I met Tim O-Brien because my husband Don died, and his wife Keri died.
We met at a wonderfully weird place called Camp Widow.
We became friends quite fast, and also over the years, because we would spend little nuggets of time together at various Camp Widow events. Those of us who have been to Camp Widow more than once know that it becomes like a reunion of incredible new friends – the ones who saw us through our impossible losses, had one of their own, and then stood beside us and witnessed as we attempted to live this new version of life we didn’t ask for.
These friendships are special. They are bonding and deep and filled with dark humor. Tim’s sense of humor was dark, but in a surprising way. It would catch me off guard over and over because his delivery was so quiet, and he was such a sweetheart – often times it took me asking him to repeat what he said before I realized he was making a hilarious joke about death. One time, after at least two of his jokes went right over my head, he looked me straight in the eyes and said: “Come on Kelley. You’re supposed to be the comedian here. Try and keep up!”
Tim had a fantastic laugh. I heard it many times when he would attend my comedic presentations at Camp Widow. Lots of times he would make requests of me before I started. “Are you going to tell the story about the guy in the elevator who moved his little girl away from you after reading the word WIDOW on your lanyard? I love that one. I love the part when you say: ‘ why are you protecting your child from me? I’m a widow, not a pedophile!” Then I’d say: “Tim, you just told the whole joke, I don’t really need to tell it now.” He would answer: “Yeah, but its funnier the way you say it.” So I would do the joke for him and Id look in the crowd and see his eyes lighting up, and that slow burn laugh of his. It would start out quiet and with a slight shake of the shoulders, then toward the end it would build and get a bit louder, almost ending in a literal “HA!!!” Tim’s laugh was a comedians dream audience member.
The best times, though, were in between the workshops and sessions at Camp. Hanging out by the pool, walking through the city of Toronto or down the marina in Tampa, grabbing lunch and having a spontaneous talk about world events, politics, (we shared many similar beliefs and values, so it was always an intelligent and positive discussion about how to make things better) trauma, sudden death, suicide, mental illness, (how his late wife died) heart attacks, (how my late husband died) and so many other things that widowed friends talk about with the ease of a conversation about the weather. It was important to Tim that people educate themselves about mental illness. It almost seemed that by him helping others to better understand it, he was also helping himself to better comprehend his late wife Keri’s death. Above all else, he had empathy and thoughtfulness for the struggle of others. Whenever I spoke to him about my loss, my feelings, or anything else significant; he would listen with the intensity and attention that things like that deserve. And although he was certainly capable of an everyday small talk type dialogue, most of my time spent with Tim left me feeling like I had maybe learned something, or left me feeling a bit better or more hopeful about things. Tim was the kind of guy that was just magnetic and lovely to be around. His presence left a nice feeling on your soul.
Since we both lived in Massachusetts, I also saw Tim outside of Camp Widow as we became better friends. After I wrote my book about my loss, he showed up to support me at a couple of my book-signing events. Even though he had already bought my book, he would come and hang out and buy another one and just be there to offer support and friendship. He also attended the Soaring Spirits Regional Group that I co-lead with Allison McGowan, where we meet up 2x per month for lunches , coffee, dinner. A social-support group for widowed people is how I like to refer to it. And even though he lived over an hour away on the other side of the state, he would come out and join us. Every time I saw Tim , it was a good thing. It was a happy thing. His huge smile left me with a warmth . He hugged you with his smile.
Part of what is so beautiful about befriending other widowed people is watching them slowly crawl out of their enormous pain and walk hesitantly into finding more joy. When I found love again, 6 years after my loss, Tim was so happy for me. When I brought my then boyfriend / now husband Nick to Camp Widow with me, Tim made him feel welcomed immediately in our community, and asked me many questions about finding love again after our losses. How does it work? Are you happy and sad all at once sometimes? Are you terrified that they will die too, and that you will have to go through the impossible all over again? Not long after, though – Tim would find his own path to new love and joy in Whitney; who had lost her first husband to death also and found herself at this weird place called Camp Widow. I remember talking to Tim about Whitney, soon after they began seeing one another. His eyes were lit up from the inside as he told me: “this is it. She is so amazing. I don’t really know how it’s all going to work, but I’m all in with her. ” He literally could not stop smiling as he spoke of this new invention called love.
It takes tremendous courage to choose to open your heart again after losing your spouse or partner. Widowed [people who decide to love again – we already know the risk. We know firsthand that one of us WILL die, and that it could happen way sooner than we would ever like it to. Most of us walk into these new relationships terrified, but we make the choice to live with the fear so that we can have the love. Whitney and Tim are both so courageous for choosing to build new life with each other.
When I found out about the sudden death of my dear friend Tim O’Brien last week, my soul hurt. When I found out that he died from a sudden heart attack, just like my husband Don, my brain couldn’t compute. When I thought about my sadness and my trauma-response to Tim’s very sudden and shocking death, my mind immediately shifted to Whitney, who had opened her heart to new love and married Tim just 2 years ago, and now would be widowed – twice. Everything inside me felt like getting in my car, driving to wherever the hell she happened to be at that moment, and just hug her for all eternity. Yesterday, I got that chance. Me and two widowed friends drove to the service and celebration of life for Tim, followed by the lunch reception afterwards. When we saw Whitney, the hugs flowed hard, the tears harder, and the dark humor even harder than that. We will stand beside her through the impossible, and we will help her to do the very next thing, and then the thing after that thing. We will keep helping with all of the things. I know Tim would like that, and it would make him smile.
As for Tim, to put it simply, he was my friend. I am so sad that I won’t have a chance to flourish and nurture that friendship further. I am quite upset that Nick and I can’t have Tim and Whitney over for dinner soon, as I promised Tim we would do since they were unable to attend our recent housewarming party after the purchase of our new home. I am greatly bothered by the idea that there will be no new memories, no more of his smile to look forward to, and that next time I go to Camp Widow, he will not be there to spend quality time with. To put it bluntly, this sucks.
And yet, I am not saddened that Tim O’Brien was and is my friend. I am not sad that I made that connection, or that I got to be witness to seeing him discover new love. I am forever thankful that I got to share a little bit of the road that Tim traveled, during his short and meaningful life. In my heart, I will carry his caring smile, his wisdom and wit, his surprising twisted humor, his empathy for others, his kindness, his ability to listen intently, and his curiosity for learning / talent for teaching.
In addition to carrying these things in my heart, I will also share them forward with the world. People only fully die when others stop sharing their story.
So please don’t take offense if the next time Tim’s tragic death is brought up in topic, if I choose to talk about his epic and courageous life, instead.
I will see you in the next universe, my beautiful friend.