Tyler Hillis

You were my brother, my cousin, my family.

Having to say ‘were’ carries with it an immense pain. The past tense is a shadow lingering on every condolence sent and received over these past few days.

Because you are my brother, my cousin, my family.

Our last conversation remains in my phone, waiting for my reply.

Your photo triggers my petrified mind to think in the present – to the next time I’ll see you. At a family party, or holiday, or just around. I fear for when it transitions to the past and relies solely on memory.

It’s cruel that the brain is so good at blocking out pain. It forces me to wake up every day and battle for the truth to push through those protective barriers, hoping acceptance lies beyond. And fearing that it does.

Because acceptance confirms the unreal.

Despite this unbearable loss, the Hillis family remains a constant. There is no Hillis family without Jo, just as there is no Hillis family without JD. We are still here and so are both of you.

The past tense might get easier to use, but Jo, you will always be my brother, my cousin, my family. In the present.

1985-2023. Rest in peace.