One week ago, September 20, 2009, the world and the Andrews family lost a precious blessing. My little brother, Thomas Joseph Andrews, finally lost his battle with muscular dystrophy. He was airlifted into the University of Alberta Hospital the previous Wednesday evening fighting pneumonia, and fell into a coma on Thursday. Tara, Bryan, their kids, myself, and the new love of my life drove to Edmonton Saturday morning to visit him. At the time, we did not know his condition, but upon reaching the hospital it became apparent that this was likely the end. I chose to stay longer while the rest went back to Calgary. Dad and Violet had been there since Friday. Kevin and his girlfriend Kelsey came up Saturday evening from being in Calgary for a wedding, and Stephanie and her boyfriend came Sunday morning. My step-brother Brent came Sunday as well. My other step-siblings, Renee and Matthew, were unable to be there, but Violet had a cell phone and had each of them say good-bye to TJ. All of Shelly's family was there, and the conference room in the ICU was overrun by the combined families. Several good friends came to pay their last respects and best wishes. I stayed at Matt Harker's place and had a great visit with him and Eric Peterson at the Institute of religion a few blocks away. It was a sad time, but there was many moments of peace that I had felt.
On Sunday morning, the doctors informed us that there was nothing that could be done. We waited for as much of the family that could make it to get there, and at 4:15 TJ's breathing tube was disconnected. He continued to breathe for what seemed like hours, but in reality it was minutes. His beloved wife, Shelly, climbed up onto the bed beside him during his last moments. He passed away at 4:50 pm.
My brother was such an extraordinary man, although I will always think of him as a kid.
I had Matt come and pick me up from the hospital, and we drove out to Sherwood Park to his parents where we had dinner. he, his dad, and I then went to a stake priesthood meeting, where I informed old friends and acquaintances of TJ's passing. I caught a bus down to Calgary the next day (with a fever from a cold I had caught that weekend), and spent Tuesday resting and writing my brother's eulogy. I returned to Edmonton Wednesday, and went to his funeral the next day. My dad, TJ's father-in-law, Clark Lybbert, and myself dressed TJ for his funeral in his temple clothes.
His funeral was an amazing experience. There were well over 400 people in attendance with many more who wanted to come. We sang the opening hymn, "I Know That My Redeemer Lives", then had the opening prayer. I started things off with TJ's eulogy. Before I began, in what I think was a real treat for my brother, I took off my suit jacket and pulled on an Oiler jersey, and then read my 10 page eulogy to my brother. There were many chuckles during the eulogy, which is what I wanted. I knew TJ wanted us to laugh and celebrate his life instead of mourn and grieve. TJ's father-in-law, David Richardson, then gave his own eulogy to my brother, speaking of TJ's life with the family. TJ's brother-in-law, Corey Hill, rewrote the lyrics to Candle in the Wind and sang it. Afterwards, there were tributes made by my father, Terri Tumack and Paul McGonigal from Musclar Dystrophy Canada (Terri's own son has MD, and Paul represented the firefighters who have taken up MD as their cause), and Jason Miller, who was an old roommate of TJ's. We sang "Come, Thou Font of Every Blessing", and then another former roommate and close friend of TJ's, Jared Pitcher, spoke on the Plan of Salvation. My step-brother, Matthew Leitch, who could not attend, had written a song about TJ and it was played next. TJ's Bishop, Bishop Huff, spoke next, and then we closed with "I Am a Child of God".
TJ was buried at the Darwell cemetery at 6 pm that evening. Myself, Kevin, Brent Leitch, Johnathan Richardson, Corey Hill, and Jordie Woodruff were the pallbearers. Dad dedicated the grave and my little brother was finally laid to rest.
I cannot think of anything else that would sum up my feelings any better than the eulogy I wrote for TJ. It is a surreal time for me now, as I had always known that this day would come, but it just does not seem real that he is gone. I know Shelly will miss him the most, but we will all miss his smile and positive outlook. I personally am grateful for the outpouring of support that I have received, from friends, family, and aquaintences. I am grateful for my colleagues at FFCA High School who have helped me out by looking after my classes while I was gone. I am grateful for the Harkers, Schwarzers, and Lybberts for their support as well as my own family. I am grateful for the Olers, the Dorwards, the Petersens, and so many others who have reached out in sympathy and kindness. I am grateful for the Richardsons for their strength ad compassion. I am also very grateful for Heather, who has been a rock of support for me throughout all of this. Whether she realizes it or not, she has been what has kept me going during this more than anything or anyone.
