Tom

Once, when I stepped on a piece of glass and a stream of blood started shooting about 3" out from my foot, Tom took of his shirt, tied up my foot and carried me into the house. Later, when he skinned himself badly in a motorcycle accident, I helped clean up his raw hip and checked to make sure there was no gravel permanently lodged in it.

When he was a mechanic, I brought him sandwiches wrapped in napkins so that he could eat without taking a lot of time to clean his greasy hands. In college, he brought me pizza or snickers if he knew I hadn't eaten all day and especially when I had no money.

I wanted to go camping with him and so he took me camping in the desert and taught me to rock climb without ropes and we both survived. I cooked breakfast and built the fire while he chopped wood.

When I started my postdoc, he gave me $100 because he knew I was flat broke after moving to Georgia. He was pretty much flat broke as a med student with one child and one on the way, but he came up with the money anyway. I sent the money back to him when he was broke and that $100 passed between us a lot of times after. I don't remember who ended up with it.

Tom called me from the distant location of his deployment after Dad's heart attack to make sure I was okay. We talked about how it's terrible when you are away from loved ones and something bad happens. He was tired after working all night. Maybe it helped him to talk to me.

So I shouldn't have wondered much when I came home and found a box of gluten free baking mixes on my porch last night, but I never fathomed that Tom would think of my mundane dietary needs when he is so far away.

I miss you Tom. I'd fly half way around the world to see you right now if dear old uncle Sam would let me.