John Taylor Stephen Dempsey

October 12, 1981- January 23, 2012

So, have you noticed the lack of blogging?

It has been rough around here the last few weeks.  I kind of feel like we are in survival mode or something.  Most of you already know that we lost Taylor, my brother in law a couple of weeks ago.  On January 22nd or 23rd, sometime between when he went to bed and didn't wake up... we lost him.  Forever.

For that whole week following this horrific news, Cody and I both just kind of fogged our way through the week.  I guess you'd call that stage "denial" or something, it was impossible to feel.  Anyway, Cody flew out to Arizona to be with his Mom and sisters that Friday.  I couldn't go.  That was very hard.  But, in a way, I could grieve without worrying about my husband being there to feel worse, and I guess that is good.  Cody found the weekend to be difficult at times, and touching at others.  He had the experience of meeting a ton of Taylor's friends and lovers (he was quite the ladies man).  It was comforting to hear their stories about him and hear all the crazy stuff he did.  They went through his portfolio and could relish in the amazing artist he was, a gifted genius.  His art wasn't pretty.  It was harsh, and at times difficult to look at.  But, it made you feel something.  And, he was extremely private with it--very rarely displaying it for anyone to see.  Some of his closest friends didn't even know he painted.

I felt a maternal love towards Taylor, part protective...part pride... part frustration.  He had that way about him, it made you want to take care of him.  Although, there wasn't a thing about his personality that wanted to be dependant on anyone.  He was a survivor, of what exactly I couldn't tell you.  His blunt honesty could drive me crazy, and his habit of running a bath in the middle of my shower.  But, last night as I was cleaning up lots and lots of Sammy's vomit off the floors, carpets, walls and bed linens... I missed him.  I really, really missed him.  The last time Sam was sick, Taylor was here and he helped clean up the mess-- because "Ah, puke doesn't bother me a bit."  Meanwhile, I am drive heaving.  He was a good kid. He made mistakes and couldn't fix his biggest problems, but he was honest about that.  To his soul.  Everyone that was a friend of his told Cody that.  Sadly, in part, we did too.

My husband hurts right now.  And, that is just awful to watch.  Now I can empathize with just how helpless he felt when I lost my Dad 18 months ago.

There are little bits of Taylor throughout our house.  Paintings he gifted to us, a stuffed lion he made for Sammy's 2nd birthday, yellow swim trunks that he forgot last time he visited, and at times I spot little touches of his looks in Sam.

I can't not thank all of my family and friends that we so kind to donate to his memorial fund.  Taylor was off visiting friends in Los Angelos when he passed away, very far from his home and mother in Phoenix. During these harsh economic times, Taylor's mother and her husband's business depend on tourism and being that Taylor was a starving, vagabond artist he did not have any life insurance.  The memorial fund has helped Rohanda travel to LA to see her son one last time and bring his remains home where he will be put to rest next to his grandmother in Phoenix.

I count myself very lucky to be surrounded by so many people who love Cody, myself and our family. Thank you again and again.