Andrew Left An Everlasting Impression

The photograph goes straight to the heart.

There is Andrew Rypien in a catcher’s crouch - wearing chest protector and mask - with a finger down, calling for the fastball that will never come.

The image is bittersweet, speaking vividly of what Andrew might have been, and what he was.

Andrew Rypien died in August at the age of 3. To listen to his dad is to understand that having him for just a little while was more than a privilege.

It’s a reason to carry on.

So last week there was Andrew’s father, Mark Rypien, striding into a Spokane Valley restaurant, slapping backs and shaking hands with the generosity of spirit that to him comes so natural.

The former Super Bowl MVP was at Players & Spectators, getting on with life, saying hi to an old friend, racer Chad Little, and supporting Little’s favorite local charity.

How do you act when the light of your life goes out?

It’s hard to talk about it.

It’s harder not to.

Christmas without their son was a difficult one for Rypien and his wife, Annette, and their two daughters.

“There are days when we look at each other and wonder, ‘What are we doing this for?”’ Rypien said. “Then Ambre and Angie come running down the stairs and you know you’ve got to move on. It’s hard. Not a day goes by that we don’t give special thanks for the memories we do have.”

During this holiday season - his first in 13 years with extended time at home, Rypien finds himself outside of football. Beyond it, really.

To fill the void he has wondered, what would Andrew want?

Well, for one thing, at this time of the season, lights. Christmas lights.

So Rypien strung lights, strands and strands of lights. His Post Falls home is lit up like, like …

“Like Clark W. Griswold’s,” Rypien said with a laugh, referring to the buffoonish hero of holiday mayhem in the movie “Christmas Vacation.”

Annette and the girls hung the interior lights. The place is festive.

It’s what Andrew would want.

If there’s a theme to the coping mechanism that kicked in somewhere in the wake of his passing, it might lie in the probing of that one question.

What would Andrew want?

Somewhere on the little boy’s list might be the wish that the years denied him here be spent wisely by those he left behind.

Rypien had time enough with his son to ever remain the proud father.

“Andrew did things (at 2 and 3) that 4- and 5-year-old kids do,” he said. “He was so athletic, and always so healthy. When all this happened it was hard to understand. We never asked why, just how we could help, but it was hard to understand.”

That’s why the photograph of the little catcher, snapped by a neighbor and enlarged, is special. There is the strong hint of the athlete to come. The promise. The face that will always be fresh.

“Holiday season is as difficult as it comes but we still have Ambre and Angie, who you see running around here,” Rypien said, as his daughters romped with Chad and Donna Little’s 19-month-old son, Jesse. “For the past year and a half they’ve been kind of placed on the back burner while our attention has been focused on Andrew. They’ve never complained.

“Kind of in honor of Andrew and the girls we’ve said, ‘Hey, we’ve got great memories. We have a lot of lasting things that will be with us forever.’ It doesn’t mean we don’t hurt any more, or any less, but we’re going to try and make this Christmas special.”

Family gatherings, where the little ones play, are still painful.

“Andrew was a link to my brothers’ and sister’s youngest boys,” Rypien said. “Things happen, like birthday parties, and we’re not there. They’re understanding. They know how we feel, that somebody who should be there isn’t there.”

There is somebody, Rypien stresses, at home, sharing the grief.

“He was a mamma’s boy,” he said. “Mom, Annette, was his best friend. He was always on her hip. That’s the emptiness she feels. Deep down inside, that’s pulling at you, tugging at you, killing you.”

Rypien’s life is an incredible contrast of unimaginable highs and lows. There is his unforgettable afternoon in the sunshine as Most Valuable Player of Super Bowl XXVI. Two Pro Bowl seasons, 1989 and ‘91. Two Super Bowl rings. The three children.

There is the death of a child and the issue of his wife’s health, which never seems to stray far from his thoughts.

Last week, he asked his girls what they thought about his going back to work.

“They’d love to see dad come back and play,” Rypien said. “There’s work out there.”

The prevailing wisdom with quarterbacks is don’t trust anyone under 30. This is the year of the senior. Dan Marino lights it up on Monday night. Randall Cunningham comes out of retirement with an MVP year. Chris Chandler leads the rebirth of the Atlanta Falcons.

Rypien at 36 would like to join the re-generation. But where?

Washington. Seattle. San Diego. Atlanta. Those are “appealing situations I’d be comfortable in,” Rypien said.

“I don’t know if that means helping a guy (Ryan Leaf) who has a lot of talent grow in San Diego - who maybe needs a little kick in the rear - or whether it’s sitting behind another kid somewhere else. I don’t want to play just to have a job. I’d like to help a young player but if things weren’t going well I’d like to be on a team that can perform. I want to win.”

So with wear and tear on his body minimal of late, Rypien is about to hang the Work Wanted sign out.

“I’ve got to get myself into physical football condition, but from a health standpoint the last four or five years I haven’t started but 15-16 games,” he said.

A comeback might satisfy any future regrets. And wherever he goes, the memory of the little boy in catcher’s gear goes with him.

“We wouldn’t give up ‘til the last day,” Rypien said. “No parent would. But when a doctor tells you things are pretty close, that we could keep him going for four, five, six more months, in and out of the hospital, you have to ask yourself, when do you let Andrew be Andrew?

“Of all the scenarios that the oncologist gave us about how he could go, the one that happened was the most unlikely.”

And the most welcomed.

“It was one where he’d go in his sleep,” Rypien said, “lying between Annette and I. You pray for a lot of things. The ultimate prayer wasn’t answered but other ones were.”

Like the ones for love and dignity and finally peace.

As the New Year approaches, when Mark Rypien would be no different than anyone else for asking why, he holds on to a thought that’s more of an inspiration than a question.

What would Andrew want?