November 15, 2022 at 2:47 p.m.
Missing Tim Holley and Others but Building the Bridge
Not long ago, I reconnected with a former fifth grader while he was behind the counter of the Hope DG Market. I would not have recognized him if he had of not said, “Mr. Webster.” He continued and said, “I'm Tim Holley.”
Then, I saw the face of a ten-year-old student and boy who was now a forty- two-year old-man. We talked for only a short period because I was one of several customers. I found out that Tim still enjoyed reading books and told him to expect a book that I had converted to a play, “The Well House.” Soon, I presented the book and DVD of the play. Tim smiled and said, “It will make a great addition to my library.”
There were times I would be in search of something in the store and would ask Tim for assistance. If not with another customer, he would quickly take me to the product, which is always appreciated because I often will not see it even when in front of my eyes. (My wife knows!) Tim seemed to be a perfect and great addition to an outstanding team even though Tim, being Tim, likely did not recognize his importance.
When returning to the store and checking out, I was rather emotional when seeing Tim's picture with his date of birth, March 7, 1980, and date of death, November 2, 2022, in the same area he had spent hours serving others. The young man behind the counter had been quite helpful and was obviously working through Tim's death, too.
Like many others, I felt a need to attend Tim's Celebration of Life at Jewell-Rittman Family Funeral Home. As I approached the casket, David Bierlein, Tim's brother, was gently touching his face. David and I reminisced a little since I also had him in fifth grade. I saw several other former students. Pastor Ed Boston tried to help all of us through the weight of Tim's death and stressed Tim's care and love for God, the community of Hope, his job, his family, his friends, and others.
Carin Chapman, Tim's cousin and friend, then shared some heart-felt words with some following:
“Tim and I were only one year apart, and we were immediate fast friends as kids.
“He had a dizzying intellect. I don't think a lot of people realize that about him because he didn't show off about it.
“I've never met anyone who smiled as much, who met people exactly where they were, no matter who they were or how different. Tim embraced the whole of people, respected them, made space for them to be themselves, whoever they might be. He was kind and conscientious, always aware of the feelings of the people around him and always trying to help them feel better. In that way and many others, he was a rare gift. He was reliable and steadfast with a romanticized belief in firm and older convictions. You always knew what you were gonna get with him, and it was always beautiful. He was loyal to the ends of the universe and back.
“Envisioning reality reconstituted without my cousin in it has proved a feat I don't quite feel up to yet.
“But I don't begrudge him his choices. Tim suffered a multitude of traumas, large and small, as well as a confluence of external factors beyond his control, beyond mine, beyond that of everyone in this room. They led him to a point beyond that any of us can understand. So, I'm not mad at him, and I don't blame him. And whatever your belief system, however you make peace with situations like this, I say to you, to each your own regarding your beliefs and to me my own way, too. He did nothing wrong; this is not his fault; no power is judging or condemning him.
“I'll keep loving you. And your loss is and will be felt by the people who knew you and by the people whose lives would have been better if they had known you because you made all of our lives better.”
When at Indiana State University, I did a paper on “Bibliotherapy,” how books can help us through difficult moments in life. Consequently, we read “Taste of Blackberries” by Doris Buchanan Smith and “Bridge to Terabithia” by Katherine Paterson in fifth grade during health class. Toward the end of “Bridge to Terabithia,” the author has these insightful words with a few slight variations on my part:
“Now, there was the thought that perhaps there are places and periods in our lives where we come to be knighted. After staying for a while and growing, then it is time for us to move on. There are those special individuals who enter our lives to try to push back the wall of our minds to help us see beyond to the shining world-a world that tends to be a blend of huge, terrible, beautiful, and very fragile. They help us to understand the importance of handle with care every person and everything. And eventually we move on for one another and pay back to the world in beauty and in caring what they have loaned us in vision and in strength. As for that which lies ahead of us, even the bad, we must not allow it to squeeze the walls of our minds together. It is with open minds and open hearts that we continue to make a lasting difference to those closest to us and consequently the world.”
I am so glad that Tim and I reconnected. But like Carin, I have wondered if I could have been of more help to Tim. There are others wondering, too. Mark Cornett, another former student, is one of those individuals. When ordering lunch from Cornett's Corner Cafe, Mark asked how I was doing. I mentioned Tim's death, not knowing that Mark and Tim became close friends when very young, making all kinds of interesting and unique items together. When calling Shelley Young, also a former student, about how well her latest “HSJ Online” article was being received, she asked if I knew about Tim. Shelley was struggling and spent several minutes explaining how Tim was so sensitive and uplifting while listening to her about losing a son, David Shuff, one of Tim's best friends. As shared with Carin, Mark, and Shelley, I know Tim would want all of us to build our bridge and move on with care and love for ourselves and all. It is a positive way we can continue his legacy.
