Tyson John-Stone

Tyson Murphy John-Stone unexpectedly passed away on Saturday February 15, 2025. Born deceased on a foggy early Saturday morning in September 2013, receiving immediate resuscitation and intubation, he fought to stay alive from the start. He was the most beautiful thing we’d ever seen with big brown eyes that sparkled and as one neurologist put it, “perfect baby rose bud lips”. Tyson came as a bright light in a dark time. He hung out on life support for 8 days; doctors said he wouldn’t survive and had no brain activity due to the catastrophic brain injury (HIE) he suffered during birth. In true Tyson fashion, he showed them! As soon as the breathing tube was removed, he began breathing on his own. Tyson was brought home at 6 weeks old on hospice. Early on, there were lots of hospitalizations and no nursing care; he threw his parents into the deep end learning all things medical. He was later transferred off hospice and onto palliative care as Tyson was determined to keep living. His Mama, Tyson’s full-time caregiver, could/should have earned a nursing degree, perhaps even a medical degree. Specialists were constantly telling his family he would not live long, and his days would be filled with nothing exciting. That statement was only partially true as there were always exciting things no matter the environment. Christmas, Thanksgiving and New Years may have been celebrated in intensive care those first few years, but always had a mini tree, lights, presents and laughter in the room. Movies, books, soft blankets and Sesame Street were ever present. When medical teams thought Tyson was nearing death, they’d suggest reading a children’s story to him about it being OK die and giving permission to let go. Tyson gave no response. In contrast, he ALWAYS responded to a book about being ready in your own time. Even at an early age he made his wishes known; he’d do it his way in his time. He was never alone, always having a parent with him, much to the worry of hospital staff. It was often suggested Tyson be placed in a medical institution; that was unfathomable, even as younger siblings arrived. Caring for Tyson at home was the right thing for all of us. He was involved and included in everything. Accommodations needed to be made, but where the family went, so did Tyson. He was our “why” to how we lived our life, and it enriched us.

As medical regiments changed and Tyson grew older, his inpatient stays became less frequent. Memories grew less about hospitals and fearing death and more about family activities and school. Small milestones were celebrated as our world changed! Camp was by far his favorite place to spend time in the summer. Sitting outside, being in the water during the end of summer (when the water was warmest!), being next to the fire, riding on the pontoon boat. Tyson always did better at camp! His oxygen was higher, his heart rate lower; he was always happy there. He loved laying in the bounce house while his siblings jumped, or swinging together. This past summer he went on his first “Zoom Zoom” ride on a quad (yes, in his car seat). Everyone took a chance to drive, and Tyson smiled and looked all around, clearly enjoying the new, not-so-safe activity. We’d looked forward to doing it more this coming summer.

Tyson was the center of his family’s world. His Mama- Michelle John, and Dad-Robert Stone, reveled in the strength, power, and resilience mixed with vulnerability and dependence that was parenting Tyson. Tyson had complex medical needs and was total care; he was reliant on responsible adults for all aspects of his life to keep him healthy and alive. His disabilities were physical, developmental, and health, but he was so much more than his medical complexity/fragileness and all-encompassing disabilities.

He was an incredible big brother to sister, Trinity and brother, Layne. He taught them the true meaning of devoted love, and an unbreakable, protective sibling bond that included fun and intimate care. It was a proud milestone for each sibling when they were deemed responsible enough to suction, reposition, or help with treatments. They’d excitedly share with others they were “grown enough to help Murph”.

They loved to show him things, tell stories about their day and make him laugh. When Trinity learned to read, Tyson was so excited, someone new to hear stories and character voices from. He’d always turn towards his siblings, look at them lovingly, having long conversations smiling together. It was a joy to watch them assist Tyson open his presents and excitedly show him and explain each one. They were his eyes and hands in these moments, taking on an Intervener role which made hearts grow. They always made sure to be in his preferred vision field. Both loved to push Tyson in circles in his wheelchair, making all three laugh with abandon. Tyson absolutely hated the snow and cold, but only for his siblings would he willingly be dragged through the snow all bundled up and go sledding. Though doctor’s appointments throughout 3 states were commonplace, his siblings never complained, and they were happy when Tyson would get them something special to eat or take them to a store afterwards as a thank you. Those trips will be greatly missed.

