January 28, 2020

Weeeeee! In Memory of Tom

January 28, 2020



If you know me you know I fantasize and even threaten to sell this farm on a daily basis.  If you really know me then you know that Tom, our ranch hand, is the reason I don't.  Tom is the reason I'm still here forcing myself to make this work.  This hardship, this pain in my rear, this more bad than good, this "I can't take another season" came to ease when Tom came into our lives.


No comment.
Most couples fight about money.  My husband and I fight about this blasted farm.  We were even found bickering about it at a Fourth of July party over two years ago when a friend said, "I have just the guy that will solve all of this".  And voila, Tom started that next week.  Tom desperately needed work and I desperately needed Tom. He was about to lose everything and I was on the brink of proposing an irrational ultimatum that consisted of selling the place.  Tom changed all of that.  Working for us gave him purpose and he gave me a happier marriage. 

"Boss, you saved my life!"

"Tom, you saved my marriage so we're square!"

My morning routine changed immediately after Tom started.  I would wake up, make coffee and settle in on the couch and read my "Tom emails".  Tom would enthusiastically email me everything he researched pertaining to the project at hand. Using the highlight, bold and larger font tools, Tom would undoubtedly get his message across.  A thoughtful and conservative list of supplies along with his expert opinion on how to best execute his plan would fill my inbox.  Up before the roosters, His emails would be sent to me every morning by 2 or 3am.  Tom would promptly arrive by 6am and get to work.  My needy assurance that he was here was fulfilled with the sound of the squeaky faucet that waters the chickens.  I hated that squeak, but I loved what it meant more. I also knew he was here by the sound of the horses stampeding to the front fence line as his truck pulled up to feed. A thunderous and beautiful sound.


Diamond, one of Tom's favorites.  Who am I kidding? Every animal was Tom's favorite.
"Tom will take care of it" quickly became the anecdote to my anxiety.  Ah, Anxiety.  We had that in common.  You see, Tom was extremely thorough.  The kind of thoroughness that was fueled by anxiety.  I mentioned I had a blog about this dang farm and he went home and read it.  Every word.  He read about our life, our children, our story, our losses, our gains and, that like him, I suffered from anxiety and depression topped off with a daunting dose of perfectionism.  Over time, Tom would open up and share what he was dealing with and say with tears in his eyes, "You see boss, you're like me.  You understand me".  I would listen and tell him it's okay and that he's not alone.  I would desperately try to assure him that we were here for him and alongside him. My heart grew and broke at the same time.  I so badly wanted him to be okay.  I could feel the toll of his affliction.  I wanted to fix him.  I wanted to save him. I wanted to do everything I could for him.  Heck, I wanted to build a tiny home in the back just for Tom and his dog.


Tom thought Wilbur had tumor on his tail and assumed the worst.  A vet  determined otherwise.  Wilbur had a  "poop ball" forming on his tail.  According to the vet, it was his most exciting call to date. 
Tom pressed on and continued to come to work as long as there wasn't a percentage of rain in the forecast.  According to Tom, if there's to be rain he could save me a penny or two by not coming in. *Sigh, laugh. Oh, that Tom* When working on a farm, there's the John Deere way, the Farmer's Almanac way, and the Tom way.  I always, without hesitation, went with the Tom way.  No matter how many pipes and hoses, otherwise dangerous strengths of fertilizer, trips to Atwoods, impossible to get fencing materials, or unnecessary tractor tune-ups, if it's Tom's way then it's my way.  My husband would often come home and see something Tom had done and before he could ask I'd say, "I don't want to hear it.  Don't even question it.  That's Tom's work, his way so it's my way and that's that".  My husband would smile knowing that a happy wife is a happy life.  Smart, smart man that husband of mine.


Tom has reminded me to pause and see beauty in life on the farm and appreciate all that we have.
Tom always asked for permission.  No matter how many times I told him to do as he saw fit, he asked.  One day he asked if he could use the EZ-GO to haul loads to and from the barn.  As soon as I said yes, Tom took off towards the barn like a horse to a bucket of sweet feed. I'd never seen him run.  He had a steel rod in his back for crying out loud.  Seconds later I heard the most cheerful and joyful sound.  


"Weeeeeeeeeee!"

Tom whizzed by like a child on brand new four wheeler with his hair blowing in the wind and a smile from ear to ear as he zipped across the pasture.  It was pleasantly warm that day.  Tom was happy. He felt good. I can still hear my kids giggle as we watched him zoom off back towards the barn. That moment will forever be a treasure that tugs a smile from my heart.  Weeeeeeee!


Blu and Buddy had fun with the EZ-GO too!
Tom took care of everything.  Tom took care of the things I did not particularly enjoy, so that would be just about everything.  But when it came to death on the farm it was hard. It wasn't just another chore or impending inconvenience - it was loss of life and Tom felt it to his core.  The all too common loss of a chicken would leave Tom in tears, unable to come in to work the next day.  We tragically lost our two beloved Pyrenees.  Too devastated to handle it myself, Tom bravely took care of our protectors of the farm only to internalize the loss to a depth that pained him more than one can know.  Soon after, our three-legged cat had to be put down.  Tom barely recovered. He deeply grieved each and every loss, no matter how small. 


Our protectors of the farm, Pippa and Rosie.  Rosie fancied Tom most.
Life.  Tom brought our farm to life in more ways than I thought possible.  He turned weed filled pastures into dreamy green meadows.  He built fences that would have Texas ranchers jealous.  Tom prepared gardens that boasted delicious vegetables.  He impeccably kept and organized our barn to a picture perfect standard that allowed me to be in there without having a nervous breakdown.  Tom adored and cared for our chickens like a shepherd to his sheep.  He looked after our horses as if they were priceless derby contenders.  Our pigs won Tom's affection and trained him to bring them treats.  Tom watered my dreams for Farm Girl Fair and helped grow a magical day that was brought to life because of his innate dedication to doing only the very best on top of above and beyond.  Every blade trimmed and limb pruned, Tom made everything better, more beautiful.  Through sweet tears, Tom thanked me often for his job on the farm.  He did everything with pride, honesty, integrity, and genuine gratitude.  And for a cherished time our farm brought life to Tom.


Tom always made sure Lottie had plenty of straw to burrow in.
Loss.  Loss is something you never really get over, you can only get through.  The more precious the life the more painful the loss.  We lost our Tom on January 2, 2020.  We lost the heartbeat of our farm that day.  We lost a dear soul that helped save mine.  Our Tom took his life to end a suffering so unimaginable, no one can truly understand. Tom battled a raging war that left him in such deep despair that no earthly remedy could treat or cure.  Like loss, mental illness is often something someone suffering can not get over, but only try to get through.  Because of Tom I am determined to get through.  I am encouraged to fight and live a life that has me gleefully saying, "Weeeeeee!" despite the weight of affliction he fought and I carry.  


Tom at Farm Girl Fair.  I remember him telling me, "Never be too old to ride a bull."
Tom, thank you for the selfless gift you gave despite your pain.  Thank you for helping me love the farm you so dearly cared for.  Because of you our land is a special and thriving place forever touched. Signs of "Tom's way" are scattered everywhere. 

Fondly,
Boss


We can't have a farm without a Tom.  Tom is our new keeper of the farm.  This pup has helped dry our tears and console our hearts.


Oliver, the "feelings cat", purrs and comforts me as I type this post.

1 comment :

  1. You are an incredible writer. I felt as though I was walking along with you on your farm as you pointed out “Tom here, and Tom there...”. I walked through the heartbreak too! My family will be meeting yours on October 15th! We’re never been to your space before, but we’re looking forward to our.

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