Posted by Barbara Sweeney-Solmonson on October 24, 2015:

I had the honor and privilege of being Tim's older (and only) sister. I still have not fully processed that Tim is gone. He gave so much during his all-too-short life, and he had so much more to give. I remember when Tim was a little boy, he swallowed some of our mom's diet pills and was talking a mile a minute. (The doctor told mom to just keep him as quiet as possible. Impossible!) The pills never seemed to have worn off and Tim just kept on talking... My mom and I went to see Tim at West Point on a spring break. The weather was bleak and cold, and Tim commented he could not believe I wore a gray coat. Everything from the Hudson River to the buildings was gray. (Although I am rather certain I was actually a bright spot there!) I still have all of his letters from West Point which chronicled his ups and downs. The 'ups' consisted of learning to sleep in class with his eyes open and not getting caught, as well as sleeping on his books in his room to appear he had been studying when upperclassmen dropped in to 'check' on him. The 'downs' consisted of 'walking the area' probably due to him expressing his unsolicited opinions, and other occasions including having to eat a whole platter of beets in the dining hall when he absolutely despised them. Ditto for green beans.) Tim showed amazing strength and courage, and maintained his keen and unwavering sense of humor until the end. Two days before his passing, his wife, Pam, asked the rest of us in Tim's hospital room whether she should "put Tim down," meaning putting the top of Tim's bed down so he could rest. Tim stated, in a very clear voice, "Would you like to retrace that statement?" Thise were the last words I heard him speak. God bless you, baby brother. I love you and miss you. Mom and Dad have you now. I know you will keep them and the angels laughing. Sis

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