Eulogy For George Bailey

And so Tom's funeral was yesterday. An absolutely astonishing experience to see a church overflowing into the aisles with such a variety of people: Buttoned-down businessman and ladies from his professional career. Long-haired dreadlocked musicians that he's played with over the years. Leather-clad biker friends that he made when DC3 regularly performed at the biker bar down by the beach. Courageous recovering drug addicts in which Tom helped sponsor (himself a former addict), the members of his church community, and all the people and friends whom he helped to find homes. Including Joe and me. The ones that took him over 4 years to help. And not once, never once did he come close to losing his patience with us.

That's how Tom was. The only thing that was ever on that man's mind was helping people. That, and music. The sheer volume and variety of people who loved him in this town... it truly blew me away. Sometimes you really don't see a person that you think you know completely until you've seen all the people that they've touched over the years all together in one room like that. Their physical presence are like the building blocks to the essence of an intangible man.

And yesterday was the first time I finally cried. I cried for Tom, and even more so for my grandmother. I don't think my body was going to let me get away with keeping it all in another day longer. I let that first single tear slip down my cheek, around my chin, down my throat and over my collarbone, trickle softly between my bosom, across my belly and then down deep into my naval. What a strange sensation. What an incredible relief.

This body, this mind. It's just so tired. I'm so tired right now.