There are more words to the story. Words about the colon cancer that shortened his life to 57 years. Words about the three children, two still at home, he wasn't done parenting.
Tom was a writer and newspaper editor. He'd have no trouble finding the words I've been searching for these past weeks.
What can I possibly say? Tom was my friend. The kind of friend you recognize the moment you meet. Writing to Tom was like chatting with a close family member; we wrote daily, often several times a day. Email was such a gift to both of us in this golden year of friendship. That's all we had. One year from the day we met at a cancer retreat in Bolinas, California to the day I stood next to his casket in Wisconsin.
Words are hard to come by when the emotion is strong. Tom was a big brother to me, a loving friend, a companion on a tough journey. Maybe I'll be able to share more of this story over time. It's not a sad story. No, mostly I smile and feel great love when I think of Tom. I know he'd be really ticked off if I sat around bawling anyway.