Tom "sightings"

At the night of Tom's fundraiser a woman came up to me and shared that her dead husband had appeared to her almost two years after he passed. It was very comforting to her. A counselor once told me her grandmother had visited an sat down on the edge of her bed.

My brother Michael had an extended conversation with Tom shortly after he died. And now I received this wonderful story from Jeannie about a Tom sighting her husband Gary experienced.

Dear Theresa,

I hope this note finds you doing well. I wanted to share a little something with you. Gary and I just got back from a vacation to Maui. I have a dear friend who lives there so I went a few days before Gary to have some "girl time." Anyway, Gary had to change planes in Los Angeles and he had a Tom sighting. He said he was waiting for his plane when this guy walked past him and he looked up and was about to say "hey Tom" when he was brought back to reality and knew it couldn't be his friend Tom.

He said it really brought him some special thoughts and memories to see this man that looked just like his friend Tom. We are very intune with this sort of thing since we had our own many moments of Philip sightings after he left this earth.

While Tom may not be here in an earthly form, he remains in our hearts and minds forever. I continue to read your blog and enjoy your thoughts and memories... thank you for continuing to share.

Take care,
Jeanne Hazen

Thank you Jeanne for sharing this story. I look for Tom everywhere. I am so glad he is alive in your memory.

Please send me your Tom sightings & experiences, I would love to hear about them.
Love Theresa

Tom = Music

My auditory memory is pretty good. I can recall the baseboard I was sanding when I heard that one part of the This American Life episode about the kids that made up the family they were babysitting for all summer when the mom almost busts them. I can recall when I first heard the Indigo Girls sing about four years prostrate to the higher mind, got my paper. And I was free.

And I can recall a million conversations with Tom about music. Ok actually I can remember Tom talking. I listened. Especially when he was with Donna and Hugh or Jeffery. They would talk for hours about bands and artists and songs. Tom just shined.

Tom was music to so many people. A comment was posted to this blog by Trey, a man dearly loved. He wrote about Tom drumming on the dashboard of his car. And Tommy sent a link to a new song with lots of Gibson SG time. He wrote it was 4 minutes well-spent. (Yet another example of fine rock and roll played on the mighty Gibson SG... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3_iBKacXIA4).

And I recall Tom sitting in the family room pickin' and strummin' while I fell asleep. Life is so much richer for the music, both literal and figurative, that Tom created.

Tom's new car

Tom and I had an interesting relationship with each other as it pertained to money. Tom set the rules, I fought forever and gave up. Then it worked out fine.

Basically we each handled our own money. We split the bills, saved, invested, and if someone had some extra or was short the other person covered it.

Tom was slow on most things but not on saving and not on buying. Take his car for example. One day he went out and bought a car. He deserved it. His old one was falling apart and he had been driving it for decades. But it cracked me up when he got up one day and said he was going to look at cars and came home with one. I always thought married people did all that together. Now granted, I did not care what he bought, where he bought, or how much it cost. Tom was reasonable. But to this day it cracks me up.

Months later I was without a car. I needed to go buy one. I told Tom we needed to go get me a car. He kindly said to call him if I got in a bind. Then I went and bought my own car.

And to think we did not get married for 7 years because I needed to retain my independence.

Now I still drive his car and look fondly at this six year old picture the dealer gave him with a funny memory. And I know I can go out and buy my own car.

Tom of no fear

My mom was recently diagnosed with colon cancer and with that event, as is totally expected, came her fear and the concern of the family. She checked into the hospital, had a great operation, healed fast, and is home.

But it brought back a lot of my memories. One of them was a reflection on Tom's attitude. In his 20 months after diagnosis, and five tough months at the end, and the final 30 days or so in the hospital Tom rarely complained. When he did it was about making a mistake like forgetting to put on socks, me pushing him to get out and exercise, or plain old not wanting to go to work. He did not complain about being sick. He never asked "Why me?"

But even more so was that he was never afraid. That is not an exaggeration. He was not afraid of the operations, the chemo, the radiation, the changes in his body, or dying. He did not think he would die of brain cancer, but if he was going to, he felt it would all work out in the end. I still don't know what that means.

