It’s funny how silly little things can happen on any given day that might remind us of Rylie. Sometimes it’s just a song that she loved, or a flavor that she enjoyed, or an outfit she would have liked. It will just be something that pops up and makes one of us think, “Aww… Rylie…”.
Like everyone, Rylie had certain characteristics or quirks that were uniquely hers. Periodically, one of those quirks will pop up in one of us - usually Tanner. We’ll all laugh and joke that “Rylie is haunting us”.
One of the interesting parts about losing someone is that there are so many aspects of loss and grief that are truly just unexplainable. Often, when I sit down to write, I type then erase. Type then erase. Type then erase. Part of that is just the writing process, but a big part of it is just trying to capture the essence of a struggle in words.
This idea of Rylie haunting us is one of those areas where it is a real challenge to find the right words, to be able to explain it in a way that makes sense.
I guess loss and grief somewhat fit into the category of the proverbial onion. There are so many layers to it. You peel one away and find something else. Peel it away and find something else. The loss and grief onion though, seems to be a never-ending onion.
I’m reminded of a science experiment in school where we peeled away layers of the onion to look at the cells. At that point in my life, I’d only really seen the large layers of the onion that fall apart as you chop them. However, for the experiment, we had to peel away the thinnest layer possible - so thin it was like a tiny piece of saran wrap - transparent and it folded in on itself. Perhaps the loss and grief onion is just breaking the onion down to its tiniest layers, which just makes it feel never ending.
Our ‘Rylie haunts’ are just one of the layers of this loss and grief onion. It’s not as if she’s haunting us in a supernatural, spooky movie kind of a way. In fact, it’s almost the opposite. Anytime a ‘Rylie is haunting us’ moment comes up I’m compelled to look more closely at that layer. I’m almost always struck by how those moments really provide us all with a sense of comfort and connection.
In our house, mushrooms have always been a hotly contested topic. I grew up eating mushrooms and loving them. Ziggy grew up surrounded by mushroom lovers, but hating them. Rylie took more after me and came to really like mushrooms, especially as an alternative to steak. Tanner fell more in Ziggy’s camp, although I’m not entirely sure he ever tasted a mushroom before deciding they were disgusting. Needless to say, mushrooms rarely make it into our house.
Sometime after Rylie died, we ordered pizza and by some miracle I got to order my part with mushrooms. It’s a rarity, especially now that my fellow mushroom lover is gone. Tanner decided to try a slice of my pizza that day. We were all prepared to laugh at his reaction to the mushrooms on my pizza complete with quirked up “this is disgusting” facial expressions. Instead, we were met with raised eyebrows and close examination of said pizza, followed by “Wow, this is pretty good with mushrooms on it… Aww, man Rylie, you’re haunting me!”
Rylie was also notorious for eating chocolate chips, really anything chocolate. While Tanner also enjoyed chocolate, it was never at the same level. With Rylie, we’d often comment that she might enjoy a little pancake with her chocolate chips. She would often smother anything that was remotely acceptable with chocolate chips, nutella, or sugar of any kind. Tanner was always more moderate. He enjoyed chocolate chip pancakes or waffles, but there was always clearly pancake or waffle involved. In the last year especially, I’ve found that Tanner’s waffles are disappearing under layers of chocolate chips - which are also accompanied by handfuls of chocolate chips going into his mouth at the same time. Aww, Rylie…
On a recent trip to Washington D.C., I was taken aback by Tanner’s order of Dr. Pepper at lunch. Tanner has always been more of a Coke / Pepsi kind of a guy like his dad. Rylie and I enjoyed Dr. Pepper. When I looked strangely at Tanner after his order, he just shrugged and said, “I guess Rylie is haunting me again. I just have a taste for Dr. Pepper.”
Each time Rylie haunts us, I feel a strange sense of peace. While it’s strange for our tastes to suddenly change or morph into something she loved, there is comfort in feeling her nearby. I’m sure there’s some sort of psycho-analysis that would explain this phenomenon, but I prefer to just take it for the comfort that it is. It is a way for all of us to pause, remember, laugh and feel close to Rylie. Like the onion, it sometimes even brings tears to our eyes.
Meghann and Ziggy Guentensberger are Rylie's parents. During their time in the hospital with Rylie and after her death, they began writing about their experiences. What started as a way to keep people informed of Rylie's condition, turned into a way for them to process all that was happening. After she died on May 26, 2017 they both continued to write as a way to process and heal themselves and occasionally inspire others. These writings are housed on the Rylie's ARK Facebook page.