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My Salesian brothers,
On this Palm Sunday, the beginning of Holy Week, my thoughts and prayers are with all of you. I know we are all heartbroken for Tyler’s mom and dad, and that we stand in awe of what we experienced last week. As the church throughout the world prepares to reflect on the suffering, death, and resurrection of Jesus, I can’t help but feel like we just had our own version of Holy Week at Salesianum, filled with shock and grief, sadness and tragedy, courage and gratitude, inspiration and hope.
One of the things that makes Salesianum so special is that feeling that you are part of something bigger than yourself. That no one person is bigger than the S we all wear on our chest, whether you are the principal of the school or the shyest freshman. We are all in this together. And Tyler’s death has reminded us that we all matter.
This week, we lost a brother. It didn’t matter if you were Tyler’s close friend, or if you only knew him as another Salesian in the hallway. We all felt it. And we didn’t run and hide. We didn’t pretend life was normal. We faced the reality of death. We were humbled by the awareness that this could have been any of us. And we came together as never before, we grieved and shed tears, and we found strength in the brotherhood. We refused to leave the side of Tyler's family. In the grief and anguish of Tyler’s mom and dad, we all felt how much a parent loves a child. And the fact that you, as Tyler’s Salesian brothers, were able to share your sadness and grief so openly with them meant more than any of you could know.
Then we took all our sadness, and all our love and loyalty, and all the competitive fire that Salesianum has ever mustered, and we set our minds and hearts on one goal: giving Tyler Brown the best damn funeral anyone has ever seen.
It was a moving tribute to someone who died far too young, but who lived a full life and truly reflected the words, “be who you are and be that well.” Tyler never sought special recognition, but he was a shining example of that Salesian Gentleman and renaissance man we are all called to be. And we not only mourned his death, we celebrated his life. No matter where you sat in the gym, every last one of us mattered and had an important role.
As long as I live, I will never forget some of the moments we shared together this week. How so many of you showed up Saturday and Sunday at the House of Sales. How so many of you came to the viewing on Thursday night and faced the most difficult and terrible reality with Tyler’s parents. How some of your teachers - Mr. Ryan, Mr. Dever, and Mrs. Godfrey - took turns staying in the chapel all night so Tyler would never be alone. As we were reminded this week in our toughest moment, we have the most caring and dedicated teachers and staff anywhere.
Then on Friday, on the most difficult of days, we all stood tall, even if we had to lean on each other like never before. I’ve never felt a mix of grief and pride in the same way. The senior honor guard that lined the hallway. Tyler’s last Direction of Intention in the hallway as the procession stopped at his locker. The gifts that were brought up by Tyler’s Wrestling, Rugby, Model UN, Art Class, and Birkenheuer brothers. The way in which our sister schools stepped up and stood by us in our time of need. The eulogies given by Tyler’s friends and by our president, Mr. Brendan Kennealey, who never left the family’s side from the time we first learned of this tragedy. And Joe Miller, whose moving song after communion gave a voice to the grieving of an entire brotherhood.
Most of all, I will never forget the moment that our seniors, the Class of 2016, through their tears, led us in the alma mater. How all of you throughout the gym locked arms and sang those sacred words that bind us. How the eight senior pall bearers placed their hands on Tyler’s casket so that he would not be alone at that moment. And how every senior touched Tyler’s casket a final time as they formed the final honor guard that would lead Tyler out of Salesianum for the final time. It was the Salesian Brotherhood at its finest hour, broken but stronger than ever. “There is nothing so strong as gentleness, nothing so gentle as real strength.” When we walked out of school into the beautiful sunshine on Broom Street, all I could do as I walked by the seniors was to say “thank you” through my own tears. There were no other words to say.
On the way to the cemetery, the Delaware State Police made sure that Tyler’s final ride home to New Jersey would be a memorable one. Incredibly, they shut down I-95 and the Delaware Memorial Bridge, and rode with us all the way to the tiny, beautiful old cemetery in New Jersey that Tyler’s mom and dad chose as his final resting place. Tyler’s parents told Mr. Kennealey as they rode together in the limo, “Tyler never liked a fuss being made over him, but he would have thought this was pretty cool.” And I think everyone who witnessed it agreed.
There are heads of state who never received a funeral as beautiful and heartfelt as this. But then again, Tyler was better than a king or a president. He was a Salesian brother. And he always will be.
I know we all have many other memories that we will hold in our hearts forever. Someday, you will experience death again, and you will remember what this week taught us: that we are called to go through life’s toughest moments together. In your family, or among your friends, you may be the one who gently keeps everyone together. At those times, remember the words of our patron saint, Francis de Sales: “It is not necessary to always feel strong. It is sufficient to have hope that we will be strong enough at the proper time and place.”
And so, this Holy Week, we are left with a lot to reflect on, and an Easter break that couldn’t come at a better time. At times such as this, our faith is so important. Not because it gives us easy answers, but because it leads us to stand together and a way to express our sadness, our gratitude, and our hope when words fail us. Sadness at having lost a brother. Gratitude for having been a part of Tyler’s life, and for the reality that each day is truly a gift from God. And the hope that Tyler lives on, and that one day we will be reunited with him. For in the face of death, we have experienced that we are not alone. God is with us. And more will be revealed.
Tenui nec dimittam,
Fr. Chris Beretta, OSFS
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