Many worried having more children would create resentment as they aged, thinking the siblings would view Tyson as a hinderance. But, no. Their births added to Tyson’s life and he to them; they never viewed Tyson or his needs as burdensome, they wanted him with them no matter what they were doing. “Is Tyson coming too?” was on repeat. Over the last few years, Trinity and Layne frequently debated over who Tyson would live with when they were adults. When they tried to put Tyson in the middle he never responded, he wouldn’t choose. They eventually decided they’d buy homes next to each other or at least in the same neighborhood, to split time equally, then delved into what they’d need to do to make their future homes accessible. They wanted him to live with them as soon as they were adults; Trinity always said Tyson would move out on his own with his siblings, not live with a parent, and they’d all go to college and work together. Layne would earnestly nod in agreement, stating they could take better care of him, as Mama or Dad would be “too old and tired to do it the right way all the time. Tyson needs his brother and sister”. They planned to grow old with him and care for him always. His siblings truly knew him, his likes/dislikes, preferred items, and would help him communicate those needs. Their fierce love for him was boundless. They cheered him on enthusiastically and had great pride in his accomplishments. They didn’t see their brother as his disabilities, they saw him as a fully integrated person- their older brother, and revered him for that position. The lessons he unknowingly taught them will carry them throughout their life.

Tyson adored his Grammie, Barbara (Timson) John, who always made sure he his nails were cut and gave him the best deep massages. She was as particular as Tyson was about which lotion. Tyson would often trick her by waiting to have a BM until after Mama left, because he knew Grammie hated changing poopy diapers. He’d laugh when she would confront him with the question. She and Tyson enjoyed going for walks together (the bumpier, the funnier!), reading stories and singing, with her self-created “Tyson song” always in demand. She was Tyson’s favorite babysitter! Grammie was known for crying over Tyson in happiness and sadness, a long-standing joke as Tyson would always side-eye her to say, “Oh Grammie, here you go again”. But secretly, he loved how much she loved him.

He was also Douglas John’s “Grampie’s Boy”. On every visit he would ask how his boy was, and Tyson would tell stories and smile. He had a knack for getting the best birthday cards for Tyson, personal and the perfect fit. Grampie gave the best boat rides, always made sure Tyson’s cold legs were covered, he wasn’t in the sun, and not too close to the fire pit, but also not too far away so he’d be warm and included. Everyone laughed that if Grampie was there, he would be a supervisor for everyone around Tyson to ensure top notch care. He was a fierce protector for his boy. Tyson liked the gentleness of Grampie’s suctioning and adored his silly voices.

Tyson has a great-grandfather, Harry John and his Nana and Papa Bob, Maude Timson and Bob Tweedie, all three always asked about him. He enjoyed his annual party attendance at cousin Danielle John Carr’s (Damon Carr, their daughter Riley Carr), where he would see Great Uncle Mike John as well. He has many Great Aunts, Great Uncles and 2nd cousins from the Timson family who always sent their love and blessings. Tyson had a close bond with Indigo Stone, who, for a period of a year, lived like siblings. Tyson enjoyed it when Indigo pushed him around various stores (especially BJ’s) in his stroller, often at top speed, making us nervous he would fall over while rounding corners, but Indigo always promised she’d keep him safe, and she always did. Mason was also a special person in Tyson’s life. Mason loved Tyson’s unending attention, and Tyson was always happy to listen to Mason’s stories and share toys together

Tyson was an animal lover. When he was young, our huge old cat, Gina, would lay on his legs. They could cuddle for hours. Tyson missed her deeply when she died. Our dog Sadie was always licking Tyson’s hands to ensure they were clean! Tyson thought it was funny, but everyone else would say, stop, ew! Walking Sadie was always fun until the wheelchair and leash got tangled up! Tyson enjoyed watching our cats, Smokey and Ozzy move about the house. When he was supposed to be focused during school, his eyes would often wander or he’d turn his head when he heard or saw the cat or dog go through. His providers would laugh knowing what he was up to and call him out, yet Tyson would feign ignorance- “why whatever do you mean”?! Tyson created a bond with the family guinea pig, Nibbler. He loved holding Nibbies and cuddling together. Nibbler would try to run away from the rest of the family, but he always stayed close to Tyson. There were smiles whenever they were together.

