In Memory of My Tom

     My Tom, husband, lover, best friend, and the one and only true love of my life, passed away in June and I have been in the process of grieving, moving from the country to the city, settling in and trying to find my place in life, alone when I've always been part of a pair. This tribute to "My Tom" will have to serve as an update to my pages for now


Tom S Vance
March 20, 1928 - June 15, 2002

     This big smile was his trademark. The words I heard the most about him at his wake and memorial were honesty, loyalty, integrity, and trustworthy. To quote one of his friends, "he was honesty and loyalty personified". He wore this big smile, in spite of all his suffering, right up to the end when he said to me as I tiptoed into the room to check on him, "Hello Kid, I love you" and then he went to sleep. May he rest in eternal peace.
God watched as you suffered,
And knew you had your share;
He gently closed your weary eyes.
And took you in his care.
Your memory is our keepsake,
With that we'll never part;
God has you in his keeping,
We have you in our hearts.
In tears we saw you sinking,
We watched you fade away;
Our hearts were sadly broken,
As you fought so hard to stay.
But when we saw you sleeping,
So peacefully from your pain,
We just can't wish you back,
To suffer like that again.
Our hearts will ache with sadness,
Our secret tears will flow;
What it means to lose you,
Only we will ever know.
Each time we look at your picture,
You seem to smile and say:
Don't cry, I'm only sleeping,
Until we meet again someday.
God saw you getting tired,
And a cure was not to be,
So he put his arms around you and whispered,
Come with me.
Your golden heart stopped eating,
As God laid you down to rest;
He broke our hearts to prove to us.
That he only takes the best!
       Author unknown

     I do fine handling my grief most of the time but occasionally when I think of my Tom an almost indescribable feeling hits me. It's as if my insides are filling up with a balloon filled with nothing but air and emptiness expanding inside you until your whole body fills with emptiness. I have learned well what the Scotch/Irish people mean when your read about people "keening" out of grief. It is a natural, involuntary thing. It comes from down deep inside. Without realizing it you are suddenly making a sharp moaning sound without control. It must be my "highland" blood.
     It struck me the other night that one of the most lonely grief-filled times is after supper. There is nothing I can think of that generates grief and loneliness than the sight of one fork, one knife, and one plate all alone in the dish drainer. It is almost as lonely as the sight of that side of the bed which never gets messed up.

To read Tom's obituary, click here