{originally posted on threebythirty, Jan. 18, 2015}
"Friends are the family we choose for ourselves."
I can remember the first time I spent a holiday with Tommy
Terrill. I was filling a dual role:
excited mommy-to-be, and bloated, beached whale. Easter 2006 found me waddling up the driveway
of my friend Sue's house, arms loaded with food {of course...what pregnant girl
doesn't fit that stereotype?}. My
maternity clothes billowed around me, reminiscent of a partially filled hot air
balloon, and my tree-trunk legs were still mourning the temporary loss of their
slenderizing friend; the ankle. Let's
just say, I wasn't feeling like I had a snowball's chance at winning a pageant
any time soon.
Not only did I look disastrous, my heart was hurting as
well. We had hardly been living in
Colorado one year, and on our first Easter there, Randy was stuck logging wells
in Utah. I was feeling lonely, sorry for
myself, and slightly excited about the idea that I could blame all of my
candy-coated cravings on the baby.
So when I was invited to join the Terrill family in their
home for Easter, I jumped for joy {not an easy, or attractive action at nearly
9 months pregnant}, because....people! I
would be surrounded by a family {albeit not mine--at the time}, but actual
people with whom I could converse and laugh and feel included...and eat {score,
pregnant lady...score}.
I don't exactly recall every detail of that Easter meal, but
now I know it marked the beginning of a vital, comforting, God-given era in the
lives of my family and me.
Sue and I had worked together nearly an entire school year,
and her presence in my life was integral those first few tender months of
living so far from 'home': living as a new wife, living as a {surprised}
expectant mom, living as a teacher who was feeling sub-par because of the
'newness', the unfamiliarity, the hard of education. Sue and I became fast friends. Her after-school hours were conducive to not
only my loneliness while Randy worked, but also my loquacious personality. Bless her heart for allowing me to spend
countless hours, chattering her ear off while she worked hard to prepare her
classroom for learning activities. Her
gift of time, along with a listening ear was one of the most generous gifts I
could have ever received during that transitional time in my life.
Over the course of that school year, both Randy and I had been
blessed to be introduced to the whole Terrill family. Not only did Sue and Tommy; but Sue's husband
Terry and their younger son Danny; serve as our 'movers' when we bought our
first home in November, 2005, but Sue's dad Les had become a bright light I
looked forward to seeing on the school days he volunteered his time to work
with littles.
It was the way the Terrill family was--IS. Giving, doing, sharing, listening, loving,
volunteering, donating, serving. Randy
and I quickly became acquainted with--and fell in love with--their
genuineness. Over the course of our
friendship, Randy and I have even taken to using the word 'Terrill' as an
adjective for when we can't properly describe something that has a beautiful,
wholesome, magnetic je ne sais quoi about it.
Tommy was such a positive example amazing qualities his
parents instilled in him, but even with all of that amazingness filling his
soul, he still found room to fit more.
The unique blend of personality that Tommy possessed is one of those rare
and beautiful finds that makes you pause for a moment to thank God for creating
such a well-rounded, well-grounded, life-loving individual--and to pause for
another moment to pray that He will create in you and others, more
opportunities to be more Tommy-like.
That first Easter I shared with the Terrill family was life
changing. The laughs, inevitable. The food, delicious. The way Tommy made it feel so normal to have
a random and overly-pregnant girl chattering away at his family's dining table;
it's a quality that struck me and stuck with me.
When I was growing up, holidays were almost always spent
with family. Blood relatives,
interspersed with the occasional 'outsider'.
It's not that my family wasn't accommodating to other people joining our
celebration, it was more of a 'that's the way it is' type of mentality. I had never really experienced a holiday with
those who didn't fall under the umbrella of 'family tree material'.
The course of that changed while I shared an Easter meal in
the Terrill's home in 2006. Welcoming
arms, warm smiles, funny stories, and 'so forth'. The era of the 'Terril-ley' holidays had
begun. Sharing time and stories,
breaking bread, debating football, and Randy explaining to Les 'one more time'
what his line of work entails {"that's a fact!"}. Standard activities whenever we were all
together.
Needless to say, our family's move to Texas put to rest an
ongoing tradition that had brought us comfort during our tenure in
Colorado. Holidays now carry with them
the longing not only for time with our 'family tree family', but for our chosen
blended Colorado family as well. The
kids had never known anything but holidays with the Terrills, so it was {and
still is}, a feeling of 'offness' for all of us knowing we won't be eating
Jell-o salad, playing with the beagles, being surrounded by the comforting
blanket of love that is the Terrill family.
Thank you, God, for the memories of those times that we can carry in our
heart.
~~~
Thanksgiving, 2014.
My heart shattered as I stirred the gravy and heard my sweet
friend's wavering voice on the other end of the phone, confirming that Tommy's
life had tragically been cut short in an accident the night before. Physical ache took over, stealing my ability
to speak and contain the tears that poured from my eyes like a river. Our family, our blended and blessed family,
had been cracked wide open, a wound too great to ever fully heal.
Tommy was a comedian.
An outdoorsman. A talented
athlete. He carried with him an arsenal
of quick-witted cracks, deadpan responses, and wise-ass comments that
inevitably left anyone within a 30-foot radius with sore cheeks and a quasi ab
workout from laughing so hard.
Tommy was devoted.