I tried to divert my fear into manic energy and pretty well succeeded. Tom did not divert. He faced his illness with optimism and honesty and the more time that passes the more I see how unusual and admirable that was.

Watch the rabbit

As you know Tom really loved golfing. He never seemed to golf a lot but he always wanted to and when he did go he had so much fun.

I only went with him a few times (just to find the balls others had lost) but those were always great days. Once we went in Fountain Hills where Nicole lives. The prices there are based on a high socio-economic class population. We, of a more modest budget, could only play in the middle of the day in August when the prices are more reasonable.

We had the place to ourselves, except for a rabbit. Tom was golfing and I was in the gullies looking balls long lost balls, and we saw a rabbit sitting in the shadow of a saguaro cactus.

(I could not find a picture of a cactus with a rabbit but here is a cactus)

The shadow was just wide enough to give the rabbit shade. The rabbit was asleep. Tom continued golfing and as it turned out a few holes later we were near the same cactus. The sun had shifted, moving the shadow with it.

As we watched, the rabbit woke up, looked around, and saw the shadow had moved. She raised her tail, took a little hop to get back aligned in the shadow, and went back to sleep.

For years now I have tried to figure out the lesson to be learned from watching that rabbit. I figured it was about patience, or desire, or universal acceptance or something. Now I think it is about watching the rabbit. That's it. The lesson is to watch the rabbit. In 100 degree heat with the person you love beside you watch the rabbit. It will give you a lump in your throat years later and you will be happy.

Long Way Round

Ross and I met many, many years ago and we have an interesting friendship. We have gone months, and maybe even years without seeing each other. We rarely go out and never do activities together. But I consider him a kind of soul mate in a calm understated sort of way.

Shortly after Tom died I got a package from Ross. He sent me the DVD set of "Long Way Round". He said he thought I would like it. It has 10 episodes of these two guys going around the world on motorcycles. It was an excellent collection and I was working my way through it. After about a year I was at about episode 8 of 10.

Then I started working where Ross works. One day he asked me if I had finished the set. I told him no, and felt real bad about it. I could not explain why I was not done because I really liked the show. Last weekend I committed to watching the last few episodes. As expected I loved them, but about half way through the final show I paused and decided to finish the next day.

As I turned off the TV I thought about this strange behavior. The DVD was captivating. It was not late, I was not tired. Why in the world would I not watch the end?

Laying in bed I decided it was because I did not want it to end. Not so much the program but how I got the program. What I did not want to end was the period of time where people contacted me because Tom was gone. It wasn't the pity or the attention. It really was not about me. It was the constant acknowledgement that our world had experienced a really significant loss.

I got out of bed and finished the show. It was worth it.
The ending messsage was how it had been a wild, life changing ride. I agreed.

Rain Days

Rain Days are rather hard.

Whenever we had rain days (1992 - until 17 months ago or so) Tom and I would talk about playing hookey and laying in bed all day. I was always the get and up and go person but in this case I fully supported the idea. We had movies, ourselves, and a phone to get food and I wanted nothing more than "cuddles," naps, movies, repeat. I would not mind throwing in a happy hour at a dark, dive and maybe an hour or so at Half Price Books adding to the stacks in the house.

Tom on the other hand had a weird work ethic in this regard. He would no more call in "unavailable today" than he could fly. Now don't get me wrong, if either of us was under a deadline or something big was going on then of course I did not advocate staying home. But a few times a year I could certainly support.

But we never did it.

So then I wonder why are Rain Days unsettling. It's not like I miss playing hookey or recalling our illegal days together. I am missing something I never got. How odd is that?

Anyway, just think about taking a Rain Day. Call in unavailable (something came up at home and I can't come in). Drop the kids in day care for half a day, turn off the phone and computers, dim the lights and just hang out with the person you love. Play a game. Have some wine in the middle of the day. Look outside and be so glad you are dry and cozy. I promise the work you missed will be forgotten and the day will stay in your memory for so long. Hey look how long I remembered it and I never even did it!