Tom

Tom Shannon, who was not only the father of my best friend, but a man who I considered a dear friend and almost a second father figure, passed away today of a sudden aneurysm. He was 63.

Those of you who met Tom knew him as a kind but firm man, always quick with an opinion and generous with a smile and laugh. He was also a caring family man, who raised his children with a level of love and support that one can only wish all kids would find as they grow up.

I can personally vouch for his effectiveness and persistence as a parent. Shortly after I became friends with Sean and Heather, it quickly came to my attention that the Shannons now considered me one of their own, and treated me accordingly. This meant that not only was I given more love and support than I would ever deserve, but also that I would not be allowed to waste any potential they saw in me.

In the years since my failed attempt to finish my thesis, Tom would forever open conversations with me by asking, “Get your thesis done yet?” No sir, I would always respond, not this week. He would frown with an indignation which only half the time seemed jovial. He wanted me to succeed. And he wouldn’t let me forget about it.

He was also a kindred spirit in mischief and satire. Tom frequently wrote his own comedy songs, and his love of the genre rivaled and surpassed my own. One of his proudest moments came when one of his songs was played on the nationally syndicated Dr. Demento show, an event commemorated by a plaque in his office featuring a recording of the fabled episode. As I composed my own songs, Tom’s opinion was one I cherished above all others, and when I made him laugh (or, more specifically, when I made him chuckle and look at me sideways, shaking his head), I knew I had accomplished my goal.

Tom’s deep love and devotion to his wife Diane was boundless. I have never known a married couple who were so clearly in love with each other as the two of them. Whenever Tom was not working in his upstairs office, they were together, having lunch, going shopping, talking, laying snuggled together in front of the television (the fabled “couch time”). They would spend as much time together as possible.

They should have had more time. They deserved all the time in the world.

Tom Shannon was a husband, a father, a son, a brother, a friend, an artist, a writer, a craftsman, a businessman, a critic, and much more. And he will be missed more than I could possibly ever say.