(Tommy and I, Savannah, GA 2003)

My friend Tommy passed away this week. He was one of the greatest guys I have known. He was an amazing artist, a truly giving soul, and had the greatest spirit and outlook on life it would sometimes drive me crazy.

Tommy would always hit me up on Gchat, iChat, facebook chat, basically anything that had a chat and say “What’s happening Wes? Let’s get a drink sometime.” We never got to get that last drink. We lived minutes from each other but as New York City can do, we just hadn’t seen each other and that was my fault. I’m wrecked with guilt because all Tommy wanted was to be surrounded by his friends. He was always willing to make the time to hang, and it wasn’t because of him that we hadn’t hung in awhile. He loved being around people.

I remember I came over to his apartment when he was just living in a closet on a cot in an apartment with four girls. I said, “Tommy this is horrible, how can you live like this?” He said to me, “No man, it’s great. I’m never alone, I’m surrounded by people all the time.” To Tommy, not having a bedroom was a great excuse to hang, for he had nowhere to go.

I have some specific memories of Tommy. One was the 18 hour straight road trip from Savannah to Chicago that we took with my friend Peter. I drove, Peter rode shotgun, and Tommy refused to sit anywhere but in the back. He also spoke very little the whole time. Just sitting in the back with his headphones and music. Peter and I would ask if he was good, and he would just smile at us and reassure us he was great. I peaked one time in the rear view mirror, and I remember Tommy stared out the window with a smile on his face. He seemed like a kid to me then, and I think that’s how I would like to remember him.

He used to always make me, DQ and Nick T walk to JO’s because the food was supposedly better there than the cafeteria in our dorm. I think he just liked to walk with his friends. The sun would be dropping below the horizon; the smell of the paper mill would sting our nostrils as we would talk about movies and the pretty girls in our drawing classes. What I wouldn’t give to make that walk one last time with those guys.

I always thought Tommy and I had a special bond because we were two guys from Chicago who went to art school in the south together, then both lived in New York together. We had been on parallel paths until now, Tommy’s having stopped short.

When I heard Tommy fell, I thought I knew what God was telling me, he was telling me to be a better friend because he could take Tommy from me, from us, whenever he wanted. So the first day at the hospital I wasn’t scared. When I saw him lying in the bed with a cut on his nose and his hair all messed up, he was just sleeping to me. Getting better so we could go get that drink in Greenpoint where we planned to use his Polish to hit on the girls in the neighborhood. I daydreamed about Tommy walking into the bar with a cane, and how only Tommy could pull off a cane.

But that didn’t happen, and today when Tommy’s father spoke to us about taking him off life support it hit me. I looked at Mr. Rajchel and all I could see was Tommy, and it killed me that Tommy would never grow old and have his own family. Because really that’s all the guy wanted, was to be surrounded by loved ones.

 Tommy had a million nicknames, Tommy Ray Charles, Tommy Pickles, Tommy T, Chicago Tommy… I always thought it was funny because when you just said “Tommy” everyone knew who you were talking about. The nicknames were out of love for Tommy’s spirit and enthusiasm…

So Tommy, you were a true gentleman and a prince. I’m sorry I wasn’t half the friend to you that you were to me. That will haunt me for the rest of my life. I’m sorry I never got to tell you how much I appreciated your friendship and company. I will truly miss you.

-Wes

4/6/11

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