A Eulogy for Andrew

My son passed away on July 28, 2025... after a reaction to his medicine... these are my frail words trying to make sense of it all...

“Children are a gift from the Lord; they are His reward.” ... Psalm 127:3

I am Chelsea and Andrew’s father. And there is nothing I could ever do...no accomplishment, no other title...that brings me more joy than being their dad.

A few months ago, I left my job to care for Andrew full-time. I didn’t know how short the time would be, but I am so grateful I had that opportunity. We got to go to the community center each day. We went to Walmart twice a day. I got to see him take his walks around the neighborhood 10 or 20 times a day. We got to be together...and work for better things.

Today we remember Andy…
Andy the gamer.
The stargazer.
The psychology student.
The world walker.
The author.
The comedian.
The deep thinker.
The coffee drinker.

We remember Andy...our precious son, loving brother, cousin, nephew, grandson, friend, and neighbor. And we remember Andy as one who suffered greatly these past few years with schizophrenia.

Today, I’m wearing his favorite Birkenstocks and a replica of his Jupiter t-shirt. It’s a replica because if I wore his original, well-worn one, it would be a crop top… and nobody needs to see that. I don’t know how many miles he walked in these sandals… but I know our neighbors saw him in them...day and night. He walked and walked… saying hello to those he saw… sometimes trying to process what he was experiencing, sometimes trying to push through the pain.

Just a few weeks ago, on a walk, I asked him to tell me about Jupiter...his favorite planet. He started by telling me that the core is hotter than the surface of the sun. That each layer of Jupiter is distinct...even in how they smell. And that Jupiter’s powerful gravity deflects or captures comets and asteroids, protecting Earth from their impact. That was Andy...fascinated by the universe. Intelligent, curious, and filled with wonder.

But along with his diagnosis came cruel and relentless voices...speaking pain into him daily. If you’ve seen A Beautiful Mind with Russell Crowe, you know a small piece of what he faced every day, from the moment he woke up until he went to sleep...voices and visions, often of those who had been most cruel to him.

In recent months, the voices grew darker. They said things like, “Andy, we have to kill you.”
Imagine carrying that. Imagine trying to function in a world that often didn’t understand.
And yet… he was kind. He showed gentleness in the middle of agony. He loved. He was still full of joy in moments. He still laughed. Then so quickly it all changed when he had a reaction to his meds… and we didn’t realize what had happened until it was too late.

I’ve thought about all the things he will miss…
Holidays with family and the freezing Silver Dollar City Christmastime.
Finishing his psychology degree and becoming a counselor.
Writing his sci-fi novel where each character suffered from mental illness.
Going down the KaPau Plummet at White Water.
Drinking his oatmeal cookie chai from Hometown.
Walking alongside the river at Dogwood Canyon.
Eating his linguini tutto mare from Vito’s.

But then I realized… he’s not missing a thing. He is not missing joy.
He is experiencing it in its fullness.
We are the ones who will miss him in all those places.
We are the ones aching for his presence.

C.S. Lewis once wrote:

“We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and pleasure and ambition when infinite joy is offered us...like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea.”

Lewis reminds us that even the best things of this life can’t compare to what God has prepared for His children.

Andrew is no longer in the mud puddles of this world. His suffering is over. And now, it would be incredibly selfish of me to want him back here...to suffer in this world only more.
He is at his holiday at the sea… in perfect peace.
He sees and knows the fullness of God’s love in a way we can’t yet grasp.
No more pain. No more sorrow. Only joy.

On Christmas Eve, our family always watches A Christmas Carol.
Our favorite version...of course...is The Muppet Christmas Carol.
I could whistle a tune from it in July, and Andy would immediately start singing the lyrics.

There’s a moment in the story...after Tiny Tim’s death is shown to Scrooge...when Bob Cratchit speaks of his son with aching love:

“We must never forget Tiny Tim, or how patient and mild he was, although he was a little, little child. We must remember his patience and his mildness, and we shall never quarrel easily among ourselves and forget poor Tiny Tim in doing it.”

And so, though my words here will soon be forgotten and we’ll all go back to our lives… I ask you just one thing:
When life feels heavy…
When you're tempted to choose anger or cynicism or cruelty…
Remember Andy.
Remember a young man who suffered deeply and still chose kindness.
Still chose love.
Still chose to go on.
Remember him… and choose to be kind.
Say thank you.
Hold the door open.
Smile, even when sorrow presses in.

It is said that sad birds still sing.
Andy did. And we can too.
Not because it’s easy...but because it matters.

I am Chelsea and Andrew’s father.
I will miss Andy every day. The places we used to go together feel incomplete now.

But we hold tight to the Lord’s hope that this is not the end of his story...
and not the end of ours.
We’ll see him again, whole and radiant.
Until then… we’ll remember…

And maybe love just a little deeper.

Author's Note

Still feeling a bit lost...

Reviews

[Belle]

Thank you for sharing this, truly. As a reader and fellow human being, I want to say that your words carry a depth of love and grief that is both heartbreaking and inspiring. The way you remember Andy,
his curiosity, his laughter, his kindness even in suffering, reminds all of us what it means to love fully, even when life is cruel. Your honesty, your faith, and the tender way you hold his memory invite us to reflect on our own capacity for compassion, patience, and gratitude.

