one year tonight (at some time in the wee hours)

Bro, little bro, here we are at the turn of a year. I can't believe it. Can't believe so many things. Still - still/forever - can't believe you're gone. I've given up on even hoping to believe that, ever. But along with that acceptance also comes the realization that I don't ever have to let you go. Screw that. You're in my heart, my head, my life, forever.

I was in a yoga class the other night and during one of the poses, the teacher said "Turn your gaze skyward" which is not only a lovely way to say "look up", but it made me really smile and be comforted (in this difficult week, this lead-up to this "anniversary") to think that every time I look up, I'm looking "Sky-ward." Cuz I feel you up there, baby bro.

I've learned so much from you. This has been the worst, unimaginably horrific year ever. But it's also been the year of greatest learning. From you, from your pain and anguish, I've learned to find joy. From your worry and terror, I've learned some measure of acceptance. From your leaving - your unthinkable, devastating, soul-shredding leaving - I've learned, sweet boy, to live. To live, live, live, goddamnit. To love this precious life we have. Is that the gift you left behind? I'd give it all up to have you back, but I'm nonetheless deeply grateful for it.

Oh, baby, what you lost when you left this world. So much love. You were loved. You are loved. And, my god, are you ever missed.

God, do I miss you being in the world. A prayer to wherever you are:  lokah samastah, sukhino bhavantu. I pray that you have found peace, at last.

Loving you forever,

still grieving but keepin' on,

Your Big Sister who is gonna WHUP your ass when I see you. Count on it.

hugs to wherever,

Eve

Like grabbing at air

Bro,

I've been organizing all of your tools in my garage. The endless count of screwdrivers and hammers...what the hell did you do with all of those anyways?

As I clean, and put away each thing from the myriad buckets and bins, I'm trying hard to feel you, to be with you, to sense you. Each bucket of dirty and rusty shit might hold a key or map to get back to you. So far, just more tools and bolts and junk.

But, the gloves, those soft black ones, the ones you wore when we wired the house. I wear those all the time. I thank you each time I slip them on. I really like them. I think of you, of us while I work. I ask you for your advice on if I'm doing the task in the right way. I'll stop for a sec, and rub my gloved hands together slowly, as if summoning some part of you...as if I can call upon some small glimpse of you, made tangible by the soft material and my active thoughts.

So, almost through all the buckets and the bins. Looking good and organized. Plenty of shit to fix around the house. Maybe you'll be at the hot water heater, or the low branches, or the flaky lightswitch.

Don't cry because it's over. Smile because it happened.
--Dr. Seuss

Out of the Darkness

In honor and in memory of Sky, we will be participating in a dusk-to-dawn Out of the Darkness Overnight fundraising walk for the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention, a nonprofit that works to raise awareness about suicide and depression, does crisis outreach to people in trouble, and provides support to people who've lost loved ones to suicide. We will be walking all night throughout the streets of Seattle on June 21-22 to make a statement about bringing the issues of suicide into the light. If you can and want to support us in what is already an incredible journey you can donate any amount at all by visiting our fundraising webpages: http://www.theovernight.org/fundraising/RememberingSky http://www.theovernight.org/fundraising/ForSky

Peace, Eve & Carolyn

in remembrance

i want to say as a non-family member that this is a beautiful thing to do and something i plan to never have happen in my name. thank you for reminding me why.

 

i'm glad i never made my numerous plans reality like Sky did but my manic depression has resulted in days and weeks spent in contemplation over choosing the method, time and place of my death.  in honor of my child, i chose meds and a hospital instead. (lucky for me, i never thought i could pull it off without leaving myself worse off than i started and without the ability to complete the job).

 

i am touched by your tribute in ways you cannot imagine as it reminds me of why i choose to stay alive at times when anything but here was where i wanted to be.

 

i don't believe in life after the last breath but your memories and tribute to your loved one keeps him alive and although i never met him, it brought him alive to me.

 

Ruth

Happy Birthday Sky

Sky,

Hey, it's your birthday and I should be e-mailing you with a "happy birthday", but instead I'm writing here. It doesn't feel right, but it is the way it is.

Rebecca and I have been thinking about you a lot, and some days we feel your presence more than others. Today was particularly strong and fitting. We've become community activists in our neighborhood, for a cause we think you would have supported and enjoyed hearing about. In fact, this morning we were interviewed by the local news and the story was aired this evening. We don't think this was some random coincidence it being on your birthday and all.

