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This memorial is sponsored by:

Pawka and Pawpa are proud to sponsor Tylers site

Memorial created 03-22-2009 by
Robin Hudson
Tyler Hudson
January 22 1990 - March 29 2008

All Materials on this website are copyrighted!

This is a poem that Tyler's dad wrote for him the weekend that he died.
Our Beacon of Light
by Dean Hudson
The gift of our son we have throughout our being.
Our shooting star, burning bright and always shinning.
A soul and heart that could never be confined.
By Laughter and Compassion you are defined.
You entered our lives with courage and might.
            In the harbor of need you are the Beacon of Our Light.
            Your days on this earth too brief in days and years.
            Proven by the lives you touched that God always hears.
            You brought so much joy and love to ever be eclipsed.
            Every heart and soul who knew your love is truly blessed.
            No longer do your days require your mortal fight.
            To those you touched you continue to be the Beacon of Light.

Written by Robin Hudson 5 months after losing her son, Tyler


I lost my child

Oh I am so sorry
Had he been sick?
Yes, he died by suicide
Oh? you lost your child

I thought you said he had been sick?
Yes he was
He had a cancer
A cancer you say?
Yes a cancer!

How do you see that?
Because it spread throughout his body
It took over his will
I lost my child

My son may have died by suicide
But his mind was so very ill

Does it matter how he died?
Well no
Does it make it hurt any less?
Well no

I lost my child
It does not matter how
It does not define who he was
I lost my child

I still hurt
Like any other parent who has lost a child
I still miss my child
Like any other parent who has lost a child

I lost my child
He was so very ill
Please don't be afraid
I need you around
Don't you see I am so very frail?

I lost my child
Let's break the silence
And fight for someone else's will
I don't want anyone else to lose their child
Because we were silent

I lost my child
And I can not be silenced anymore!


 Are You There?
by Diane Robertson

Misty breeze wraps about my shoulders, thinly clad.
I shiver not, despite the coolness on my skin.
Comfort, I now feel.
Is it you my precious Angel?
Are you there? I cannot hear your quiet voice,
But bird song fills the air
From high treetops to grassy marsh.
I wonder – is it you, Dear? Are you there?
The roses in your garden bloom large,
And varied in hue from crimson deep, to barely pink.
I cup the velvet bud, its fragrance soothes a troubled mind.
This must be you, my little boy. Are you there?
Are you the fiery autumn maples,
Or the star-like flakes of snow?
Are you the sparkle in the water of the lake that we both loved,
Or, perhaps, the warmth I feel in the sand beneath my toes?
Though your quiet voice I cannot hear,
Nor can I see again your sparkling eyes,
Or feel your dainty hand laid gently on my own,
You are here.
For memory's book will never close –
Each lovely sound, or sight, or scent,
Another page from special times that we have shared.
Oh, yes! You are here child – everywhere


Forever Changed
By Rhonda Wilson
North Carolina

Can you see the change in me?  It may not be so obvious to you.
I participate in family activities. I attend family reunions.  I help plan
holiday meals. You tell me you’re glad to see that I don’t cry any more. 

But I do cry.  When everyone has gone—when it is safe—the tears fall.  I
cry in privacy so my family won’t worry.  I cry until I am exhausted and can
finally fall asleep.

I’m active in my church.  I sing hymns.  I listen to the sermon.  You tell me
you admire my strength and my positive attitude. 

But I’m not strong.  I feel that I have lost control, and I panic when I think
about tomorrow…next week…next month…next year. 

I go about the routines of my job.  I complete my assigned tasks.  I drink
coffee and smile.  You tell me you’re glad to see I’m “over” the death of my
loved one.

But I’m not “over it.”  If I get over it, I will be the same as before my loved
one died.  I will never be the same.  At times I think I am beginning to heal,
but the pain of losing someone I loved so much has left a permanent scar on
my heart.

I visit my neighbors.  You tell me you’re glad to see I’m holding up so well. 

But I’m not holding up so well.  Sometimes I want to lock my door and hide
from the world.

I spend time with friends.  I appear calm and collected.  I smile when
appropriate.  You may tell me it’s good to see me back to my “old self.”

But I will never be back to my “old self.”  Death and grief have touched my
life, and I am forever changed.


All poems have been used with authors permission


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