Eulogy for Thomas Joseph Andrews
Thomas Joseph Andrews, or T.J. as we know him, was born on October 28, 1978. He was born with muscular dystrophy, a degenerative muscle disorder. He passed away because of it this past Sunday, September 20, 2009. While these dates are merely the bookends of his life, it is the almost 31 years in between that I would like to speak on, as that is the most important part of any person’s life. And while all of us mourn his passing and grieve for the loss of such a noble child of God, I would like to honour my little brother’s life with a sense of celebration, hope, and joy. Indeed, I hope that we will all be able to smile and laugh and comfort each other as we reminisce on the life of one who has touched so many, more than was ever thought to be possible. You see, when we adopted TJ into our family, we were told many things that he would not be able to do. As it turns out, TJ did many of them anyways.
I would like to begin by sharing a poem that has come to mean a great deal to me in the past year.
The Dash
by Linda Ellis
I read of a man who stood to speak
At the funeral of a friend
He referred to the dates on her tombstone
From the beginning to the end
He noted that first came the date of her birth
And spoke the following date with tears,
But he said what mattered most of all
Was the dash between those years
For that dash represents all the time
That she spent alive on earth.
And now only those who loved her
Know what that little line is worth.
For it matters not how much we own;
The cars, the house, the cash,
What matters is how we live and love
And how we spend our dash.
So think about this long and hard.
Are there things you’d like to change?
For you never know how much time is left,
That can still be rearranged.
If we could just slow down enough
To consider what’s true and real
And always try to understand
The way other people feel.
And be less quick to anger,
And show appreciation more
And love the people in our lives
Like we’ve never loved before.
If we treat each other with respect,
And more often wear a smile
Remembering that this special dash
Might only last a little while.
So, when your eulogy is being read
With your life’s actions to rehash
Would you be proud of the things they say
About how you spent your dash?
TJ lived his dash more fully than anyone I have ever known.
T.J. came to join our family in the summer of 1984. He was six, going on seven years of age. He had spent much of his life at that point living in foster homes. My parents first saw TJ on an episode of Wednesday’s Child, a local news feature on television spotlighting children who were available for adoption. I remember how bright-eyed and cheerful he was on this program, sledding down the hill with the news lady. He also showed his love for singing, and even then he would sing at the top of his lungs (and badly out of tune, but as always, he didn’t care). I believe it was his cheeriness and joy for life that first caught my parent’s attention. Mom and Dad knew that this little boy needed to be in our family. That brought the number of kids at the Andrews’ home up to 5; Tara, myself, Kevin, Stephanie, and now TJ. We children did not know anything about muscular dystrophy, and were told that TJ would walk a little funny, not be able to do everything that we could do, and eventually that he would be put in a wheelchair for the rest of his life. We were also told that he would likely pass away long before any of us, but that was not important. What was important was to love him and help him live up to his potential.
TJ did have many challenges growing up. While one would assume that those challenges would largely be physical, many of them were behavioural. My parents struggled in raising him, as he had tendencies to be very stubborn. Mostly they, especially Mom, pushed him to do as much as he could. TJ had his fair share of chores to do around the farm. While Kevin and I did most of the physically harder work, Mom and Dad always found things for TJ to do. Whenever he stumbled and fell, Mom would make sure that TJ would get himself up on his own. Many people wondered about that until they came to understand why my mother did that. My mother would tell them: “If I don't keep on him, he will sit and that is not good for him. I want him to be as mobile as he can so he will be stronger." At Mom’s funeral, TJ acknowledged that he would not have been as active as he was if it hadn’t been for Mother keeping him going and never letting him give up. Mom pushed him to keep his strength as long as he could, and TJ was grateful for that tough love she showed him.