Mama and Dad love (present tense) Tyson with a fierceness that could never be condensed into even the lengthiest obituary.

Mama’s world revolved around Tyson. They were together all the time. You didn’t often see one without the other. Tyson was more than a full-time job, and he was Mama’s only job, the most important one she’s ever had the privilege of. Though it was 100% unpaid in monetary, the dividends rewarded were immeasurable, absolutely life changing in the best of ways. Mama caring for Tyson included nursing, medication and symptom management, case management, insurance work, supplies and equipment, PT, OT, SLP, Intervener, teacher, special educator, interpreter, intervener, advocacy work, arguing with governmental agencies, and on and on and on. This list doesn’t begin to touch all that was being Tyson’s Mom. It was both the most exciting, wonderful job, and also the most stressful and difficult. Tyson was worth every moment of hard work and advocacy. Exhaustion was ever present, but Tyson grew by leaps and bounds, with Mama his ultimate cheerleader. Mama was Tyson’s eyes and hands, and sometimes his voice when he needed interpreting. But they were also best friends. They shared inside jokes, many nicknames, had their own routines, did school together, took many long day trips to the doctors alone, ran errands, and had their own language. They learned from and with each other. When Tyson was inpatient, Mama was too. Mama always knew Tyson best; they had a connection that surpassed words, it was connection of energy and innate understanding. She knew every finite detail of Tyson’s needs/wants and his body, and could sense changes. Her favorite moments of pride were being able to tell medical providers a polite version of “I told you so”, as she knew Tyson’s gifts and abilities and he exceeded their expectations. Mama would always find Tysons hand, or she’d be tousling his hair, a reminder of their constant connection. Tyson looked to Mama for comfort and safety, she was his person. Mama carried Tyson from in utero/birth to death, and that space in between is filled with unimaginable love (and some deep heartache); precious memories abound. It’s been an honor to be his person; so lucky to have been given the joy of taking care of him. Tyson gave her the biggest gift in choosing her.

Dad was Tyson’s butler, and it’s a position he cherished. He was the best at drawing up the day’s many medications, repositioning Tyson’s body in the most comfortable way, transferring him to different places (in and out of the home), and was key to holding up Tyson, both figuratively and literally as seen in the school picture accompanying this obituary. He gave Tyson the chance to have school pictures without his wheelchair, and Tyson would laugh as Dad groaned at the awkward positions he’d be in to stay out of the photo. Dad was key to installing car seats of all sizes, dragging clothes from storage during seasonal changes, moving things around to make more space for Tyson’s ever-growing needs and perhaps most important of all, fixing and adjusting medical equipment. Tyson especially enjoyed being Dad’s fix-it assistant; he loved holding Dad’s tools, waiting at the ready for the next step, and laughing when Dad noticed Tyson let go of the tool he was holding. He could count on Dad to bring all the medical equipment to camp, and forget to tell Mama when it was time for a med refill, much to the amusement of Tyson and chagrin to Mama. Tyson loved to try and hold his head up independently and show off his strength to Dad. When he learned a new skill, Dad was the one he wanted to show it to first. You could see the mutual pride in their eyes. Nighttime was often special Dad and Tyson time; they were sleepover buddies. From a young age, Dad’s routine of saying hello upon arrival meant Tyson would anticipate with excitement. He could hear the sounds he associated with Dad and would bring his eyes to his right side waiting impatiently. Once Dad was in sight, Tyson’s eyes always lit up and he would smile and they would talk about their days. A long-standing tradition between them was singing “Take Me Out to the Ballgame”, and special core memories between them involved watching televised major sporting events. Dad saved Tyson’s life more than once, and upon reflection, Tyson saved Dad’s life, too. He was all in for Tyson; it was life changing for them both.

