Our six-year old granddaughter, Ella, fell off the dock into an oozy, stinky, gooey patch of muck at an inland lake last week. Remaining upright, but sinking in to her thighs, made for an easy retrieval. But her sandals didn’t come out with her. So, I laid on the dock, stuck my arms into that muck, and dug and dug. After ten minutes, the result was pulling out only one; the other was enveloped into parts unknown. Only one remains.
Somewhat like death. When a loved one dies, it is as if they pass away and try as one might, there is no way to pull them back to life. Yet something remains.
Our son Paul died suddenly on July 31. Paul was 40, had Down Syndrome, and lived with us all 40 years. He shaped us in ways so different from the ways our other children did. His passing was so quick and there was nothing we or the physicians could do. He was gone. Yet Paul remains with us.
That which remains is more than memories, although the cliché given in sympathy bears some truth. He shaped Barb and me, our marriage, our other children, our outlook on life, our decisions, and most of all, our faith.
Paul was the second child born to us, just 20 months or so after our first born, Katie. As we gathered as a family, Katie has spoken of being Paul’s protector – when other children made fun of him, when friends carried their fear and uncertainty about disability into our home, and in the chaos of family life.
What remains? The shaping influence Paul had on Katie’s life: caring, protecting, helping.
Two years after Paul was born, we were surprised to learn we were pregnant again, this time with Becca. With Paul’s developmental delays, they met developmental milestones at roughly the same times. Becca has said she felt like Paul was her twin. Ask any twin how the other is part of them, in their thoughts, actions, and attitudes.
What remains? Becca has talked about Paul being so close to her that she felt his death ripped out a piece of her, but she remains with Paul always a part of her.
As life continued, our family grew by the birth of Jessica and three more adopted siblings from Ethiopia: Yaineabeba, Getenet, and Fekadu.
Jessica noted how Paul both centered our family, and yet his influence went well beyond. “Paul wasn’t just my only biological brother with Down’s Syndrome, he was the crowning jewel and beating heart of my family. Anyone that met him became a better person for it—Paul was talented like that.”
What remains? A bunch of folks including more than 400 Facebook users who commented, with so many describing the ways Paul shaped them.
Our adopted kids were a bit older when they joined our family, so they had experienced Ethiopian culture where the birth of a disabled child resulted in shame, questions about who had sinned, and life hidden at home with no opportunities. Getenet asked more than once whether it was true that Paul had Down Syndrome, because his working, writing, reading, fully engaged brother was unlike any other disabled person he had ever met. In response, Getenet founded a Christian special education school in Addis Ababa.
What remains? A school that now is leading government schools in opening their doors to special education students and most recently reaching 500 kilometers to the south where eight sets of parents of a local Christian school have asked us to lead the inclusion of their special needs children in the school there.
Death only completes this earthly life. The image of God that forms and shapes each one of us is God’s indelible mark on our lives. It is never erased. And when our memories will inevitably grow dim, we need to look only to what has remained. . . in our case, the ways in which Paul shaped us and so many others. The light he brought to the world has not been extinguished.
23 Responses
I suspect that Providence is more how God gathers what happens. Like with Paul Timmermans, may his memorybe blessed, and may he rise in glory.
Steve, Barb, and family, I’m shocked and saddened to learn of Paul’s passing. When I first met him, he was running across a room to give Batb Newman a big hug. Thank you so much for this beautiful reflection on his life. It’s an Eph 2:10 story: “For we are God’s masterpiece. He has created us anew in Christ Jesus, so we can do the good things he planned for us long ago.”
Amen! Amen! Yes, Ephesians 2:10, a living out Christ’s living within.
Thank you for sharing this, Steve. Even in your deep grief you see the hand of God weaving a beautiful thread of hope and compassion through the holy chaos (and joy) that a big family brings. Digging in the muck is where we often find ourselves, isn’t it? To see Paul’s light shine brightly in new educational opportunities in Ethiopia today- what a blessing. Praying for God’s peace and comfort for you and your family.
By his Spirit, Steve, our Lord has used your reflections about your dear son to enhance within me “the image of God,…God’s indelible mark on [my life.]”
Blessings as you grieve and celebrate all that Paul was in life. You write so well so quickly after Paul’s death. It is a gift to us all. Thank you.
