Sweet Memories of Todd

Hello, friends. I am sorry to have "gone missing" slightly over six months ago. A lot has happened in my life since the last time I posted, and I am finally ready to make a record of it here. I like the idea that, when I create my next blog book, the events from July 29th and onward will be captured in print.

Many of my faithful readers already know my news from Facebook, but for those to whom it is new, I apologize for the abruptness of it all. The sad truth is that my son, Todd Anderson, passed away in his bed on July 29th at the age of 36. He had been ill for a long time, so it wasn't exactly a surprise to us. Having said that, it still managed to be profoundly shocking. Strange how two opposite feelings can exist simultaneously, but that was our experience.

We have had wonderful support from family and friends, and the funeral was perhaps the most lovely (and loving) that I have ever attended. I am going to begin by chronicling the days following Todd's death in the exact form as it was sharedon Facebook, not only for my blog friends but for posterity:

July 30th

It is with heavy hearts that we tell all our friends and family that our son, Todd Anderson, passed away early Sunday morning. His funeral will take place this Thursday at the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. The viewing will be at 10:00 AM and the services at 11:00 AM. Though Facebook has a pretty far reach, if you are aware of any friend of Todd's who might not see this post, please share the information with them. Thanks. 

July 31st

We are getting questions from friends who are not members of our church about whether the funeral services for Todd Anderson are open to them. The answer is, "Of course they are!" Our family is grateful for anyone and everyone who wants to join us in remembering Todd this Thursday. You are all more than welcome. 💕 

August 1st

Never imagined writing an obituary for one of my children, but here it is, Todd. We love you.

TODD ALLAN ANDERSON

Todd Allan Anderson was born on May 18, 1982 in Verdugo Hills, California. He grew up in Northridge, California until the age of eight, when his family relocated to the Bay area and their current home.

An accomplished student, Todd was well-loved for his intelligence, humor, and insight. He was an eagle scout, an all-star little leaguer, and a varsity football and basketball player who graduated from Saratoga High School. Todd, with his affinity for helping others, did social work before receiving his bachelor's degree in Cellular and Molecular Biology from the University of Arizona. He then attended the UC Irvine School of Medicine until his failing health made that impossible.

Todd died on July 29, 2018 and is survived by his father (Dave Anderson), mother (Sue Anderson), brother and sister-in-law (Matt and Heather Anderson), sister and brother-in-law (Karin and Bob Valdez), and his brother (Ryan Anderson). He also leaves behind two grandparents, five nieces and nephews, and an extended family that loves him dearly and will miss him every single day. Todd was laid to rest at Madronia Cemetery on August 2.

Later that day

And on the heels of that obituary, a snapshot of Todd Anderson, Ryan Anderson, and Dave Anderson in happier days. Todd loved our Newport Beach vacations. What a good-looking guy, and how I will miss looking into those beautiful blue eyes, lit by that dynamite smile. Love you, buddy.

Senior picture. What a great kid!

Just found this picture of Todd Anderson, taken at the conclusion of his white coat ceremony at the UC Irvine School of Medicine. What a joyous conclusion that was!

August 4, 2018 - funeral day

This is the memorabilia table from Todd’s funeral service. His cousin, Kristin Blake Mills, put together a wonderful video slide show that we just loved, and Tyler Blake set up a great sound track to accompany it. A lot of friends Todd and Ryan went to high school with were there (thanks for coming, guys), and it was a nice way for all of us to take a walk down memory lane. We miss Todd so much, and remembering him and all the good times means everything to us.

.

The men Todd knows and loves best carried him into the chapel. It was a sad but stirring moment to see them all supporting Him so lovingly. We were touched by how many friends and family members attended the services. 

Bishop Robinson opened the meeting by welcoming everyone to the services, then Ryan Anderson gave perhaps the most touching eulogy I have ever heard. It had all the elements of humor, sentiment, and thoughtfulness that make up a memorable tribute, and we know Todd had to love it. (We feel sure he was there to listen.) When Ryan concluded his talk, Tyler Blake (cousin) sang and played a David Gray song for which he had reworked the lyrics, personalizing them for Todd. It touched our hearts so deeply; and man, is he talented (if we do say so ourselves, and we do). Todd and Tyler have always had a close cousin bond, and this offering more than did it justice. After Tyler, our BFF Mike Taylor gave an incredible talk about eternal families and perspective, both earthly and eternal. We love Mike, and he loves Todd; so we knew he was the right one to speak. Following Mike, Caroline Call Owens sang a stirring arrangement of The Lord's Prayer, accompanied by her mom, Sheila Call. We have always loved Caroline's voice and were so thrilled to have her participate with us. (Wish we had a photo for you, but we somehow missed getting one.) We then gave family members a chance to speak briefly at the podium to and about Todd. When the service came to a close, the pallbearers reverently removed the casket. As you can see, Ryan and Matt were making sure their little brother was closely attended. (I don't think we are supposed to take pictures in the chapel, but our relative who took them didn't know. To be honest, I am grateful to have them.

We left the chapel and arrived at the cemetery, where Todd was carefully carried to his final resting place on this earth. It is a beautiful spot, and his family and closest friends awaited him there. 

 

Todd's father, Dave Anderson, dedicated the grave, and the services concluded. It was a day of extreme sorrow, but our knowledge of resurrection and eternal life brought hope and joy as well. How grateful we are for a Savior who loves us, and we will rely upon His spirit to heal and comfort this unspeakable loss of our beloved son and brother, Todd. May we ever continue to stand all amazed at the love and hope our Savior offers every child of God, and may Todd be encircled in His arms until we are together once more.

FUNERAL PROGRAM

August 5th

We visited Todd’s grave yesterday and feel grateful that he rests in such a beautiful, peaceful place. Several dear friends are buried near him, as we will one day be. I like that. 

∞§∞

That's about all I can take of this walk down memory lane for today...The memories, as you can imagine, are still very tender. From here on out, I will just start posting the poems I have written, the thoughts I have had, and the beautiful things I have found in my journey of healing thus far. I hope some of it might be as helpful to someone grieving the loss of a dearly beloved person as it has been to me.

{Love you, Toddy.}

From the Heart

from the heart

(for ryan)

©2018 susan noyes anderson

city beat

city heat

miles of pavement

pulsing feet

dirty asphalt

ocean breeze

misty mornings

nights to seize

sidewalk sleepers

suited men

money makers

born again

mission district

nob hill flair

sunset, castro

union square

trolley crossings

up-and-downs

beeping, dinging

magic sounds

snaky streets

bridge of gold

arching, soaring

bonny, bold

gritty, graceful

work of art

san francisco

from the start

(bring your dreams

leave your heart)

for more poems, click below

 for more poems, click below

Robin Williams: The Joy and the Sadness

It's been a long time since I've felt irresistibly compelled to blog about something that's happened in the "real" world. My posting has slowed down considerably since my husband retired, and much of what I share is poetry at this point.

Having said that, today I hope to create some prose that somehow expresses my feelings about the death of Robin Williams. Experiencing such a visceral reaction to the passing of someone I don't even know surprises me, and I want to understand more about why I feel so personally bereaved. Clearly, I am not alone, because everywhere I look––both online and off––people are remembering him, talking about him, mourning him. I am mourning, too.

There was a joy about him, wasn't there? An irrepressibility of spirit that is rarely seen. It showed up in his comedy and in his acting, and it was carried in his eyes...kind eyes...eyes that twinkled both his joy and his suffering, often at the same time. In every close-up, you could see his humanity, his realness, his compassion...and he felt like your uncle, your father, your very close friend. There was a sweetness in his smile, one that transcended acting...or maybe I should say eclipsed it...because you could not look past the sense that he was every bit as kind and loving as he appeared. His unshuttered eyes were one of the remarkable things about him, I believe.

Of course he was funny, beyond funny, perhaps the funniest man we've ever seen; and he could act his pants off. (I smile, knowing Mr. Williams would have been off and running with that idiom.) Good Will Hunting and Dead Poets' Society and Good Morning Vietnam speak for themselves, and I believe Mrs. Doubtfire probably speaks for all of us who hope to find love and belonging in the world, with a few laughs along the way.

And so we are sad for ourselves, because we lost a bright light...a lively and creative mind...a genius of so much more than comedy. And we are sad for his family, who loved him as only those whose lives are personally touched by someone's energy can...up close and personal...so personal that his daughter Zelda's quote from Antoine de St.-Exupery's The Little Prince brought tears to my eyes in the reading, as did his birthday tweet to her last month (same link). But there is something more that saddens me, something that touches all of our lives as personally as Robin Williams touched the lives of his family.

Robin Williams was bipolar, which means he not only swung happy, but he swung sad...a sadness every bit as devastating as the humor that he so freely shared with us was elevating. Articles are saying that he "struggled" with depression, but that verb doesn't quite work for me. If my observations (formed by knowing and loving more than one person who is bipolar) mean anything, this remarkable man didn't struggle with depression. He was tormented by it, anguished by it, devastated by it. It terrified him in its unpredictability, in its inability to be reliably affected for the long term by treatment of any kind. Every remission was fickle, every relapse a desperate search for something new that might work, now that what was old had ceased to be effective. Most of the time, he didn't let that stop him. Monday, on one very bad morning, he did.

We are all the losers. The man was beloved, but I am troubled at statements made by strangers who would label him "selfish" for having the audacity to leave them and us bereft, people who clearly have never suffered as Mr. Williams did. Don't get me wrong, I am not a proponent of suicide...and I hope I never have to find out how it feels to love someone who seeks respite in that particular escape. But we can't judge another's pain unless we have walked a mile...no, 63 years...in his shoes, nor can we judge that person's inability to withstand the lure of permanent release in one weary, weakened moment when even his valiant spirit failed him.

Here's the thing. Robin Williams, judging from a career observed by many, was what we like to call in my family "a very hard tryer." He pushed himself to excel and achieve again and again, despite being afflicted (through no fault of his own) with the worst sort of burden to bear. I would guess that Sysyphus himself had nothing on Mr. Williams as he stressed and strained to push that boulder of depression up the hill, only to see it roll back down...over and over and over. Every time that stone hit bottom, I can only believe the heart of Robin Williams did, too...and as time passed, that bottom probably started feeling lower, that rock heavier. One of the most harrowing features of depression is its relentlessness...the inexorable nature of it...the entirely based-in-reality fear of never truly escaping it.

Selfishly, I wish Robin Williams had not escaped it. But I take exception to anyone calling him "selfish" for being temporarily overwhelmed by it. Another day, he might have found the strength to start pushing that boulder uphill yet again. Monday, he didn't. But that was one day out of a lifetime. And his courage was and is undeniable.

A final thing, if you'll bear with me. One actress tweeted, "If only Robin had known how many people loved him," her well-meaning inference being that, had he known of this love, he would not have ended his life. My thoughts run a different direction. I believe it is because Mr. Williams knew exactly how many people loved him that he found a way to live with his depression for 63 years. And for that, I thank him.

{I also thank untold others who are doing the same.}

A Little Birthday Bird Told Me...

Some mothers know just what to do

to build a cozy nest.

They know where every twig belongs

and choose only the best.

Their young are nurtured carefully

in colors warm and bright.

To comfort and protect them brings

these mothers pure delight.

They gather feed to fit each need,

 

till every mouth is filled.

Their eyes are ever watchful, and

their love songs never stilled.

How wonderful such mothers are. 

What beauty they impart.

How blessed the little ones they bear

and care for, heart to heart.

Dedicated to my mother, Darlene Robbins,

and her very cozy

Robbins Nest ~

where every child 

finds love enough

to grow. 

Happy Birthday, Mom!

Would you be mad if I told

everyone how old you are today?

Because you sure don't look 87!

;)

We love you.

Sue, Dave, and the FAM

(Are you wearing your new necklace??)