Tysons legacy runs far and wide. There would never be enough time or words to express all that he was or did. He left the world a more beautiful and loving place. Tyson could be mistaken for being not particularly interesting, but those who felt that couldn’t be more wrong. He communicated via vocalizations, meaningful blinks, eye gazes, tongue movement and/or attempts at making noise (though only air came out) and switches. Depending on alertness, health status, and other variables, Tyson used one or multiple modes of communication to get his point across. Because each and every one of these were responded to as a bid for communication, he made the connection he was understood. Noises changed over time to clear repeated sounds for yes/no, like/dislike, annoyance/happiness. They were not the same two sounds used as positive and negative. He had a small repertoire. If a communication partner didn’t notice these as anything other than a special needs kid making noise, they are lost an incredible opportunity to get to know Tyson. Things like:

His likes- Smiling, laughing, dressing up for Halloween and going trick-or-treating (and his special parking spot!), music, books, Pictello books, Bubbly game, colorful lights, disco balls, baths, bubbles, clothes he deemed “cool”, having his hair washed/brushed/cut, classic rock, 90’s grunge, Bob Marley, Bee Gees, Beach Boys, Katy Perry’s “Roar”, Whitney Houston, John Mayer (annoyingly), watching shows on the iPad, playing with toys, snuggling, lava lamps, soft cozy blankets, being warm, stuffies, receiving compliments, hats, clean sheets, shopping (especially malls and BJ’s), being in nature, his Tonie box, his Amazon Alexa Echo Show, decorating the Christmas tree, seeing his friends, going to sisters softball games, Great Wolf Lodge, annual excursion to the Champlain Valley Fair, having people sing to him, train rides, musical instruments, baking (especially holding the handheld mixer and cracking eggs), animals of all types, going through sprinklers and so much more!

His dislikes: Pants (who could blame him?!), poopy diapers, being cold, old school country music, Jack Johnson’s music (randomly), being alone, jackets, blood draws, prolonged loud noise/chaos, overly bright lights, being wet outside of water time, bugs touching him, being stuck in a position for too long, long car rides, being dirty, the Bipap, being bored, long days at Drs, restaurants, snow, rain, tight socks, cold water, being woken up, dogs barking, Mama cleaning/poking at his face, lawnmowers, working with providers who didn’t get him, and a few other things, but truthfully not too many as he was a happy guy who focused more on what he DID like!

Perhaps of most significance, Tyson changed the world simply by existing. His life, and unrealized at the time, his legacy, has been presented on national and international stages, through webinars, conferences, recordings and more.

His strength and determination to live and thrive was unmatched, even at the very end. From extubation at day of life 8 to death at 11.5 years, he proved over and over again the power of love and the want to live and participate. He surpassed life expectancy by well over a decade, made gains thought to be impossible, found pathways to communication, and thrived socially and academically. As a newborn, certain medical providers often stated Tyson would never have a good quality of life. He would be a “vegetable”, life would be filled with “suffering” and he’d be stuck “in a room in the back”, holding us back as a family. Some stated we didn’t understand what we were getting ourselves into. They were only correct about that one part. We could never have fathomed all that Tyson would become and the wonderful things he’d get us into. A good friend to his peers, a loving sibling, outgoing personality, interested in learning, communicating, participating, being involved. His was SO funny with both a dark and light sense of humor, the best laugh (in his obit picture he is showing his mischievous laugh and smile due to Dad’s aches and pains holding him up, versus his big, full smile that lit up a room), and a willingness to try new things (unusual for children like him). He taught medical and educational providers the power of assuming competence; believing that things were possible even if they seem implausible, that perhaps he could with the right accommodations in place. No, Tyson would never walk, but he learned to smile (on his 4th birthday!). His first word was “Mama”, his second “ugh”, third “uh huh”, fourth “haha”. He learned to activate muscle groups, be creative, play games interactively, take turns, count numbers, recognize letters, repeat sounds, and love big. To share thoughts and emotions, connect with people of all ages, to learn about his body and it’s needs. He taught others to believe, to question what they thought to be unwavering truths about kids like Tyson. Many learned it’s ok to be misinformed, to make mistakes and change the way they operated within their profession. He taught peers to be understanding and accepting, the power of inclusion and foundational relationships. Tyson knew who he was and what he was capable of, as did his family. We only ever wanted the best for him.

