Cypress James Miller

A boy and his fox

Naturally, easily and without effort.

He had his first car ride, first walk outside, touched his first flower and fern.

First foods (he liked mangos, yogurt and teething biscuits), first smiles and first word (it was “num”). He was a cultivator of firsts and used them as a stepping stone for learning new things. Cypress’ first roll onto his tummy turned into his first scoot across the floor. His first book turned into a love of being read to, especially Where The Wild Things Are. And his first friend, his beloved fox, turned into a life long love of wilderness creatures (although they were only met through books, stuffed animals, banners or mobiles).

In a situation like this, it would be all too easy to sit here and document all of the things Cypress will never be able to do. Things that you and I take for granted. The passage of time, a luxury that most people will grumble and complain about, will never happen for him. In our long lives, we will have laughed and sobbed, experienced joyous moments and ones filled with great fear. We will have felt the deepest of loves and with that the deepest of sorrow. As with everything related to long periods of time, we will have had the opportunity to feel waves of happiness crash with waves of despair.

Cypress had an open heart.

As the youngest member of a family that was often shy and reserved, the ease at which he was innately able to connect with others always amazed me. My mind is filled with stories where Cypress intensely listened to other people speak, even when he was 5 months old. He loved to observe and when his gaze met yours, you felt like a light was shining on you. When he offered you a smile or a giggle, life seemed to be easier. A lot of people will say, “it takes a village [to raise children]” and I never truly understood that until Cypress found his village - his community. Cypress’ open heart was a love letter to his community of providers, teachers, friends and family.

Cypress’ papa was known as the “boy with the better idea” growing up.

He could always figure out a better way to accomplish a task or adapt to any situation. When I think of Cypress, I believe he too was a “boy with a better idea.” When graft vs host disease inflamed the skin on his hands and swelled them, Cypress had a hard time grabbing or pushing on his toys (which, as you can imagine, was incredibly frustrating). But I never saw the frustration in him.

While Foxy proved his faithful companion, music filled Cypress’ life.

Whether it was someone singing to him or playing musical instruments, Cypress felt music in the depths of his soul.

There was a beautiful group of musicians that would often come to the hem/onc floor to play music for and with kids.

Two months after we were admitted, Cypress’ favorite musician brought him two tiny, real maracas. I think most babies like maracas, but with Cypress the relationship to them was different. He loved to shake them to music, especially when wandering minstrels on the floor came to his door to play. He’d take his maracas out on his walks around the floor. They’d be an item that he’d reach for first in the morning.

Up until that point, Cypress never really watched TV but he’d need to be still during hemodialysis.

So following the nurse’s suggestion, we put on Coco for the first time. I’ll never forget watching him absolutely engrossed, shaking his maraca with the music. Coco became a daily feature in our household. Cypress would watch with such intensity and love whenever the characters were singing. Eventually, even the lullaby I’d sang to him since the moment he was born became second fiddle to singing him “Remember Me” from Coco.

We were gifted a tiny piano with rainbow keys and lights for Christmas.

It was Cypress’ first big musical instrument, and it was love at first duck quack (the piano could have an as expected octave as well as a duck or cow one). When Cypress was struggling with his upper airway and was on bipap, he still wanted to play his piano. He would even fall asleep reaching out for it during PT, working so hard to touch the keys.

We did a lot of American Sign Language with Cypress as a way for him to stay connected with his big brother.

As a very visual person, Cypress also enjoyed any song that had accompanied signs. I’d have to say his absolute favorite was the ABCs. There was something in particular about the way that J and K flowed into each other that always made Cypress laugh. He could watch with such fierce attention whenever I sang and signed. Cypress true first word was the ASL sign for the letter F. I think it came from loving the sign for “fox” which is the letter F wiggled in front of your nose.