Tom

Along with many, many others, I lost a friend Monday after an especially challenging fight with cancer. As I understand it, over two years ago, he went to the doctors to get over a persistent cough and was given a diagnosis of stage four lung cancer. So certainly, the deck was stacked pretty hard against him right out of the gate.

You would never know it with Tom. During the intermittent two years, any time I was talking to him, he really was not talking about his challenges unless someone asked him about it. He was pretty much interested in living his life, learning and experiencing new things, and doing what he could to get over his hurdles. And "doing what he could" for a while involved flying to Boston for a twice-weekly experimental protocol, staying there for three or four days as necessary, and flying home. And while there - he explored Boston, checked out a music store, took in a game at Fenway. Life went on.

My most notable shared experience with Tom over the past two or three years has been our participation in a band at church. Tom played guitar very well, and could be seen offering suggestions for fingering to others in the band from time to time, always learning how to make a good sounding song better.

Lately, he had taken to charging into a twelve-bar blues improv during that period of the service when the pastor has everyone getting up to say hi to those in the neighboring pews. He'd start it out, look over at the rest of us, and smile as I picked up the thread on keys, while the bass and drums fell in. It was golden.

Tom's faith in God was unshakable, as far as I could tell. The way he handled his last couple of years, with their ups and downs, CAT scans and chemo regimens, was exemplary; an amazing witness. He seemed to face each new twist and turn as just another experience along the journey. In two-plus years, I never heard Tom complain or assume the "why me?" posture - even though I, along with what I suspect were many others, were doubtless pondering "Why Tom?"

Tom seemed, to me, to have a signature introduction: "Good to see you." That sounds like a standard salutation that anyone may slip in, almost mechanically, without really meaning much except to say "hello". But Tom backed it up with solid eye contact and a ready smile; he meant it. And in return, it was always good to see Tom. There was a period where we three older guys in the band, Tom, Dale, and myself, would sit around after a Thursday night practice and chew the fat, talk about music, whatever was going on in our lives, or what our far-flung kids were up to, and just enjoy the quiet conversation after ninety minutes of working on our "joyful noise". Those were special times for me.

I have nothing but good memories of Tom - and I respect and admire his wife and three sons who are all good friends of my son's (and of ours). A goodly portion of our town has been praying for Tom, and indeed that radiant prayer has been turned toward the family in their time of grief. And I am sure that Tom is doing fine now, reuniting with people he had lost and greeting them with a boisterous "Good to see you!"