In Memory of Tia

Tia liked pretzels, cookies, and colorful socks.  She liked to be the center of attention.  She liked to dance and she loved to laugh.  She loved my family with a fierce loyalty and she liked to make new friends.

Tia was a fiery and funny 27-year-old with severe mental retardation.  She died earlier this month.

My stepmum's mum, Charlene ("Grammy Char"), had a passion for taking care of foster children.  My stepmum, Deana, smiles as she tells stories of helping to raise dozens of kids not even related to her.  She mentions that she never had her own bedroom.  Not once in her life!   Not as a child, not in college, not after being married.  Of course, she adds, she never really minded.  That's Deana for you!  She must have gained a great deal of patience and integrity from helping her mother and sisters all those years.

And, speaking of patience, that is precisely what helping Tia required.  Char took Tia in when she was about 14.  Tia was quite a big girl - nearly 200 pounds - and, like a young Rottweiler or a German Shepherd, she had absolutely no idea how strong she was.  She was loyal, loving - and unpredictable.  Somewhere along the line, Tia learned that certain words made people pay attention to you when you said them.  These words are commonly called "expletives".  Since Tia liked attention, she became a frequent employer of these words - particularly at inappropriate times.  

Like, in a candlelit service right before the choir sang "Silent Night" on Christmas Eve.

It was hard for me to get to know Tia because I never spent a lot of time with her.  Charlene wasn't always able to bring her to family dinners or gatherings because sometimes she was just too agitated or confused.  When she did come, she often fussed until she was fed, and then she simply wanted more food and attention.  My sister Julia and my cousin Zane, in particular, had a way with her.  She positively adored them.  Zane liked to get her riled up, while Julia had a gift to help calm her down.  Either way, you could clearly see love shining out of Tia's often blank eyes when those two were around.  

It was easy to buy gifts for Tia.  She didn't care for clothes, having an almost endless standard of sweatpants and embroidered sweatshirts, but that girl loved fancy socks.  Striped socks, glittery socks, Disney Princess socks, G.I. Joe socks.  Didn't matter.  She loved socks, and that is what she got, birthday after birthday, Christmas after Christmas.  Best part was, she never sulked, "I got this last year!"  She simply held them up like a glorious trophy and made that delighted crowing cry that always made us laugh.

Tia stopped coming to family events altogether some time ago.  Char had begun to worry; several months prior to her death, Tia had begun to become unreasonable, almost violent, sometimes accidentally putting herself in danger.  It was a hard choice for her, but Char had Tia put under the care of a local mental institution.  

Five weeks later, she was dead.

The autopsy revealed that the cause of death was heart failure, brought about by pneumonia (her lungs were not getting enough oxygen to the rest of her body), and the pneumonia had been brought on by some type of serious injury to her chest.  

The hospital never informed Char that Tia was sick.  When Char and her daughter Nikki went to visit Tia, they were shocked to see multiple bruises on her face.  The staff told Char that Tia fell and hurt herself. 

Tia's death is currently still under investigation.  

I unfortunately heard of Tia's passing via a text message from my father.  I was sad, but I didn't realize until the funeral how truly loved that she was.  Former aides, teachers, and friends - both with and without mental challenges - came to pay their respects.  Members of my church who love our family came to support us during a difficult time.   The funeral home was far from empty.  During the short service, Zane - suddenly shedding the skin and smirk of a mischievous little boy - stood bravely and, between tears, announced how much Tia had meant to him.  After all, he spent a great many hours playing and visiting with her when he was young.  He'd practically grown up with her.

And now he had to say good-bye.

Before friends had shown up, Char spent several minutes carefully arranging a bow in Tia's tight curly hair, and slipping a bracelet onto her rigid hands.  It was strange to see Tia - and Char - so eerily quiet.  Then I realized in my head what my heart already knew.  Tia was now dancing with Jesus - whole, for the first time ever!  She was not struggling with the constraints of her clumsy physical body, nor were there strict limitations on her understanding and her mind.  She was free, completely clear-minded!  What joy she must have had when she looked into her Lord's eyes for the first time!  She may never have fully understood her need for a Savior, but she loved coming to church, singing for the Lord, and lunching with the beautiful elder ladies after their small group.  I believe she did accept Jesus into her heart.

As I reflected on Tia's life and legacy, I became strangely envious.  Unlike "normal" people, Tia never struggled through life with grudges or vengeance in her heart.  She was devoid of the capacity for worry.  Her joys were simple, and the things that upset her were forgotten in an instant.  She was, in many ways, and example to the Christian community on how to approach life.

And we think that, in being born with mental retardation, she was robbed of a "quality life"?

No, Tia may not have ever played with a PlayStation or an iPod.  She never picked out her own couture clothes or ate at trendy restaurants.  But Tia was happy.  She had friends who loved her, teachers who cared for her, and she was given every ounce of compassion that they had to share.  The simple, innocent delight in her laugh was enough to make you fall a little bit in love with her.

Good-bye for now, Tia.  Save a dance for me.