grandma and grandpa.

It was the winter of ‘78 or ‘79 and I would’ve been 10-12, while Travis would’ve been 7-9 as I don’t recall the exact year or month. Travis was staying at Grandma and Grandpa’s for the weekend, and he and I went out together in our snow suits to play in the snow. There was a pond in the field below my grandparents’ house, and we knew it froze over in the winter. We’d take snow shovels down and clear off the snow, then go skating on the ice. Sometimes the ice wasn’t solid enough on the edges, but we’d go out onto it anyway, our boots getting wet but our feet were still dry.

This one time it was just me and Trav on the pond. There was snow up to our waists in the field, but it was a bright sunny day with blue skies. We were on the ice, and I remember seeing cracks, but it always had cracks. The ice broke way and Travis was on an ice flow, holding onto it to keep from going into the pond. I laid down on the ice and used the snow shovel to pull him toward me, but then the ice below me broke also. I don’t remember how, but I got us both out and we were completely soaked.

We had to work our way through the snow, which was very hard due to our soaked snow suits and boots. It was less than a quarter mile, but we were both pretty frozen solid by the time we got to grandmas. She got our wet stuff off and put it in the dryer, and bundled us up. We got home made hot cocoa to help warm us up as we sat bundled in our blankets.

We were lucky. We both survived and lived to play other days. I spent this morning recovering a child that wasn’t as lucky. I wonder if he had had a cousin with him if his cousin would have been able to get him out.

Eleven years ago around this time I was driving past my cousin Travis’ apartment. I had been talking to my parents about stopping to see him, but I had stopped and seen my great aunt at the nursing home and was running later than I wanted. So I drove right past his apartment on my way to Erie to see some friends from Toronto before driving home to Coudersport. Sometime later in the day Travis took his own life.

Not stopping is one of my biggest regrets in my life. I know that if I had stopped I would not have changed his mind. (My dad said he was glad I hadn’t stopped because he would not have wanted Travis to shoot me too.) I wish I had stopped so I would’ve had one more memory of Travis.

We’d had some good times that month. Our last couple of times together were filled with love and laughter, during Labor Day and my birthday party. I just wish I had made him a priority this day eleven years ago. I hope those of you reading this will always make the people you care about priority in your life.