I am deeply moved by your courage to live with such a loss while still celebrating his life. Your message doesn’t just honor Andy, it teaches all of us how to carry sorrow with grace and to choose kindness, no matter how heavy life feels. Thank you for letting us witness your love and your hope.

[An owl on the moon]

I so deeply appreciate your thoughts, your kindness, your understanding. And I am still learning those lessons... still learning to choose to show love and kindness no matter how I feel. Wishing you now such a bright, beautiful New Year.

[Ms claws]

What a wise soul you are. I have no doubt Andrew is a twin of you and like you say, he is perfect and perfectly happy and waiting for his entire family to join him forever.
All tears will be wiped from our eyes never to sorrow again. Ever.
Your heart is wholly in this write to your whole heart. Andrew is with you. Just another dimension.
Hugs.

[An owl on the moon]

GRATEFUL... TRULY. Thank you for this... and I do believe that. No more sorrow now... only peace.

[Dragon]

I wanna apologize to myself for living life the way I did up to this point. I'll learn to smile and choose kindness like you said and live my life to its fullest like your son Andy did. Sorry for your loss I can hear the emotions through the words, this tribute truly is beautiful.

[An owl on the moon]

Thank you... thank you so much for this. I want to be more like him too. Missing him so much right now.

[Desert Knave]

Wow. This is so emotional throughout. Beautiful tribute. ~Jim

[An owl on the moon]

I deeply appreciate your kindness, Jim.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

I am so sorry for your loss but glad you spent as much time with him towards the end as you could.

Hopefully, the many memories will always keep him alive and smiling in your hearts.

This is a beautiful tribute to a beautiful person.

j.

[An owl on the moon]

My friend, thank you for your words... your encouragement. I am truly so grateful to have had more time with him this year. Every moment was a blessing. 🕊️

[Lorry]

So sorry to hear of your loss Craig, but if it is some small consolation, then I should thank you for your introduction to Andy, albeit sadly too late.
What you said of his kindness while suffering his own personal storm shows us what that person was, a happy and kind soul living in an ever confusing world.
Although unrelated, Andy's story reminded me of a Daniel Ketes book called the minds of Billy Milligan. A wonderful writer who wrote almost exclusively about mental disorders, with 4 fiction and one non fiction book before his passing.
He is of course best known for flowers for Algernon, but all his books are exceptionally well written and although the minds of zblzBilly Milligan's was about multiple personality disorder, from your description of how your son was resonates within my memory of that particular book.
Reading that makes you understand that no matter the disorder there is a real life actual person caught within the disorders suffering and that is why I brought it up. You knowledge all too well that person caught within a disorders title is a real person that had hopes and dreams too.
I wish you well in your journey and hope that remembering your sons life in the moments he could be himself keep bringing you some comfort.

[An owl on the moon]

Thank you, Lorry... for your kindness... for letting me know of this writer... will search out his books. My son had been writing a novel, all rooted in mental illness issues, but he was unable to finish. I'm going to try. BLESSINGS. 🕊️

[John the Baptist]

As a retired mental health worker, I can understand to some extent where you're coming from. I was not touched by schizophrenia, but I knew many people who experienced the frightening hallucinations and delusions. Most of them did their best amidst the suffering, but it cannot have been easy. All I can tell from your description is that although he experienced misfortune in many ways, Andrew was lucky to have had such a father.

[An owl on the moon]

I am so grateful for your kindness... and for all those you blessed with your presence. This diagnosis can be an absolute horror at times... and those suffering need people to show kindness and love when all else is falling apart.

[Betty Hermelee]

This is a poignant piece of writing, a tribute to your son who had an unfortunate illness....and despite this, he lived, he laughed, he was kind, some joy filled his soul, but the painful part stings, not only to him, but to those who love him as well; The sorrow that you and your family felt for him; and we know there is no good cure for this...we know that demons are terrible things; but now no more demons and scary thoughts
He is at peace... sorry for your loss
Warmly, B

[An owl on the moon]

Betty, I truly appreciate your understanding... sensing both the beauty and joy, as well as the suffering and sorrow of my son. And peace... yes... he ached so deeply day after day. Now there is peace for him.

[Betty Hermelee]

You are very welcome, and I hope you don't suffer too much...
Warmly, B

[Kelly Scheppers]

To lose a child at any age of life is too soon. As difficult as it is to understand God's purpose, you must lean on his strength to get you through the days and years ahead. It's all we can do in letting go. What better place for Andrew to come to rest, than the arms of He who created him? That is where your peace now lies. God bless, my friend!

[An owl on the moon]

Yes... thank YOU, Kelly... thank YOU. He suffered horribly... and hadn't known any peace for so long. Now my comfort comes in knowing that he finally knows perfect peace.

[Samuel Dickens]

My words are too little. Please take joy in his memories, and I wish you strength.

[An owl on the moon]

Thank you so much, Sam. I have been going over his photos and albums lately... and there is much joy to lift me there.