Thank you Steve!
In life and in death, God has truly made much good from Paul’s sojourn.
My wish is that Christians could come to see that the “givenness” of LGBT folks (beyond the “normal/natural”) can lead to “good” outcomes, not shameful ones.
Steve, Barb and family,
We are so sorry for your loss but so grateful for this beautiful, wise, reassuring reflection. Thank you for writing and sharing it with all of us.
Thank you for this reflection on Paul’s death, Steve. We are part of that developmentally disabled community as parents to Karen, who worked for 26 years at Calvin food service until her job was terminated in 2025. We join you in the reality of how our special kids truly shape our families in God-shaped ways. May you grieve well in the sure hope of the resurrection.
Steve
Thank you for sharing this beautiful tribute to your beloved son Paul and also for sharing how many lives he touched directly and indirectly. God’s peace as you, Barb, and your family continue to celebrate his life and mourn his passing.
Lovely, Steve (and Barb & Family). Lovely, fully honest reflection of your lives with Paul and Paul’s with all of you. In God’s odd Grace, because and as we read this, we are all part of what Paul built for many—“left behind” and part of the “already, but not yet…” Thanks so much.
What a wonderful tribute to Paul and to your family who, as a circle, loved, appreciated, and promoted each other. May God take care of the holes in your hearts and may good memories give you joy.
Beautifully written on a life so beautifully lived. Saint Paul indeed lives on in our own lives, too. Thank you, Steve, for this wonderful telling.
Thanks, Steve!! Recently I came across a statement about aging, to the effect that “our greatest legacy is not what we own, but the lives we have touched simply by being there.” This is also — and especially — true of Paul’s brief 40 years. Although I did not know Paul, your loving testimony blessed my heart and prompted tears of thanks! Al
You are greatly blessed to be able to see so much of “what remains.” For me, and perhaps for most of us, what remains is also present and a blessing, but not so visible unless we really stop to investigate and to think about it. Your essay encouraged me to do that.
Thank you for sharing . Your experience resonates through my entire body. My wife, Esther and I with extended family had joyfully celebrated my son Rick’s second birthday by eating a traditional Sunday dinner. Two days later Tuesday, he died due to a farm accident which I felt totally responsible for. God instilled in me, Lord’s Day 10; ……since all creatures are so in His hand that without His will they cannot so much as move. Two weeks later God predestined that Esther and I would hold in our arms Shari, Rick’s new born sister. Although Rick would be 46 years old today, we observing similar aged cousins, continue to asks ” What is yet to remain”?
Thanks for this wonderful reflection of how Paul’s life affected so many others. Prayers for all of you as you grief his loss.
Steven, years ago our congregation participated in the Friendship program, a Christian Reformed Church ministry to persons with developmental disabilities. Through that ministry I got to know a young man I later spent a good bit of time with, getting to know him individually and at his group home. Through this connection, I discovered the young man’s uniqueness and as a child of God.
My experience with him led me to create Adam, the main character in my novel Heron River, a young man with a developmental disability. It was a challenge to portray him as a fully rounded and complex character.
This was a beautiful word for me today; thank you for sharing your stories and for this reflection. Tomorrow is my Dad’s birthday; he would have been 88. We just lost him this year, on New Year’s Day. But so much remains! Thank you.
Thanks for sharing the amazing ways that Paul touched so many lives! He certainly was a blessing to people at First Church!
Steve, I had not heard about Paul’s death until reading your remarkable reflection on how he has shaped the world of your family and beyond. My sympathies to all of you. I think to some degree all of us influence each other in ways we don’t necessarily recognize. People with disabilities make impressions that are more noticeable to us, and occasionally someone’s influence is particularly wide reaching. That was the case with Paul. It am grateful to have met Paul at our occasional lunch gatherings at Trinity’s cafe years ago. The Lord be with you.
Thank you for helping us love and remember Paul with you. Keep talking about him, telling his stories, acknowledthis influence. The scariest thing about losing a child is that you will forget important details. But you will not. He lives in your heart and home. God bless and embrace you all as you learn to live without him fully present.
Beautiful article. Condolences on the death of your beloved son. May God continue to bless your path going forward as you honor his memory.