It has been hard for me to decide what I should speak on about TJ. I thought of having a special theme for him, going over what he liked and disliked in life, talking about his past and his dreams, thinking of what made my brother the man that he was. How does one sum up a life that has been such an amazing one? Well, let me start with one of the things that annoyed me the most about him. When TJ started going to the Young Single Adult wards, TJ kept breaking the long-standing, unwritten rule that younger siblings would be known as the brother/sister of so-and-so. I think that lasted all of about 5 minutes with TJ. Whenever I would meet someone, it would always be them asking me “Who are you?”, me responding “Bryan Andrews”, them looking a little confused until someone whispered in their ear, and then that person’s eyes would get wide as they exclaimed “You’re TJ’s brother! I love that guy!” I would then have to endure anywhere from 5 to 30 minutes of this person telling me how much they liked TJ, what he was up to, yadda yadda yadda, and then they would leave, forgetting my name, and just remembering me as “TJ’s brother”. Thanks TJ. I worked hard for three years after my mission to develop a reputation in the YSA wards and in less than an evening I became simply known as “TJ’s brother”. Little did I know how special that title of honour was to become in my life. Yes, I do not think that TJ knew that he was not supposed to do that. That was not the only thing he did in which he did not know that he was supposed to do it, and it did not stop there.
The rest of the family and I tried to be optimistic as TJ started dating, but always feared that he would end up alone. Still, that did not stop him from asking out every young lady that ever walked into the Whyte Ave chapel that he could. And again, much to my annoyance, they never turned him down! There were girls that I could only dream about going on a date with, and here I find TJ out in the middle of the dance floor with her and every other girl he could chase down in his wheel chair every single dance. Watching him dance was something else. He reminded me of a little wind-up toy that never seemed to wind down. He’d be out there, head bopping up and down, often singing out loud to the music, and twisting his chair back and forth while his partner tried to make sure her toes didn’t get run over. TJ did not know that he wasn’t supposed to dance, but he did it anyways.
There was never an outdoor activity that he did not want to be a part of. So many times he would tell me about the camping trip or horseback riding trip or laser tag game, or anything else he and his friends did that weekend. One of our YSA bishops, Bishop Dorward, shared one of his memories of TJ concerning a canoeing trip. In Bishop Dorward’s words: “We had a young YSA activity several years ago, canoeing down the N Sask. TJ wanted to go. We helped him into the canoe and he was off! When the canoe arrived at Quesnel Bridge I carried him into a truck. He said he was a bit cold, that was an understatement! I started the truck and turned the heat on full bore. Going back to help others, I forgot TJ. About 15 min went by. We had a fire going and hot dogs, hot chocolate. I went back to the truck to see if TJ wanted food. He was still frozen. Never warmed up a stitch. Full bore heat on him. I was worried. Of course eventually we got him warmed up. No complaint. No grump. Just humour and smiles, and casual jokes and appreciation for the day.” I myself remember that day, and how worried so many of us were for him, but he just sat there, grinning from ear to ear, teeth chattering away. TJ did not know he wasn’t supposed to be physically active and having fun in the outdoors, but he did it anyways.
So many people have commented on his sense of humour. One of TJ’s favourite places to visit was a house full of girls in his ward called the Chicken Coop. One of the residents of that house recalled a time when TJ fell out of his chair and all the way down the stairs. While the girls at the house started to panic, TJ just lay there cracking jokes. You know, I can’t help but think that he just loved the idea of so many lovely young ladies making such a fuss over him. Other fond memories of him came from his love and ability to ham it up in front of an audience. Whether he was the disembodied head in our air band number of “Johnny Came Home Headless”, or the evil Dr. Claw-like villain cackling away in “James Blond”, or the pig-headed Lemuel who was supposed to be helping his brother Nephi build a boat, TJ was always in top form. (I loved the line he came up with for that Book of Mormon skit: “My name’s Nephi, blah, blah, blah! Do this do that, blah blah blah!” Apparently there were several people that got that response from TJ on a regular basis). His attitude came from his love of life, and his humour reflected that. He was never one to turn down a good laugh at himself, and he always took the high road with having fun with others. TJ did not know that he was not supposed to have a positive outlook on life, but he had one anyways.
I mentioned before his dating life. I was always amazed as to how many girls had gone out on a date with that guy. He was kind of like a Hot Wheels Casanova. And despite his obvious limitations, he never once to my knowledge ever treated a date of his with anything less than class and respect. He would spare no expense when he could, and always put his date’s enjoyment first. He loved doing creative things, but also had fun with the basics. He was such a sweet-talker as well. How could any girl resist him! I asked him one time why he went to such great lengths for his dates, and all he would tell me was “I just want them to know that I appreciate the time they spend with me and that I have a lot to offer.” Once again, TJ did not care about his limitations, but instead focussed on the good in him. That is a quality that all of us should try to emulate: seeing the good in ourselves. And yes, he had many, many friends. Shelly would tell me that she could not go anywhere in this country without running into someone at church who had either been his roommate or his date at one time. TJ did not know that he was not supposed to touch people’s lives by simply being fun and positive, but he did it anyways.