Not just to his beautiful wife, Snowden, upon whom he believed the sun
rose and set, but to his family, friends, animals, and the random stranger with
whom he'd interact. Tommy was the
epitome of someone who truly loved, appreciated, and cherished the human
experience. His time on this earth was
overflowing with his positive energy and inspirational outlook that influenced
and motivated so many.
Tommy brought a level of 'real' to any situation. His natural charisma was a key tool he used
to give everyone in the room a feeling of comfort. He was approachable and welcoming. He adored my kids. And my kids adored him. Gavin especially took a liking to both Tommy,
and Danny as well, because when we spent time at the Terrills, he wasn't so
outnumbered by sisters. Both Tommy and
Danny made my kids feel comfortable and welcome. They would play with them. Acknowledge them. Enjoy them.
From a mom perspective, I was grateful for not only the respite from
being their sole entertainer, but more importantly for the positive and loving
influence Tommy and Danny provided for my kids.
And even though Tommy was a bit hesitant and nervous to hold a squishy
newborn Raegan back in 2011, I saw in him a heart that I knew would make for
the most incredible father any child could ask for.
While Tommy was not given the opportunity on earth to have
his own children, it does not in any way mean that his legacy will not carry
on. Friendships forged because of
Tommy's presence will be forever encouraged by his compassion. Husbands who knew Tommy will be inspired to
love on their wives more deeply and all-encompassing because of the way in
which he loved Snowden. Anyone with siblings
will be more inclined to dedicate themselves fully to the unbreakable bond that
God created when he gave us brothers and sisters, all because Tommy exemplified
what it meant to not only be a brother, but a best friend. And sons everywhere will want to deepen their
relationship with their parents because of the way Tommy loved Sue and
Terry. He was a dedicated son. Like every child, he didn't always make
choices that were a perfect example of common sense, but he possessed within
him the positive, Christ-like characteristics that Sue and Terry impressed upon
him throughout his beautiful life.
There are no words for when tragedies like this occur in the
lives of those we love. No
one-trick-pony way to encapsulate the sadness and make it go away. The hurt will be there, it will infiltrate
daily lives; some days striking us down to rock bottom, while other days
serving as a minor affliction while we choose to focus on the positive. That this world was graced with the presence
of a man, the likes of whom are a rare and beautiful find, is truly proof that
God does not make mistakes. Tommy
confidently walked this earth and charmed his way into lives and infiltrated
the hearts of so many. The smiles and
happy memories he has gifted those who knew him, I believe, were his way of
leaving behind something that will pave the way toward a place of
heart-mending.
My heart is still shattered in many ways, shards of it fell
into our Thanksgiving gravy as I stirred that day in shock and disbelief. But even in that moment, even with that
horrific news shaking the core of our family, I still experienced a bit of
God's peace.
~~~
It was Gavin's second Thanksgiving, and we were gathered in
the Terrill kitchen, helping with preparations for the meal, nibbling the
appetizers Sue had prepared. Tommy stood
at the stove, methodically stirring the gravy that would soon enrobe the
delicious smelling turkey, and cover mounds of fluffy, white mashed
potatoes. I couldn't wait. Afterall, gravy is one of the food groups
when it comes to holiday meals.
Sue had just placed a Pyrex dish, piled high with delicious
homemade mashed potatoes on the stove top, as counter space was quickly
reaching capacity as the final components of the meal came together. Randy was breaking off pieces of cheese and
crackers for Gavin to mush into his crumb-covered face when all of the sudden
we heard an explosion, of sorts. The
brief moments of flourished activity now blend together in my mind, but in the
aftermath, what we discovered was this:
a cool Pyrex dish does *not* like to be placed atop a hot stove burner, even
if that particular dish was placed there in an oversight due to too many cooks
in the kitchen {literally}.
The Pyrex shattered.
Not just into pieces. No,
no. The shards of glass that were the
result of this lesson learned were so insanely small, so well-scattered
throughout Sue's kitchen, that if you went there today, you might still be able
to find one {even though Sue keeps a very clean home!}. Pryex was on the counter. On the stove.
On the kitchen island. The
floor. In the folds of our clothes {but
thankfully not embedded in skin!}. It
was in the corn, interspersed throughout the plates of turkey, and
in.the.gravy.
It was a total loss.
There's no real way to bring gravy back after it's become
'chewable'. All that work, the attentive
stirring Tommy had done became a thing of the past as we cleaned up the mess of
potato and Pyrex. The memory of that
serves as an ongoing joke, a happily recalled story for the Terrill-Conley
family.
Tommy was a bit perturbed his hard work was all for naught
as the last of crunchy gravy was poured into the trash; but Tommy being Tommy,
he found the humor quickly, and laughed it off, embedding it in each of our
memories as a happy one.
As I stood at my stove, just seven Thanksgivings later, my
gravy had an added ingredient as well.
The tears that fell from my eyes were of course liquid, but the pain I
felt in crying them hurt every bit as much as shards of glass in my eyes. But while I stirred and cried, cried and
stirred, I couldn't help but find God in that gravy.
God gave Tommy to the world, and used him in ways that are
so far-reaching we may never truly realize his impact. He used Tommy in big ways, in funny ways, in
comforting ways. But perhaps one of my
most special ways to remember the way God used Tommy, was in gravy ways.
Rest peacefully, Tommy, the hole you've left is one the
world will never be able to fill.