It became clear a few years in it was time to put his actions into words. Mama began quietly and worked up to regularly presenting on all things Tyson. This led to a variety of opportunities to get Tyson’s message out, with his blessing. Tyson had, and still has, stories to tell, lessons to teach. He has helped shape policies, procedures, programs, even careers. He’s assisted in advancing science and best practices. For Michelle, the title most often associated with her and her reputation as she spoke was “Tyson’s Mom”. And that’s exactly who she was in those moments, his Mama, the messenger. These were Tyson’s stories, his life, and Mama was being his voice when he could not, but these opportunities came from the strength of a young child, not the adult speaking. He was a powerful being simply by existing and being his authentic self.

We’ve always been acutely aware we were on borrowed time. Biology and health overtook competence and love. We’ve always had to love him without knowing what would come next. But these moments of realizing he was in there at a very young age were life changing. We treated him as though his body was betraying him, but his personality, his true being was always alive and well, and capable in his own ways. It simply took time and effort to coordinate letting it out. We were never wrong in following his lead! These moments changed everything, and created a higher level of connection. Tyson was worthy of being believed in, and his family always did. Mama ensured he was surrounded by those who believed in him too, and uplifted him in health, education and socialization.

In this, the family would like to thank a great deal of people—and some will likely be forgotten to be mentioned, but please know you are all SO appreciated. As much as Tyson changed people’s lives, they too expanded his. They were not simply medical staff or school providers, they were an opportunity for Tyson to learn, socialize and expand his world, learning to interact with all types of people for a variety of reasons and learning how to make choices and advocate for himself.

Tyson’s medical team changed with age or retirement of providers, but one stood with Tyson his entire life, from the beginning to the literal end: Jessica Jacobs, MD. There will never be enough words or time to express the gratefulness of her constant care. She saw Tyson for hundreds of visits in his short life. She was always thoughtful, inclusive of the family and Tyson’s opinion, detailed in explaining her decision making. She always spoke directly to Tyson, and laughed and joked with him. She knew what he disliked during visits (the right side!). She was kind, loving, caring, rational, and deeply understanding of the difficulty and complexity of daily life. She would always make time for Tyson (and his siblings!). Every day was Dr Jacobs Appreciation Day. As Tysons’s communication grew, he was able to identify when he needed to go see Dr Jacobs (“uh huh”); he was always right. She took him seriously, and with her intensive, thoughtful care, he lived far longer than anyone expected. We hope she knows how integral she was on this journey.

At DHMC: Kathleen Collins, Tyler Hartman, Leah Mosenthal, Amer Al-Nimr, Laura Cogswell, Annette Helms, Francis Lim-Liberty, Nina Sand-Loud, Filomena Kersey, DHART teams, and the many nurses we got to know during those beginning years in the PICU. Each took great care in Tyson’s health and well-being. And always complimented on how good he looked, which Tyson loved!

And to the PICU team who did everything they could to save him. Though we were with you for less than 24 hours, we saw your valiant efforts, filled with love and care. You wanted the best for him. You tried every avenue and made sure you had all the information and knew what was happening in his body. You didn’t give up until we said “stop”. You saw us at the absolute worst of times and wrapped around our whole family. Thank you isn’t enough.

At UVM: Gregory Holmes took care of Tyson’s neurological needs. He always stated how impressed he was with Tyson and his growth/capabilities. Tyson loved the compliments!

At BCH: Drs Juliana Mariani, Dennis Rosen, Roger Nuss, Craig Birch, and the CCS team. These providers saw Tyson for not only what he was, but what he could be medically. They changed his life by joining Team Tyson.

At CHHC: Magdalene Miller always cared for “Mr. Pants” working hard to find help and bring supplies, Paul Lister and Jenn Scianna believed in the power of relationships, hard work, and fun. He learned to swallow because of them, and we learned Tyson loved sour, sweet and cold treats!

Stacia Ghafoori, Anjali Reagey, Hayley Lowell, Kristy Maguire. These wonderful individuals opened Tyson’s world to Harry Potter, 90’s grunge, Little Blue Truck, Bob Marley, Baby Shark, rock lullabies, fast cars, animals around the world, and the Monty’s (and their Aunty and Uncle) among many many other things. Each may have been with Tyson for varying periods of time, but those memories, influence, and their exquisite, detailed care undoubtedly changed Tyson’s life for the better. They weren’t intermittent nursing care; they were also his friends.

While over the years positions changed, one thing remained the same; it took a huge team to keep Tyson alive and well. Mama sat at the head of that team.

