Kayaker Who Died In Bay Mourned: 'I Wish I Could Hold You Again'

RIVERHEAD, NY — Friday marks six months since Raistlin Ruther, 18, died while kayaking in the Great Peconic Bay — and for those who love him, the months feel like minutes, the reality that he is never going to return with his bright smile and caring heart seemingly impossible to fathom.

Raistlin went kayaking on January 2, launching in South Jamesport into the Great Peconic Bay; Riverhead Police said a report came in that afternoon that he was overdue, and the search began. Several hours later, Raistlin's capsized kayak, The Bay Dream, was located off the shore of Meschutt County Beach in Hampton Bays; his body was found soon after.

On Thursday, the home Raistlin shared with his adoring grandparents, Barbara and Michael Schwarz of Riverhead, was quiet, the walls covered with photos of their smiling, always smiling grandson, photos of Raistlin living the life of a boy who was very, very loved.

In the backyard, the large wooden pirate ship Michael constructed with Raistlin still stands, masts, rope ladder, and sails gone now, but the memories just a heartbeat away. The site where the two built an actual mine remains, as do his punching bags and exercise equipment.

And there, too, in a shed, is Raistlin's kayak, The Bay Dream — the kayak returned to them, without their boy.

"We'll keep it forever," Barbara said.

Upstairs, Raistlin's room bears testament to the love: A blanket adorned with his smiling face, a gift after his death, covers the bed where the pajamas he wore the night before his last day are neatly folded. On the bed, the life jacket he wore faithfully while kayaking is placed carefully. On a table close by, notes for a job interview — and in the corner, a hammock he slept in often, instead of his bed, the hallmark of a young man who found joy in nature.

Raistlin, his grandparents, and his mother Laura Schwarz Gandara agreed, had always had a penchant for pirates — and many photos about the house capture a little boy's glee at pirate-themed parties, costumes, and his very own pirate ship out back.

Raistlin's imagination was vast; from a young age he wanted his own island and created stories and adventures. He buried a time capsule deep in the old mine shaft, and his grandparents say they'll leave it there, just as he left it.

Beyond his love of the outdoors, of water, and hiking and always, the beach, Raistlin loved his family, his mother, his brothers, his grandparents, and his nana, Joan Nockelin.

Wise, with a maturity beyond his years, Raistlin, his grandparents said, was responsible, caring, always willing to help and lend a hand. And he loved to sit and spend hours, just talking, they said.

"When he was with you, he was with you," they said. "He'd never come to the dinner table with a phone."

Eyes filled with tears, Barbara said,"He truly was an angel, from a young age."

Looking around at the projects he and his grandson had built, side by side, Mike added, "He was my best friend."

His compassion extended to all, they said. "He never condemned people," Barbara said. "If someone was the underdog, he was their support. He was an amazing boy."

If they could have one moment to say something to Raistlin, Mike said, tears on his face, "I wish I could hold you again —and never let you go."

"I feel like he's a beautiful butterfly, not here for long," Barbara said.

Describing the day that changed their lives forever, Barbara said Raistlin had set out early. Their custom was that he would call her every two hours, and he did, without fail, she said.

That day, he called his grandmother at 10 a.m. and said he was at Red Cedar Point beach, she said. "He said, 'It's beautiful here,'" she said.

She asked if he was okay and he said he was. Then she told him not to forget to take photos, as he always did, to show her later.

What happened next, Barbara believes, is a sign. She had hung up the phone and was sitting on the couch when she heard the words "I love you," in a clear, sweet voice. "Maybe it was Raistlin. Maybe it was Jesus. Someone knew he wasn't coming home and knew I needed to hear those words."

What happened that day out on the water is unclear, Barbara said. Raistlin was wearing a full wetsuit and had the proper gear, but the extra flotation device was still in the kayak and the button on the marine radio was never pushed. Police have suggested he tried to save his kayak; some have said maybe he panicked after encountering something that tipped his kayak and filled it with water.

The answers will remain forever unclear, except for one certainty, Barbara believes: "God took him."

And it is a reality she and her husband, who both have strong faith, have difficulty accepting. "He was going to be wonderful," Barbara said. "He was wonderful. It would be better if he were here on earth, helping people."

Mike, showing a photo of his grandson as a child, cupping his face, said, "He was an amazing boy."

Raistlin, they said, loved to cook — and eat, especially Italian sausage and pizza— he loved the Montauk Lighthouse, and he loved the younger children in the family.

His absence in the home is palpable; there is an air of expectancy that covers the rooms, the feeling that at any moment, Raistlin will come bounding in. Even the family's dog GG searched for him after he died, putting her face up to his photo and barking. Not understanding, wondering why.

