A Star is Born

In Marie's family, they were told that when people die and go to heaven, you can look up in the night sky and they'll be among the stars. 

Open your eyes, Denise

A new star was added to the heavens this past week when my sister Denise's husband, Tim, passed away.

Tim was diagnosed with stage 4 pancreatic cancer in May and was gone in four months. Tim was stoic and not the mushy, touch-feely kinda guy. He hated public displays of affection. He kept his feelings under lock and key, often hidden behind a wicked dry sense of humor that enabled him to prank newcomers without suspecting he was the one behind the shenanigans.

But those who'd been around him long enough knew how deep he went. 

Tim Trusken came into my life when he started dating my sister. I was in high school, and Denise and I were very close. It was pretty clear from the start that Tim was "the one," and on my birthday in 1976, they got married. I was in the wedding party. "Party" was the right word, because their shindig was a blast. Polka, polka, polka! 

Four years later, I embarked on marriage #1 and my Then-Mr. and I moved into a house that was two blocks over from Tim and Denise. This gave me plenty of opportunities to spend time with my sister. Tim was a shoe salesman at Value City, working his way up the ranks to upper management. Meanwhile, Melissa and Christine were born (Kimberly came along a few years later), then the family moved to Columbus. It was hard to see them go, but it was a good move for the Truskens.

Columbus would be Tim's home from that day forward. Like all lives, theirs were filled with challenges and triumphs, but they got through them together. Tim's last gig was making car seats, but he never complained that his job was too menial for his smarts. Instead, he mentored his younger coworkers, letting them work on their cars in his driveway and use his tools. Did I mention Tim also had a classic car that he worked on his spare time? Quiet relaxation was not his default setting.

Eventually, two granddaughters arrived on the scene, and Tim took to his new Grandpa role in no time.  They took to him, too. Fortunately, Christine made sure there are plenty of photos of him with the girls to remind them how crazy he was about them.

Tim was one of those guys who's just always there in the background, but he saw and he knew. When I got laid off, he wanted to know how he could put his handyman skills to work to help us out.

Tim was Mr. Fix-It. So when our dining room ceiling started to come down, I took him up on his offer to help. He worked with our son to patch up the ceiling. Every time I walk through my dining room and look up, I think of Tim. And Joe got an invaluable lesson on how to drywall. 

Last Christmas during our family get-together, we talked about AI, which has been a hot topic for many reasons. He was fascinated with new technology, and he, I and my brother Gary had a robust discussion. Then we shifted to other tech, and I told him I was thinking about getting a streaming stick for my TV, and asked which kind he recommend. Tim went into the other room and came back with a Fire Stick. No charge. That was Tim. If he could do something for you, he didn't think twice. He just did it.

Yesterday was the funeral. It was a tough day, but there were so many warm memories shared, so many laughs over Tim stories. On the way out of town, I remarked that Menards stock was likely going to take a big hit now that one of their best customers was gone.

Now I worry not about Tim but about my sister and nieces, who have to try and navigate this strange new Tim-less world. He was one of the good ones, and it just sucks so much.

One of my favorite memories is from the early days, when Tim suggested to Denise that they take me to the original Star Wars movie. It was the talk of the town, and although I wasn't big into Sci-Fi, I took him up on the offer. The movie was amazing, and we went for pizza afterwards. So cool.

A few days after the news came of Tim's passing, I walked out into the early morning and looked up at the sky. It was clouded over, but there was a single star, shining bright. I teared up and said, "I love you, man."

And somewhere, from deep inside my heart, I heard a voice say, "I know."