The Life and Times of Totally Tyler

We are in the midst of a television writer’s strike. All that is on television are reality shows. I don’t know if I can handle another damned extended two-hour episode of Extreme Makeover: Home Edition.

Sometimes, I think I see my dead brother on a crowded avenue. Amongst the bobbing heads, I see his light brown hair sticking out from the back of his Yankees ballcap. He is tall and he awkwardly shuffles along.

Just as I was leaving my brother’s funeral, Creepy Uncle flagged me down. He quickly walked up to me, his cheeks wet with tears and his eyes droopy with sorrow. “I’m so sorry, man,” he said, hugging me. “Brenen will be missed.” His hug was lingering and I was uncomfortable. I’m not that crazy about Creepy Uncle because he’s…well, creepy.

“Brenen? Are you there?”

It was early in the morning and I was sitting on the hardwood floor of my Atlanta apartment looking up at the ceiling and talking to my dead brother. I don’t normally sit around talking to dead people and a part of me felt a little ridiculous but there was something I needed to know. A question I had to ask.