I think I have touched on my theme here. So many things that TJ was not supposed to have done, and he did it anyways. TJ was not supposed to ride a bike, but he did it anyways as a child. He was not supposed to live past the age of 18. He would have been 31 next month. When he was told that he would not be able to serve as a full time missionary for the church, he was called as a stake missionary and became one of the most active and hardest working stake missionaries there ever was. Bishops knew that they could give TJ any calling and he would magnify it to the best of his abilities. Friends knew that they could count on TJ for anything that they needed. His family always knew that they could count on TJ for anything, especially if it was a hug or a listening ear. TJ did not know that he was not expected to love all he encountered with his whole heart, but he did it anyways.
Of course, I cannot give a eulogy befitting my brother without spending some time talking about the greatest miracle in his life, and that would be his eternal family. When I first met Shelly, it was at my father’s house in Gibbons, and I thought that Shelly was a nice enough girl to date TJ fairly seriously for a time, but I thought that she would eventually, like all the other girls that TJ chased after, would not want to spend the best years of her life loving someone that was likely to leave her a young widow. How sorely I misjudged this amazingly strong yet gentle woman. Shelly and TJ became inseparable and their love for each other only deepened as time went on. Shelly was the one blessing that the rest of us always hoped for but never expected in TJ’s life. I have never known a more devoted wife and can only hope to marry someone who loves me half as much as Shelly loves TJ. I never thought that I would see the day when TJ would have children of his own, and yet I look down at dear Thomas, darling Maggie, and precious Harrison, and I imagine meeting little Hiram Joseph in the next several weeks, and my heart is full at the thought of my brother’s legacy. I see so much of my brother in his children. I’m not just talking about his ears, either. I see in each of them attributes that my brother had; Thomas has his father’s excitement for life, Maggie has his strong-willed spirit, and Harrison has his bold determination. While we may think that it is unfair for these darling children to lose their beloved father at such young ages, I remind you that TJ was never supposed to have a family of his own, but he had one and loved them anyways. I feel that his only regret in leaving us all at this time is that he had to break his promise to Shelly that he would live to be 50.
TJ never gave up, not once. Oh, he failed many times, but he never allowed a single failure to keep him down. There was another air band competition where he and his partner were supposed to do a song from the Lion King, but they had forgotten to rewind their tape back to the beginning after they had practiced. When the wrong song started to play, TJ just chuckled for a few seconds, then went on and performed the wrong song perfectly. He went through hard times in his life, especially when mother died, but he always managed to bring himself out of the darkness and into the Lord’s light. TJ learned to rely on Heavenly Father so often that his love for the gospel just grew and grew. I remember taking him to the temple for the first time and how excited he was. I remember how he would talk about the how grateful he was for the Plan of Salvation and what it would mean for him to be able to walk and run and jump and do back flips that he just couldn’t do in this life. How grateful he was to be sealed to his wife and children so that their family would be together forever. How grateful he was that because of his Saviour he could repent and be forgiven of his sins. He loved the Lord with all his heart, and devoted his life to serving the Lord. Most often this came about in the way that he would act with others. He was able to forgive others so quickly. Again, I asked him about this, especially when it came to those who treated him so badly. He always gave an answer explaining that all he wants from people is for them to give him a chance, so why not give others a second chance. He was always looking for ways to make someone else’s life better. One of my most cherished memories came from TJ when one summer, my favourite country group Alabama was playing a concert in Edmonton on my birthday. One of TJ’s roommates had won tickets on the radio, but couldn’t go. TJ bought the tickets from his roommate and took me to the concert. I will always remember him sitting beside me, whooping and yelling and singing at the top of his lungs. That has always been the best concert I had ever gone to, and it was made possible by TJ.
So now what? Now that TJ is gone, what do we that are left behind do? If I know my brother, he would tell us to not feel sad at his passing, for he lived his life more fully than many of us do. He achieved more than anyone ever believed he would, and beat the odds many, many times. He is happy where he is now, for he is finally able to run, jump, and play hockey. He never once complained about the life that he had been forced to live, and he lived it better than anyone I have ever known. He has been reunited with Mother, and I’m sure she welcomed him with a big hug, followed by her saying “So where are my roses?”
