Stories: Who We Have Lost

Dog Boy and Holiday Guy

Who did you lose to Covid 19? Kyle Spiller

When my beloved son Kyle was little, we called him Dog Boy. If there was a dog within a 1/2 mile, Kyle would find it and love on it. I’ve never seen anyone so in love with dogs! We had many dogs over the years, so there were many opportunities to give and receive love. Sadly, due to family chaos during his childhood, I had to re-home the two dogs he had come to think of as his own. I know that Daisy, a black Basset Hound-Border Collie mix, and Duffy, a white rough coat Jack Russell Terrier, met him when he crossed over April 6, 2021 at 8:49 pm. He was 38, and had been married only two years.

Kyle was an interesting combination of steadfast loyalty, cranky impatience, infectious laugh, and endless forgiveness. He could be crabby and intolerant. He was willing to be understanding and forgiving. At his memorial, one of his buddies said he didn’t think he’d ever seen Kyle without a smile on his face. At 6’2″, 390 lbs., he was big in every way. Big heart, big appetite, big smarts, big beard, big love.

Kyle was our holiday maker. He refused to let a holiday go by without a get together. The only one we missed was Christmas 2020 because I was just too nervous about the virus. But that Thanksgiving we had a big meal in the living room of our half finished house. Bare grey block walls, a late November Colorado breeze blowing through the many openings yet to be filled with windows and doors, a football game on the TV, a microwave to reheat the quickly cooling food – a memorable day to say the least. We sat across the room from each other in green lawn chairs, Mike and I on one side, Kyle and Charlotte on the other. But we were together, and that’s what mattered to Kyle.

Kyle had a natural facility for sport and language, and became fluent in Spanish for his LDS mission to New Jersey. He played multiple sports and mimicked any accent, frequently making folks laugh with this talent. With the help of the church and his LDS family, he reinvented himself in high school, and created a good life with his conversion. Although he drifted away from the church in recent years, he maintained the many rich relationships he had made. Some of these wonderful people made possible his outdoor Celebration of Life when we were too deep in our grief to do anything, and many more came to share memories of him on that bright May afternoon.

Kyle and I butted heads quite a bit through the years. There were plenty of times when we were both tough to love. But we forged some kind of loving truce, and really enjoyed our time together. Strangely, now that he is dead, we have an even better relationship. We talk every day, though it is brief. He encourages me to stick out this human life, even without him. I miss his laugh and his generosity and his hugs and his genuine positive regard for us. He taught me to look for joy, though that is not my first inclination.

Kyle’s illness lasted just 17 days from beginning to end. He and Charlotte could not afford medical insurance, yet he was given every available treatment. We are forever grateful to his nurses, doctors, respiratory therapists and financial aid counselors for their unflagging efforts to help him. Charlotte was able, via a Kickstarter fund, to pay all of the fees that the hospital could not recover from the federal assistance program. Thank you, all you beautiful people.

We have been together in many lifetimes, and I look forward to seeing you again, Kylie, on the other side of the veil. Love you, Honey. See you in a while. Kiss those doggies for me.

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