September 8, 2020
Seventeen years ago at 2:34am, we received a tiny visitor into our home. His name was Thomas. His eyes were filled with all the wonder and magic that life had to offer and our lives were forever changed. We were in love with him the moment he entered our lives and his beautiful, gentle soul intertwined with ours in a union that made us whole. But little did we know that the journey we would take with him would be filled with anguish and heartache as he bravely fought against the issues his faulty genes unfairly had given him. Yet, in spite of all the obstacles he faced, he still found a way to appreciate and find joy in the simple and beautiful things in the world around him. In the frantic chaos of what we call living, he taught us to stop and listen to the trees, the songs of the birds and enjoy the dance of light reflections on his walls of his room.
In school, he made friends easily, and demonstrated his sense of humor and wit through his looks and adept use of his communication devices. He even had girlfriend problems. He was living as full of a life as he could have. But the world had other plans for him. Then, as quickly as he came into our lives, on February 26th he was taken away. Today, Thomas would have celebrated his 17th birthday. Today, we celebrate the life of Thomas and the lessons he taught us about being in the moment, appreciating each breath we take and living a life filled with joy, compassion and understanding. Thank-you Thomas for the time you shared with us. Let us take a minute to breathe deeply and listen quietly to the sounds of nature around us and let that be his gift to us.
I love you and miss you Thomas. I always will.
Dad
March 1, 2020
To some, Thomas looked like a boy with disabilities. But what I saw in him were his possibilities.
Thomas changed our lives and made us better people. He had the ability to attract people to him and to make them fall in love with him, care for him and bring joy to them.
He had the ability to teach us patience. He taught us to listen, be present and clear our minds of all pointless distractions of the world around us.
Thomas had the ability to transform us into better versions of ourselves. We became more compassionate, more innovative, more resourceful and more empathetic. He challenged us to be honest and true. He had no tolerance for superficiality and made it clear with a subtle look. He taught us that we had the strength to overcome our perceived limitations in our fight to give him the life he deserved. He embodied the essence of love and the ephemeral nature of life. A delicate flame that needed to be protected at all costs. He taught us that we had the capacity to love selflessly to a depth beyond anything we could have possibly imagined.
His love of nature, birds and trees taught us to look up and appreciate the dappled light filtering down through the canopy, listening to and experiencing the sounds of breezes rustling the leaves.
He had the ability to teach us what was truly important.
Hummingbirds, nuthatches and squirrels gathered outside his bedroom window bringing him a daily circus of activity. At a time of the day, sunlight would reflect off of the mirror ball and crystals hanging in his window and rainbows and sparkles of light would dance across the walls of his room. And boy would he let us know if we were somehow getting in the way of it. He was the Ringmaster of the house.
Yes, Thomas had disabilities, but compared to his abilities, he had super powers.
Some may measure success by the belongings we own or the money we accumulate. But, if we measure success by the number of lives we have touched and changed, Thomas would be one of the most successful people we knew. Those people would then go on to change the lives of many others and on and on like the ripples from a pebble tossed into a lake.
As you leave, please take a pebble and when you find a moment at a peaceful lake, listening to the breezes rustling the leaves in the trees that Thomas loved so much, toss that pebble and see how far your ripples can go.
Ron Suen – Father