"I can't believe it's been six months," Barbara said. "It feels like he just walked out the door."

Mike and Barbara built a picnic table that sits now at the beach in South Jamesport, a spot to savor the view of the sparkling bay Raistlin loved so much. On Thursday, young children sat at the bench, near the carved stone Michael placed nearby, surrounded by shells and flowers.

It was the perfect beach day Thursday, a day Raistlin would have surely been out on the water.

But at his grandparent's Riverhead home, his room was empty, the clothes still in drawers, the toolbox his grandfather gave him neatly waiting.

"He was a good boy," Mike said. "He loved us so much. And he knows how much we loved him."

Telling stories about the boy they called "Raisty," their faces were lined with grief as memories brought wistful smiles. Raistlin, they said, loved to sleep outside, enjoyed campfires, and wanted his tea brewed for exactly 16 minutes. He has a passion for history, the military — even considering a career in the Navy — and dock building.

He liked to look polished, wearing a suit to school. And when he graduated Riverhead High School in 2020, during the pandemic, he won the "Best Dressed" honor in the yearbook. He played piano and the ukelele.

And it is through music that Barbara said she got another sign. On her birthday, February 15, she and her husband were at the beach, near the picnic table, with the stone carved for Raistlin; he used to park there every day, because it is such a quiet spot.

"All of a sudden, we heard music," Barbara said. "About 30 feet or so off in the water was a white trumpet swan. And my husband said, 'The trumpet swan is singing to you.'" It was the first time she'd ever heard a trumpet swan sing. And a sign, she believes, from her Raistlin.

Raistlin's mother Laura spoke of her son from California, where she lives. Raistlin had moved to the West Coast with her and his young brothers last October but moved back because he missed Riverhead, she said.

"He was nothing like an 18-year old," she said. "He was very, very considerate. He was a planner. He took finances very seriously." Her son, who worked at Agway, was always early, always organized, and lived minimally, she said.

When he moved back to Riverhead in October, Laura said, her voice filled with tears, "That was the last time I saw him."

Both she and her son, she said, loved nature, hiking, and "definitely the beach." Her son, who loved food, was also very disciplined. They had a running joke about cannolis: He could take one bite and put the rest in the refrigerator, but she'd always eat it, she laughed.

Memories brought tears of unthinkable loss.

"It's just really unbelievable," she said. "He was just the perfect person."

Her son, she said, was mature beyond his years, loved listening to stories told by the elderly, and knew what he wanted.

She tried to challenge him, she said, encouraging him to take trigonometry and play the bass and piano.

Raistlin was also a proud ROTC member, and even the neighbors would comment on him, walking down the street in his uniform, his family said.

"I'm always impressed that he was mine," Laura said. "He was everything. I knew how special he was."

They both took the time to enjoy life, she said; she nurtured his dreams, including pirate birthday parties and sailing lessons at the Mattituck Yacht Club.

Although her son is gone, Laura said she talks to him every day. Asked what her son taught her about life, she said, "Pretty much everything. He was just the person you always wanted to take with you if you need extra courage or support. He'd make you laugh or say the right thing."

So many dreams were left unrealized, Laura said. She and her son had planned to go to the Grand Canyon this month; now, she does not know if she can face that trip without him.

A GoFundMe page, "Raistlin Ruther Memorial," was created by Raistlin's aunt Carissa Sexton, with the funds raised used for scholarships. "To lose someone like him is so difficult to accept. He was your gentle giant, an old man's soul. I always told him how much I admired his maturity, independence, and adventurous spirit. When Raistlin left us, a little piece of us all left with him," she wrote.

A memorial service will be held for Raistlin in Hampton Bays on July 30 at U.S. Coast Guard Station Shinnecock, Barbara said – on the water, where Raistlin found his inspiration for beautiful videos, photography, and TikToks.

"He's been out on the water since he could probably walk," she said. "He was not materialistic. He loved the bay."

Her grandson was always offering support and advice even to those older, with his trademark words: "You got this."

And it's that life force, that caring heart, that big smile, that make life without him seem surreal, his grandparents said.

From the moment Raistlin didn't call, when he said he would, on that dark day, Barbara said, "I knew he wasn't coming home."

And despite the months and hours and minutes, the weight of grief still colors everything, she said. "I don't want anyone to know what this feels like. You lose your parents, older aunts and uncles, and it's hard but this is not even describable. It's been six months and it doesn't get better."

But remembering that morning, when she heard the words "I love you," as clear as day, Barbara said: "I believe that was meant for me, telling me that he loves me so much. . . I do believe we all have a spirit, that lives on."