For Thomas, 2008

Tom,

I know it's not quite a year yet, but this sleepless night seems a good time to write to you.  I'm toasting your memory with Lagavulin 16yo on the rocks, not quite the Distiller's Edition you introduced me to, but still one of the best.  I can scarcely believe April 15th has nearly arrived.

We all leave our footprints on this world in different ways.  I hope that somewhere, somehow, you can see the void you've left in our hearts, and know the difference you made in our lives.  I cannot fully understand the demons you fought every day for almost 35 years, but I wish you knew what every one of those days meant to those of us you left behind.  I think perhaps even WE didn't understand your impact, until you were gone.

When I see a commercial for Arriba Mexican Grill, I think of you.  I know we only dined there maybe four times, but I will forever remember the night we sat there for hours, having a few beers and talking through our crises.  I only wish yours could have been resolved differently.

I doubt that I'll get to drive to Tortilla Flat on the 15th, but I hope to make the drive in your memory soon.  I am still haunted by the thought of you on that long drive, trying for at least an hour to talk yourself out of it, as you no doubt had done so often before.  There are so many "if onlys"...

I cheered alongside you at all of the Colts games this year - did you know that?  I'm so happy you got to see them win a Super Bowl last year.  Did I tell you Eli Manning got a matching ring of his own this season?  Did you get to watch?  Is the Super Bowl televised where you are now?

I climbed Camelback Mountain for you a little while after you left.  I am in very bad shape, and wouldn't have made it without you.  I also had the kind help of a girl half my age, who helped keep me from giving up in despair.  I don't know why she went, and helped, but I was glad she did.  Anyway, I forgot to take a picture of myself atop the peak, so I don't have any proof for you that I made it.  I guess I need to lose some weight and climb it again, to get the pic.

I wore my "Wimbledon 2000" tie pin to the band concert this week.  It didn't match the outfit, but I don't think anyone noticed.  Besides, I also had the blue and yellow www.afsp.org bracelet thing on my wrist, which I wear for you every day.  Someone finally asked me about it a couple of weeks ago, so I got to mention the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention.  Maybe someone will be helped, if I keep wearing them.

That's a double dose of Wimbledon:  I saw Monica Seles on "Dancing with the Stars" this week.  Remember when we saw her play Arantxa Sanchez-Vicario?  That campout and day at Wimbledon was the best day of my 3 years in the UK, and I'm glad it was with you.  We saw some impressive stuff that day... remember how Anke Huber groaned every time she hit the ball?  Heh - the most erotic thing we'd ever heard on a tennis court!  She was having WAY too much fun out there... which was good, because Martina Hingis was beating the CRAP out of her.  And we got to see Agassi, too, remember?  And Lleyton Hewitt playing mixed doubles... boy, we thought he had SO much potential... just never got it together.

I remember the first time you and I ever met.  It was at Cummins' facility on State Street, when we were both getting ready for the move to the UK.  I was very uncomfortable, but I'm always uncomfortable when I meet people.  If I had known how you and Emma and I would bond, I wouldn't have been afraid.  Emma was so very devastated by your death, you know?  I called her in England as soon as I could get her number.  I miss her terribly, too.  She's just one of the most thoroughly amazing and beautiful people you'll ever meet, you know?  I wish she weren't so far away.  Will you visit her for me sometime?

Oh, when I was back in Indiana last summer, I took a day and went to Columbus.  Several of us got together to celebrate your life.  Brad DeCamp was there, and Rick Fox, and Greg Johnson, and of course Dave Everett.   Even my pal Dave Gerchak came, though I don't think you ever met him.

I can't walk to campus without thinking about you when I pass the place we last saw each other, where we shook hands outside the Cyprus Pita Grill.  We never used to shake hands... how bizarre that we would on that day.  I thought things seemed so normal.  You were asking about my iPod case, because you wanted to get one like it.  We talked about the Colts' offseason personnel changes, and how the team would cope.  It didn't seem to be one of your bad days, although I could tell you didn't like being apart from Kelly.  I don't blame you - you made a wonderful choice.  I never dreamed in less than 3 weeks, you'd be gone.  Did you know I emailed you on the day you took your life?  I wrote to you about the old DVD player you helped me pick out in 2000.  How mundane is that?!?  You always think there's tomorrow.  I also wrote to you a few times after you died, but I doubt you got those emails.

I figure I have another 2 years left to serve in this desert wasteland.  I don't like this place, but I have some good friends at ASU now, and they tolerate my nonsense well.  None of them know the things about me that you know, and none of them will, but that's probably for the best.  I'm blessed to have had a friend who could be shown the best and the worst of me, the most noble parts and the blackest corners of my heart.  And that was you.  It's funny - for most of the years I knew you, you were my "project", the little brother-type who I was going to settle down at some point.  I hope I helped a little.  The funny thing, though, is that in the end I think you helped heal ME.  How did someone as messed-up as you help me find myself?!?

I know you loved to hear Sarah McLachlan.  Now of course when I hear her, especially "I Will Remember You" or "Angels", I think about you.  And even though you no doubt find both of the songs I'm about to mention really corny, sometimes I plug in the iPod and sing a couple of songs for you: "Bridge Over Troubled Water" (yes, Simon and Garfunkel) and "Sunshine on My Shoulders" (I know, I know, a JOHN DENVER song?!?).  And of course now I listen to all of the endless Dave Matthews Band CDs you gave me... they were the soundtrack of your adult life, it seemed.

My scotch has run empty.  Maybe that's my sign to wrap this up.  I'm gonna give Kelly a call in the next few days, and see how her life is going.  She seems to be doing really well, but she sure loved you, my friend.

I miss you, Tom.  Be well, be at peace, and please visit me if you can.  You're a good man and a good friend, and I still need you in my life.

Stacey