Educationally, the St Johnsbury School supported Tyson in ways they likely never thought possible. Our home became an outlet of the school. Though Tyson could never attend in-person, as a school team we found ways to connect through iPad/Zoom and later, the prized VGo Robot. They thought outside the box and put Tyson first. When he was healthy, Mama and Tyson went on school field trips. His last one was to the Fairbanks Planetarium, where we held hands and watched the skies, surrounded by his peers. Tyson was in awe and engaged the entire time.

The school found outside and in-house providers and teachers who rocked our world. Our deepest thanks to Jenn Hallett (playing racoon and possum! Maple syrup! So many switches to trial! The Vgo investigator!), Jordan Cota (the fearless, trusted leader of Team T! Always on top of the beloved schedule and gathering the troops! World’s best communicator), Heather Bernier (a fierce advocate and diligent in equipment acquirement!), Anna Jackson (shenanigans! And the biggest laughs with fun CVI-friendly stories!), T’s favorite “Mr Dan” Dan Howarth (use your good eye, Mr Dan!, clapping and cheering! The best Pictello book creator! So many rounds of Bubbly!), Katy Adamus (and Maddie and Gabby) (more! Click! Brain breaks! Ooh’s and Aah’s, but never the ee’s!), Patrice McDonough, Maureen Pearl, Abby (IT tolerator of many requests!) Tracy Evans-Luiselli, the entire I-Team, Nicole Fitzpatrick, Kara Lufkin (always supporting throughout his school years), Lydia Cochrane (you “got it” from the start!), Christine Goodwin (our first teacher trial, what a sport!), Lisa Ulrich (Tyson’s other Intervener! You started the classroom access revolution), Becky Walsh (the best Vgo classroom mover! Total access always), Rebecca Brown (showing the power of get-to-know-you games), Pam Fallon (howdy to our most thoughtful and inclusive neighbor! The videos will be cherished forever!). Each person had a special and unique relationship with Tyson, showing the power of connection. Tyson learned to identify letters, create stories, answer questions, and choose what to do next. The memories are vast, the laughs were big, and relationships valued.

Huge accolades to this year’s school peers. Thank you to our second-grade math friends. Every time Tyson joined on the Vgo, you always shouted his name and came running to see him. Your inclusion and want to partner with him and make him laugh made learning math extra fun! You let him in on your jokes and included him in the not-so focused times when off-task and being silly. But Tyson never told! In first grade, you would protect him when going down the hall and the bigger kids would say “what’s that?!” and point at the Vgo or make a mean, snarky remark about Tyson. You’d sternly say, “That’s our friend, Tyson, mind your own business!” What advocacy and protection at such young ages. We are so proud of you!

We also send lots of love to Tyson’s beloved 5th grade Olympians. Your meaningful friendships, videos, storytelling, read alouds, thoughtful conversations, inclusion, personal connections and partnership changed Tyson’s life in ways you’ll likely never fully understand. He felt so positive to help you in your times of need or when you may have been feeling emotionally off kilter, but it was also so huge for him to be a peer. You were there for him, having age-appropriate conversations (never talking down to him or changing your speech), with emotional vulnerability and inside jokes. You did projects together, planted flowers together, even made school reports. He wasn’t special needs to you; he was simply Tyson. Your happiness to see him was genuine, and it was returned to you ten-fold. Tyson was ALWAYS ready and wanting to see each of you. Even when he wasn’t dressed, even when he didn’t feel well. He adored you. You gave him true, fulfilling, meaningful friendships. As his parents, we always worried he’d never have that, and you are Olympians in the truest meaning. You rose to the top of the mountain in friendship and purposeful inclusion. The videos you made were on repeat. You brightened his life, and ours. Always remember, you are each Tyson Tough! We’re here for your always.