I think of the Book of Mormon hero Teancum when I think of TJ. Teancum was a great warrior who had a habit of meeting the enemy head on. He would often undertake risky missions to take out the leader of the enemy forces, hoping to spare any more bloodshed than was necessary. The last time he had done this he was caught and killed. We read in Alma 62: 37 when his friends Lehi and Moroni learned of his death, and they mourned for their loss, saying “for behold, he had been a man who had fought valiantly for his country, yea, a true friend to liberty; and he had suffered very many exceedingly sore afflictions...” We then read in the next verses that the very next day they went out and won the war. I think that this is what TJ would have us do. He would have us go out and keep fighting the good fight, spreading the joy of the gospel to all we encounter. TJ never once hid behind his muscular dystrophy. He faced it head on. If only all of us could share in his bravery with our own trials.
Whenever someone close to me passes away, I search for a scripture in the Book of Mormon that reminds me of them. For TJ, I found this passage in Alma 36: 27-28. It is spoken by the prophet Alma the younger as he speaks to his son Helaman, and it reads: “and I have been supported under trials and troubles of every kind, yea, and in all manner of afflictions; yea God has delivered me from prison and from bonds and from death; yea, and I do put my trust in him, and he will still deliver me. And I know that he will raise me up at the last day, to dwell with him in glory; yea, and I will praise him forever,” When I read these words now, I hear TJ’s voice loud and clear in my mind, saying these things. I would also like to read some things from TJ’s Facebook page. One of his favourite quotes is “I AM NOT AFRAID OF TOMORROW BECAUSE I HAVE SEEN YESTERDAY AND I LOVE TODAY”. When asked to describe himself, he writes “I have a wonderful life. My wife is the greatest and I love her so much. I also have the three best kids in the world. My family is my life.”
I know TJ would love it if I could quote Garth Brooks, and so I will. Garth Brooks wrote a song called The Change that was one of TJ’s favourites, and the chorus explains why TJ never gave up, even though he knew that nobody expected him to accomplish what he did. “And I hear them saying you’ll never change things and no matter what you do it’s still the same thing. But it’s not the world that I am changing. I do this so this world will know that it will not change me.”
There are three special groups of people who meant so much to TJ, and also to me. First off, there are all of TJ’s friends, especially the boys in the Big House. They took TJ on so many adventures, helped him out in countless ways, and gave him so many memories that enriched his life. Second, these are four very special members of my family that came later in our lives but have become so precious to us. TJ led our family by example in welcoming a new mother, two brothers, and a sister into the insanity known as the Andrews family. To Brent, Renee, Matthew, and especially Violet, I am grateful to call you family. You meant so much to my brother and he loved you all so deeply. Our family is much richer with you in it. Finally, to the amazing Richardson family, I thank you for accepting TJ as a son, brother, and friend. Not only that, I thank you for raising such a wonderful daughter in Shelly, who was TJ’s best friend and the love of his life. I am grateful for the sealing ordinances of the temple that have brought our families together. I am grateful to you for helping support TJ, Shelly, and their children.
In conclusion, I would like to thank so all of you for coming, for those who would have come had they been able to. I thank you for loving my brother and sharing in the great miracle that was his life. My brother was blessed to be able to live a life full of love and joy that many of us take for granted, but he never did. Shelly, Thomas, Maggie, Harrison, and little Hiram, our thoughts and prayers are with you most of all, for we know how much TJ has meant to you. Please know that TJ is well, walking tall, and watching out for you in a way that he was never able to do in this life. You brought so much joy into his life, that words cannot describe the gratitude we all feel for you. TJ, we miss you and we love you. We will carry on for as long as our loving Father in Heaven needs us on this Earth, and then we will be happy to see your cheerful, smiling face again. I have a funny feeling that when I next see you that you are going to challenge me to a foot race to get back at me for all the ones I challenged you to when we were kids to see who got to clean the bedroom that evening. Knowing you you’ll probably smoke me good in it too. TJ, you have been more than a little brother to me. You have been my friend, my hero, my inspiration, and one of the finest men that have ever walked this earth. I only hope that I can be half of the man, husband, and father that you were in life. I close this in the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.
