This year, we’re giving thanks to our daughter’s Grandpa Tim
A columnist pays tribute to his stepdad, who recently passed away
Thanksgiving is a cherished family holiday, and this year, we have so much good news to celebrate and be thankful for. However, in late October, we learned the sad news that our daughter’s grandpa had passed away.
Tim Hergenroether was a proud U.S. Marine who served his country for more than 20 years. But I’ve no doubt that he was even prouder of being a caring grandfather to our daughter, Rylae-Ann.
When my wife, Judy, and I learned that Rylae-Ann had a life-threatening rare disease called aromatic l-amino acid decarboxylase (AADC) deficiency, we cut off communication with the world. We were left sharing this devastating news with just the family members we felt close to. Tim was one of those people.
Rylae-Ann’s grandfather
Even before “Mr. Red,” as I called him at the time, officially became my stepdad, he was a father figure to me, going back to our days together in Okinawa, Japan. Tim had a gift for balancing the tough with the tender; he’d bark out a command about honor or courage, then pull you in for a cologne-soaked hug, sealing the lesson with love. Tim believed in integrity and courage and made sure we did, too.
Our family meals together were more than just dinners; they were traditions. Everyone had a hand in preparing, cooking, setting the table, and cleaning up. During those times, we discussed the news, laughed about the time I helped him clean his bandages after shoulder surgery, and listened to stories about his travels. Tim would open every meal with a heartfelt prayer. We always found ourselves looking forward to his steady, reassuring words.
Rylae-Ann’s parents took her to Florida to be baptized, where her grandmother and grandfather also attended as godparents. (Courtesy of Richard E. Poulin III)
I’ll never forget his airport welcomes. Every time Judy, Rylae-Ann, and I flew to Florida after a long journey across the Pacific, there he was, waiting at the gate with open arms. He’d greet us with kisses and help with our bags, and when it was time to leave, he’d walk us as far as security allowed, fighting back tears as we said goodbye.
Tim had a playful side, too. One of his favorite pranks was a long-running, cross-state competition involving a random rock found in the Arizona desert. That rock somehow always found its way into our bags, drawers, or suitcases, popping up in the most unexpected places and keeping us all laughing.
Then there was his “close second” Thanksgiving stuffing — a true family legend. Every year, there was a heated debate about whether it was as good as Mom’s, and Tim took every round of playful banter with a grin.
We shared many late nights playing mahjong, backgammon, and canasta. Even if he lost, he’d stifle any frustration and laugh it off, always saying he was just warming up for the next game. And of course, there was his wardrobe of cheeky T-shirts that could raise eyebrows a mile away. He wore each one proudly, much to Judy’s amusement and occasional embarrassment.
Although distance often separated us, Tim never let it feel that way. He was always just a video call away or sending a card by snail mail to remind us how proud he was. He joined many hospital visits by video, sent long, eloquent letters of encouragement, and even recorded playful audiobooks for Rylae-Ann, letting her know Grandpa was thinking of her. Every gesture was his way of saying, “I’m here, and I love you.”
Without hesitation, Tim traveled to be with us in our hardest times — from the bustling streets of Bangkok to the sweltering heat of Singapore, and even to the farthest tip of Taiwan. He wore a blue bracelet every day, symbolizing his unwavering support for our family’s journey. That bracelet was a quiet but powerful reminder of his commitment and faith in us through every dark moment.
Grandpa Tim traveled to Taiwan to attend one of Rylae-Ann’s follow-up hospital visits. (Courtesy of Richard E. Poulin III)
Soon, I’ll be back in Florida, and it’s heartbreaking to realize we won’t have our backyard barbecues with his prized grill and famous rib sauce. There won’t be any more afternoons tending the church garden together or watching sitcoms on the living room sofa for the hundredth time. But those memories are seared into our hearts, and they’ll keep his spirit with us at every dinner, during every car ride when the radio plays a country song, and on every walk when we stop to enjoy the outdoors.
Tim taught us that life’s jar of marbles isn’t guaranteed, and we never know how many are left. But I know one thing: If I can be even a fraction of the husband, father, and grandfather that Tim Hergenroether was, I’ll be honoring his legacy well.
Note: AADC News is strictly a news and information website about the disease. It does not provide medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. This content is not intended to be a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. Always seek the advice of your physician or other qualified health provider with any questions you may have regarding a medical condition. Never disregard professional medical advice or delay in seeking it because of something you have read on this website. The opinions expressed in this column are not those of AADC News or its parent company, Bionews, and are intended to spark discussion about issues pertaining to aromatic l-amino acid decarboxylase deficiency.
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