Though by now you all are tired of reading (Mama is wordy!!), we need to acknowledge:

Walgreens Pharmacy in St J and then the move to Lyndonville for always having Tyson’s back around his prescriptions. Cooper Wile for knowing what Tyson needed for equipment and tolerating our indecisiveness. Alyshia Berrios for being a huge support and advocate. Kayla Gooden for throwing yourself into the deep end of medical support. Dr Travis Howard and Kelly at North Country Chiropractic for taking care of Mama’s ruined back from carrying Tyson around for 11.5 years. Debbie Manning for being the best medical social worker and listener of all time. Zenaida Kim for ensuring Tyson qualified for services, even if we couldn’t fill the positions. Linda and Steve Hazard for always having Tyson’s back and caring for our entire family. You “got” us and made sure those around us did, too. Emma Fricke, who at the beginning opened our eyes to who Tyson could be in spite of his perceived limitations—she started the assuming competence movement. She trusted Tyson to hold her newborn baby unassisted, a precious memory for all. Becky Patrick, the most influential respiratory therapist of all time; the greatest advocate for DME, assisting with issues, best complaint department (ha!), and a source of conversation and laughs. Michelle Falconer, no one could have taken care of Tyson’s monthly orders the way you did! We depended on you, and you always came through, reliable support, there’s no else we could have trusted, you were a lifeline and ALWAYS on top of things. The Langmaid, Putvain, and Thompson families, your support during and outside of sports has been amazing. You included all of us all of the time, and showed us safety in ways we’d been sure were impossible. Town Taxi, especially our beloved Mr Jim, though technically your job was for Trinity and Layne, you supported our entire family consistently. You were a safe place to laugh, listen to music, listen to kids telling long stories, and creating space for us to know that Tyson could safely stay home without worrying about the younger ones getting where they needed to go. You were only a call or text away, we knew we could count on you all! Julia Thrailkill, hair cutter extraordinaire. You made Tyson feel amazing with his “cool dude” cuts. You found a way for him to sit supported in your chair, not his wheelchair; he was just like his siblings. The compliments he received on his hair made him smile and eyes shine brighter; he loved to show it off. He enjoyed every part of the process. He’d work hard to activate his neck muscles to hold his head up and turn for you. We never thought this seemingly mundane part of his life would flourish, but you were a blessing for the entire family and our hair! Last and most definitely not least, our UPS driver. You have carefully and tirelessly delivered multiple(!!) times a month to our door for many years; we fell into a system. All packages were delivered on time, safely covered, neatly piled (heaviest on the bottom!), and whether you knew it or not, all contained necessary supplies to keep Tyson alive; they were vital to his life. You were always so kind to all of us, incredibly friendly, and we trusted you in a way you likely had no realization of. You deserve to be included in this obituary. We will miss your regular visits, always with a smile, a wave, and greeting or a compliment.

Tyson died on a cloudy, snowy Saturday morning, the day after Valentine’s Day. As a family, we hope this means yearly we’ll be reminded of the love that was created, the change in perspectives of so many, and the hope he gave. We’ll try our best to smile that it was a cold, snowy day, recalling its two of his absolute least favorite things! This time is unfathomably difficult, and in many respects, we don’t see how life can go on; there are opposing feelings of great gratitude and huge grief. However, we know the biggest lesson Tyson ever taught those he met and even those who heard about him on the national stage is even in the face of significant adversity, do your best to be “Tyson Tough”! Tyson, you may not have been ours to keep for long, but the time we shared changed us in ways that can never be undone. You were by far the best years of our life; you’re the greatest person we’ll ever know. Your death has created an unfillable ache, a loneliness and pain nothing can touch. As the saying goes, if love could have saved you, you would have lived forever. We are better for having you, raising you and assisting you through life and death. We have to hope as time goes on the memories we have will be a guiding light to continue to honor you, your personality, and your legacy. You are the greatest gift. We love you so much, Tyson.

Thank you to the wonderful people at Cremation Society of New Hampshire/Phaneuf Funeral Services in Manchester, NH, especially Tyler Call and Buddy Phaneuf. Your understanding and consideration of the specific needs and grief of unexpectedly losing our 11-year-old child was very helpful in the most painful time.

Service date and location to come soon. Please check back for more information

RUBY IN HER OWN TIME

by Johnathan Emmett and Rebecca Harry

“Will it ever hatch?” said Father Duck. “It will.” said Mother Duck. “In its own time.” And sure enough, it did.

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Mother Duck and Father Duck watched Ruby fly off into the distance. “Will she ever come back?” said Mother Duck. “She will” said Father Duck “in her own time”.