In memory of Tristan Thorsteinsson

On April 29 we lost my brother Tristan to a series of events that we do not yet understand. He has left behind his two children Arya and Malik. In all our grief, we cannot possibly know what they have lost. It is our hope that with these funds, his children will have an opportunity to get an education. They will receive them when they become of age. I wrote this in his memory.

Tris had such a way to enter a room. His headphones blaring Mac miller, cigarette hanging out of his mouth, the ice in his drink jingling; like he always took the whole party with him. He’d say, “Brit. Brit. Stop whatever crap you’re doing. You’ve gotta listen to this”.

He was a light to every soul and creature that crossed his path. There was no life too small for his love. Never was anyone too far gone to him. He always believed in everyone else more than himself and gave everything he had to anyone who needed it. I have never met anyone so unique as he was. He was a talented artist, devoted father, loving son, brother, and friend. All who met him saw his potential and tried to help him realize it. What many didn’t know is just how beautiful he was already.

He would wear the dirtiest, holiest, most tattered paint covered thing he could find every day. I think he was trying to teach us all to look past the surface layer. He never valued material things. I can hear him scolding Malik to stop caring about what he wears. The way he did things was his own— but despite how he seemed; he was incredibly thoughtful.

He never did anything because you were supposed to. He taught us all to do less of that. He never dressed or acted the way people wanted him to. The goodness he shared and gave to all those around him he did when no one was looking. He valued humanity and family. He lived by a strict moral code. If he ever got upset with you, he was always quick to apologize.

What he gave to everyone around him is difficult to quantify by any normal standard. He had a great ability to see the best in everyone, even those that most people strained to see. He could make you laugh in the absolute depths of despair. I know he would find a way to do that for all of us now. He is truly irreplaceable. Some say that those with such bright light aren’t meant to burn as long. I guess that was true for him.

He raised his children with all the energy and goodness anyone could have. He believed that the words we use or the anger we express was part of love. He refused to cater to social norms that involved the lack of swearing. But his children bear his coat of arms. They are kind, big hearted, nurturing souls just like he was. He was trying to teach us all to stop looking at what everyone is pointing to— and look at what is underneath. This is what Tris always was in my eyes and what he always will be.