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No Pain Is Worse
Sep 12, 2002

I lost my 8 year old son July 24, 2002. Tyler had just returned home after a 4-week visit with his dad. His grandpa was excited that he was home and wanted to spend some time with him and his older brother. Grandpa took the boys fishing at a local reservoir. Tyler told his grandpa he was going to the car to get something, and the next thing grandpa knew, he saw Tyler in the water being carried away by the current. The water moved so fast, there was nothing that could be done.
I found out upon returning home from work. There were messages on my machine that I needed to call the sheriff's office. I made the call and was told only that I needed to go to the local hospital, I refused to go until they told me what was wrong. I hear the voice in my head over and over..."It's Tyler. No, he's not o.k." I fell to the floor, I couldn't breathe. It was so unbelievable. My precious baby boy was gone.
It hasn't been that long and I still cry everyday. I can't imagine living the rest of my life in so much pain. Sometimes I can't breathe, I can't think, I just can't function...yet I continue to go on. It doesn't seem right, but what choice do I have? It's the most unimagineable thing in the world and it's happened to me...why?
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