Tristan would also bring home friends all the time, whether they needed a home cooked meal (“Mom’s Spaghetti” as they would call it), a place to sleep or a family, and we always had at least one or two kids on the couches or on his bedroom floor. Sometimes these kids would end up staying awhile, and I’d start to wonder if they’d ever leave. I remember one time where I came downstairs in the morning and Tristan (about 16 at the time) was playing a video game while his friend slept on the couch. The kid had been there 3-4 nights already and so I tried to discreetly ask him how long his friend would be staying with us, and he said “Don’t be so judgy mom! He has nowhere else to go!” LOL…Tristan always knew what to say to guilt you into doing what he wanted. But he also really, truly cared about people. (Sidenote: that kid ended up in jail for a brief stint later and wrote me a letter in which he said: “I still remember the time I fell asleep on your couch and you put a blanket over me & a pillow under my head. That is one of the few times I truly felt loved & cared for in my life.”) Hearing the stories some of you sent me about Tristan & his kindness made me think “he got that from his mama”….but I realize now that I also learned a lot of that from him.

This past Christmas we decided to take a trip to Hawaii, something Tristan had been wanting to do for years. I had booked the trip earlier in the year and as we got closer I started to think that maybe it wasn’t such a good idea. The real estate market had slowed considerably last year and I was struggling financially. Hawaii is very expensive, especially around the Holidays, so I seriously considered putting the trip on hold & maybe just visiting him for his birthday instead. I had voiced this to a friend at the time and she told me that she had put off a visit from her mom for Thanksgiving as she had so much going on & figured they could do Christmas instead. Her mom died in between. So she told me to go, no matter the cost or effort. I am forever grateful to her for that. (Tristan passed shortly before his birthday.)

As many of you know, Chico followed him everywhere, and Tristan often took him out Writing, Chico running around his legs as he painted. And Chico stood by him til the very end…he was found laying on top of him on the couch the day he was found in his condo. Cheers to our little OG boy Chico!

Tristan’s talent & love for graffiti started when he was around 12. I can’t remember how many times I got a call in the middle of the night that he had been arrested & I had to go pick him up from Juvie Hold. One of those times I lost it with him as I was driving him home & was crying and yelling at him, asking him when he was going to stop. Tristan was his quiet, pensive self, and replied with tears in his eyes, “Mom, I love you more than anything in the world & I would give up everything for you. But I want you to understand that I will never give up graffiti.” Somehow I understood and I made peace with it at that point. It’s hard as a mother to support them when you know your child is constantly putting himself in danger, or could be arrested, but I knew I couldn’t change him so the only thing I could do was love him unconditionally. 

With the whole Southwest Airlines fiasco over Christmas we got stuck in Hawaii & after days of flight cancelations my younger son, Troy, & I finally got a flight out but they had nothing for Tristan for at least another week. Thankfully a flight attendant I knew that just happened to be in Honolulu that day took him under his wing and let him share his room, gave him his Buddy Pass & put him on his flight back to Phoenix. Someone else I am so grateful for!

He ended up finding a flight back to Portland from Phoenix the next day & I drove him to the airport. Little did I know that would be our last conversation in person, and one of the deepest we’d had in a long time. Because of some previous bench warrants for graffiti in Arizona he was afraid that he might get arrested at the airport & this made him want to tell me everything on his heart. We’d had some fights over the holidays & Tristan apologized for that & said he didn’t understand why he did that with me. I told him I thought it was because we were so alike. He agreed. He talked about life and wanting to get clean, people he wanted to meet & places he wanted to go. He cried talking about his younger brother (who battles with addiction) and how worried he was about him & how he would do anything to help him. Then he gave me a long hug goodbye…the last I’ll ever have.

I still can’t believe he’s gone and I’m often unsure if I’ll make it through. It’s just too much to bear sometimes. I wish I could have saved him or been there with him. Because he lived in another State I had to deal with a lot in a relatively short time, including moving everything out of his condo so we could lease it. Going through his things at his apartment was very difficult, but it gave me a perspective of him I didn’t know. Tristan lived life to the fullest & he had/did so many things I’ve always wanted to have or do, that I either put off or felt guilty about purchasing; like a record player and stacks of records, art, etc. It just makes me want to live each day to the fullest & remind everyone that life is short: spend time with your family, wear the cool clothes, do all the things!

I’ve received such an outpouring of love & messages from his friends & followers (of his art), telling me how much he meant to them & how he touched their lives, how he got them through hard times, stopped them from ending their life, etc., and that is what has been the greatest comfort to me so far. Tristan struggled with so much & had some real trauma in his life. He battled depression and addiction for years, but he was also so strong and wise beyond his years. I can still see him, in his calm, collected confidence, telling me, “Everything’s going to be ok, Mom”, or his favorite, “Waaah, Waaah” when I complained about something. One of his friends summed it up so well in his message to me: “Like many of us, Tristan was troubled. But he never let it affect his heart.” 

If Tristan could continue to be kind in spite of everything he suffered, then I can too. Since his death I have had this urge to just hug everyone I meet, especially anyone his age/type. (My friends have had to guide me away from going up and hugging strangers so I don’t seem like a weirdo.) So many are struggling and it’s so easy to judge from the outside. But hearing how he touched so many of you with his kindness & was so generous & caring, even when he himself was battling his own demons, makes me want to be like him. Some of you wrote me saying you aren’t sure if you can keep going without him, and I feel that. But he would have wanted us to, if only for him! If each of us can pick up the torch where he left off and make a promise to be more kind and caring to those around us we can keep his memory alive always.

I want to end with this poem: