Tim Volkert 1988-2003
Who You'd Be Today - Kenny Chesney
Sunny days seem to hurt the most
Wear the pain like a heavy coat
I feel you everywhere I go
See your smile, I see your face
I hear you laughing in the rain
Still can't believe your gone
It ain't fair you died to young
Like a story that had just begun
But death tore the pages all away
God knows how I miss you
All the hell that I've been through
Just knowing, no one could take your place
Sometimes I wonder, who you'd be today
Would you see the world
Would you chase your dreams
Settle down with a family
I wonder what would you name your babies
Someday's the sky's so blue
I feel like I can talk to you
And I know it might sound crazy
Sunny days seem to hurt the most
I wear the pain like a heavy coat
The only thing that gives me hope
Is I know, I'll see you again someday
Someday, someday
Timmy Volkert was 15 years old when he passed away in his sleep. He had an enlarged heart that nobody knew about and it gave out on him in early December 2003. I remember that day like it was today. The entire community was punched in the gut and we didn't catch or breath for days, weeks, months to come.
Timmy was a hero, larger than life, to kids like my son who is now the same age that Timmy will always be, 15. He was a baseball superstar and could have been cocky and arrogant. But he wasn't. He was kind, a role model. When Payton was in 5th grade and Timmy in 8th, Payton remembers Timmy giving him a kind pat on the head and a "hey, what's up kid?" in in the hallway. In San Carlos there is a Tim Volkert award in Pony Baseball given each year to the kid who most exemplifies Tim's character; dedicated, positive, encouraging to other players, always a smile on his face, always willing to do whatever the team needs him to do, a leader. Tim got these characteristics from his parents. When we went to visit them shortly after Tim's passing, THEY hugged US, THEY comforted US. Not because we needed it, or asked for it, but because that's just who they were and how they were as a family.
I'll never forget that cold December night we spent on the baseball field at Burton Park with hundreds of other community members and friends of Tim's. The candlelight memorial, the kids who played songs on their guitars and sang for Tim. The kids who cried for him and the adults who were trying to stay strong for them.
When Payton heard the song "Who You'd Be Today" and said, "Mom, this is totally a song about Timmy," I realized that Tim's death is still very much a part of who he his, who we are. But even more important than that, Tim's life is what we miss, what we strive to carry forward and carry with us every day.