Tyra

"Well hellooooooo dere!"

When Tyra was maybe four years old and we were living in Lexington, Kentucky, we took a road trip. We took numerous road trips during that time period and especially that summer, but the trip I'm thinking of right now took place in late-July, 2003. My good friends Tomas and Ro, along with Tyra and I, took a long weekend and drove in my 1989 Honda Accord hatchback known as "Big H" (his name was Horace) down to a protest in New Orleans, Louisiana.
       
Holy crap it was sultry. NOLA in July - my only experience with New Orleans thus far, and the only one I'll ever have Pre-Katrina, which changed the city drastically, we've all been told.

Of course Tyra was with me. The main event of the protest was a march against a Central American Free Trade Agreement. Check it out - I just found this news blurb in the archives of Indymedia.

http://neworleans.indymedia.org/archives/archive_by_id.php?id=15&category_id=3

The photo on this page - this photo:

Post-trip-and-fall-onto-Canal-Street-with-hundreds-of-people-watching

This photo was from that march. That's my best friend Ro on the left of the giant white banner. That's me on the right, nearest the curb. Check it out - we appear to match. For the first half of the march, I had Tyra with me, attached by her leash looped around my waist. If I remember correctly, my friend Tomas left his post at the center stick of the banner to walk Tyra off to the side a bit. This photo was taken after we turned onto Canal Street, which has massive metal grates/plates across it - a material that sweet Tyra had NO intentions of walking across. When the march crossed the first one, Ty went to scoot around my legs and away from the metal under her feet, and she ended up tripping me with the leash. I totally bit it and scraped my knee and elbows up. She was not hurt, but perhaps a bit nervous of the crowds and general hullabaloo. As it seemed to be bordering on too much for her, Tomas offered to take her and walk her separately, since the banner didn't really need three people to hold it anyway.


*sigh*

Oh Tyra. I'm sorry you ever felt even remotely nervous, though you did invariably steal the show and the hearts of all the hundreds, if not thousands, of people we met together.

I miss you, baby one. My little babushka. I expect to see you when I enter a room. I hold my breath when I wake up in the middle of the night, straining to hear your deep breathing that means you're asleep near me. That sound was the most comforting and sleep-inducing sound imaginable. A single minute spent laying near you and listening to you sleep and I was already falling, if not completely asleep with you. It was as if my soul knew it was safe to relax because you had. Let's face it, kiddo - you were the best parts of me. We were never separate. We still aren't.

But dammit I miss your face. I miss how soft the hairs on your head were, especially that spot between your eye and your ear, where I could kiss you and perfectly smoosh the rest of my face into yours and inhale your comfort. I miss the way you smiled at me, both with your eyes and with your grin. I miss how we could go anywhere - ANYWHERE - and no matter how many admirers were loving on you and giving you people food - the second we made eye contact or you overheard me say your name, even in talking ABOUT you to someone else -- you left your shining spotlight and trotted over to me, happy and eager to share your excitement and Love with me. You lived for me and made certain I knew it. You lived to make sure I was ok. You gave your entire self to me with no expectations and no reservations.

And you were FUN. Dammit, doggy. We had so much fun. SO much fun. Remember when you were still quite young and could easily run circles around me? The hours upon hours we spent in the car - me, rocking the fuck out to whatever music I was currently enthralled with, singing at the top of my lungs, talking out loud to you - you, sitting in the co-pilot's seat, leaning up against the door with your face in the wind, that blissful smile on your face, eyes slit nearly closed, nose craning upward to catch the finer points of the scented wind. And then you'd open your grin and the wind would flap through your doggy lips and your long pink tongue (with the black spot in the middle) would flop out and across your cheek. :) Generally by then, I was grinning right along with you, unable to sing through my giddiness, likely telling you how effing cute you are. You'd always respond to my voice by turning your face into the car, your entire being just beaming at me with Love.

You gave the best Love, Tyra.

And the most enduring. I am ok without you physically in my world right now only because you built me up and taught me how to be OK.

My family says Tyra was an angel. From God. Sent to me to protect me and help me and Love me through the worst times of my life. They sincerely believe - at least a few of them that I'm aware of - that I would not have lived through my mental breakdown without her.

I know this is true. I would not have survived. Tyra has been the singular reason for not committing sincere suicide at least three or four times. I just couldn't leave her alone. She did nothing but Love, and I was her world. How could I take that from her? I couldn't.

*BIIIIG sigh*



Oh Tyra. I did it again. I went off onto another tangent, losing the intended story entirely. We didn't even mention the ORIGINAL story I wanted to tell - the one about when we went to the Gulf of Mexico, that weekend we were in New Orleans. :) Oh well.

There's time for more stories. This'll work for a blog post, don'tcha think? See - I just don't work right without you. My pitiful ability to pay attention is even worse without you next to me. *more sighs*

I Love You, Tyra Ann Quick. I always have and I always will. Talk to you soon, baby.

<3,
~Q~