I Miss You…Tyrell
by Sharon Nyree Williams
December 15, 2015
Over the past year I’ve been trying to write something dedicated to Tyrell, but I could never finish them. I started this piece a while ago and on Thursday while I was on the train to Portland I picked it up again. I put some finishing touches on it today, but I’m so emotional I don’t know how it will read. I hope you understand.
I went by to see you today. On days like this, I wake up and say, “I gotta go and see my boy”. You’ve been gone for almost a year, but it seems like you just left me yesterday. It was one of those beautiful days we learn to appreciate in the Northwest. The sun was shinning and it wasn’t to hot. I sat in the grass and told you what I’d been thinking about. At one point I just shut up, laid on my back and looked up at the sky.
I don’t know if you were looking down at me so I wondered if you knew I was there, but since I can no longer pick up the phone and hear your voice. I come here because this is where I feel as though I connect with you the most. I have your picture on my bookcase by my bed. I listen to your poem the Plight of a Woman when I need to hear your voice. I talk to you all the time; in the car, in the shower, while I’m watching TV, before and after I do a show, when I just need someone to talk to, etc. When things happen in my life no matter if they are good or bad. I still want to share the moment with you. I say, “What will Tyrell say?”
I miss you. Some days I miss you and I laugh. Days like today I miss you and I cry. I try to tell myself you’re in a better place. Hell that doesn’t work it doesn’t make me feel any better. But anyway…
My mom came to visit a few months ago, and it really hurt that she couldn’t meet you. I know she would have loved you. We probably would have met at the pizza spot in the Renton Landing. You would have been very polite but fishing to get some dirt on what I was like as a kid growing up. The shy you, would have kept your head down, but once we got into the conversation you would have relaxed and forgotten that you’ve just met her for the first time. We would have laughed and you would have never let me forget whatever embarrassing thing she shared about me. And from that moment on, every time my mom would call me, she would say, “How’s Tyrell? Tell him I asked about him”.
Remember the last time I saw you. I was standing on the stage at Langston Hughes Performing Arts Institute, and you walked up to me with your puffy coat and jeans on, you had your hands in your pocket. And when I turned around and saw you. We smiled at each other and I ran and gave you a big hug. Then I looked down, “Ohhhh shoot, nooo…you didn’t, awwww…man those are hot!”. I saw the red timberlands you were wearing. You know how I love me some tims. You said, “Stop. Quit It. Come on Now”. Leading up to that moment we had several conversations about how you were ready to move forward with your artistry. We were both excited about us sharing the stage again. You told me you wanted to collaborate more and I said I would make sure it happened. Unfortunately, time wasn’t on our side and I never got a chance to say good-bye.
Tyrell, I just want you to know. I miss you my little brother from another mother. I was blessed the day you came into my life and you will forever live in my heart. I will never forget you…
December 17, 1983 – December 16, 2014