Travis willed all of his assets to Ryan. His will named his mother as executor. His body was removed to Michigan for funeral and cremation.
Afterward, Bill picked up Travis' white bulldog Goliath, a.k.a. Fat Buddy, and brought him home to Fort Vancouver.
Like Howard Jones Field, Kiggins Bowl, where Travis played high school football, often reverberates with the sounds of the game.
On a recent afternoon, however, it was empty and quiet as Bill Claridge walked its perimeter, conjuring memories, pondering whether there can be any sense to the death of a young loved one, or any comfort for it.
After his divorce from Travis' mother, he had been married for a second time and had another son, named Daniel. When that boy was 18 months old, he and his mother moved to Denmark and Bill lost contact with them.
Five months after Travis' death, his ex-wife from Denmark telephoned. She had just learned of Travis' passing and offered condolences. She also told Bill that Daniel wanted to get to know him.
Bill last had seen Daniel when he put him on a plane to Denmark as a toddler. He next saw him disembark from a plane a 17-year-old. Daniel was 5 feet 8, a miniature version of his father.
"If you saw him on a football field, you'd assume he was the placekicker," Bill said. Daniel, bright and easygoing, stayed with Bill, Teresa and Riley for two weeks. Riley was delighted to find she had an extra brother.
Some things have changed at Kiggins Bowl since Travis' day. The playing field now has an artificial surface.
The patch of natural turf Travis had given Bill to plant in his lawn after that final high school game, however, took root. "Whenever he got out of his truck, he'd stomp on it for good luck," Bill recalled.
Thanks to Travis' watering and fertilizing, the patch has infiltrated Bill's entire yard and is indistinguishable from the grass that was there before.
james.ricci@latimes.com
Afterward, Bill picked up Travis' white bulldog Goliath, a.k.a. Fat Buddy, and brought him home to Fort Vancouver.
Like Howard Jones Field, Kiggins Bowl, where Travis played high school football, often reverberates with the sounds of the game.
On a recent afternoon, however, it was empty and quiet as Bill Claridge walked its perimeter, conjuring memories, pondering whether there can be any sense to the death of a young loved one, or any comfort for it.
After his divorce from Travis' mother, he had been married for a second time and had another son, named Daniel. When that boy was 18 months old, he and his mother moved to Denmark and Bill lost contact with them.
Five months after Travis' death, his ex-wife from Denmark telephoned. She had just learned of Travis' passing and offered condolences. She also told Bill that Daniel wanted to get to know him.
Bill last had seen Daniel when he put him on a plane to Denmark as a toddler. He next saw him disembark from a plane a 17-year-old. Daniel was 5 feet 8, a miniature version of his father.
"If you saw him on a football field, you'd assume he was the placekicker," Bill said. Daniel, bright and easygoing, stayed with Bill, Teresa and Riley for two weeks. Riley was delighted to find she had an extra brother.
Some things have changed at Kiggins Bowl since Travis' day. The playing field now has an artificial surface.
The patch of natural turf Travis had given Bill to plant in his lawn after that final high school game, however, took root. "Whenever he got out of his truck, he'd stomp on it for good luck," Bill recalled.
Thanks to Travis' watering and fertilizing, the patch has infiltrated Bill's entire yard and is indistinguishable from the grass that was there before.
james.ricci@latimes.com