Today was a beautiful day as well, the only sunny day (with clear skies) we've had all month. We can't help but think you had something to do with that. It reminded us of how the weather cleared out just in time for your memorial.

Still, it seems we should be enjoying all of this with you: kicking back with a beer and laughing about how silly I looked on TV and then making silly noises that referenced all of the video games we played in college. However with everything that we've seen and felt today, we know that you're still with us.

Happy Birthday Sky--we love you and miss you.

Love,
Mikey & Becka

February 17, 1979

Happy Birthday Sky
wherever you are. Thinking
about you and loving you
and missing you and wishing
you were here.

xoxox, your brother-in-law,
John

birthday

Your birthday is coming, little bro. I don't know why but so far of all the shitty milestones that we've all passed through these past 6 months, this one is looming the largest for me. To say that I miss you is the understatement of a lifetime. When you died, baby brother, my heart cracked open and the person that I was died then, too. (Which, to tell the absolute truth, isn't necessarily a bad thing. But that's another story.) Suffice it to say that you are missed, body and soul. Three days until your birthday now, the day when you would have turned 29 years old. Missing you. Loving you.

Hey Sky

I am slogging through the 500+ photos I took during our Holiday visit to Nick & Shannon's house. Got some great shots of your niece & nephews playing in the snow, building igloos, unwrapping presents, playing with their new stuff. There's a bunch of the kids lined up on the upper bunk while C1 pelts mini-marshmallows at them with the blow-dart thing he got from O & H. You would have loved that. You would have been right there in the middle of it, bombarding the kids with marshmallows, making a big mess and laughing wildly, getting all the kids riled up and in "trouble," not caring about the aftermath, just enjoying the now and the great fun of it all.

It was two years ago we were all there together for what we didn't know then would be the last time. I have a bunch of great photos from that visit; I especially love the one of you with your sibs flipping me off as I take the picture.

It's weird how much I miss you, how much your non-presence in these current photos feels so just plain wrong, like in that Back to the Future episode where the brother fades out of the photo because the past was altered. Where are you, Sky? I want you in these pictures, damn it. You're over four months gone now but if anything the ache of your absence grows more acute with every photo I offload that you're not in. I guess it's good in a way (I am desperately hoping) -- maybe this is the way that for me the reality of your forever goneness will finally sink in and I can stop wishing for what can't be undone, stop wanting what I can never have, stop imagining that instead of a gun you picked up a phone that night and called your brother, called your sisters, called your lover, called someone, called anyone....

I am so, so tired of thinking about what should have been, what should be -- how, for example, you and D (who you would have gone nuts over) will never know each other; how all the ways you would have been such an amazing influence on your niece and nephews as they grew up will never happen now; how all their memories of you will swirl away in the vale of time and "Uncle Sky" will be known by name only. And I am so mad that I have to accept the unacceptable, that I can't change the past, that what's done is done. Damn it. Damn it, Sky.

Merry Christmas, bro

This year it's strangely quiet. No sounds of you whipping the little ones into a frenzy playing with their new stuff. No big Sky laughing from the other room. No unexpected slaps to the back of my head as you pass by, followed by your Cheshire Cat smile as you wish me a "Merry Christmas".

I miss you, and the tree and the kids and the gifts and the crumpled wrapping make it more so.

Yeah, it's quieter than usual.

Nick

A Big Thank You!

We want to say a big Thank You to Baron Davis, a high school friend of Sky's, for making an extraordinary donation of $5000 to the Sky Rashby Memorial Fund at Caltech.

When Baron heard about Sky's death, he dedicated the Golden State Warriors opening night game to Sky. He also pledged to donate $200 per point he scored that evening. Baron scored an awesome 25 points, making for the $5000 donation. Thanks to Baron and the efforts of his assistant, Lori, Sky's nephews had great seats to watch all the action in Oakland that night -- and got cool Warriors jerseys. The experience was such a bright spot in what has otherwise been an incredibly difficult time.

So, thank you, Baron. Your kindness means a lot to our family.

And, thank you, Lori. It has been nice getting to know you and we appreciate everything you've done behind the scenes.

With admiration,
The Rashby Family

P.S. For information on the Sky Rashby Memorial Fund, go to http://web.gps.caltech.edu/memorial/sky_rashby.html.

How beautiful the ones who love

From afar, one could say
All hell broke loose and
Heaven rained its tears
On you

And yet (and yet)
The beauty in your face
Belies that hell
Even exists

And that the heaven that is partly
Sky (is now and ever shall be...)
Still sheds its love and light
On you