Dear Toy Boy Tom,
Every time I see a photo of you since your passing, I look at your beaming, wonderful smile, and I just can't reconcile that I won't ever see it again, nor see you again, nor hear your lovely, smiling voice.
I know I wasn't close to you, in fact I'd say you were probably the opposite of me - I tend to wear my heart on my sleeve and share too much, but when someone touches your heart, it really doesn't matter if you've known them for minutes, or decades. You were a very private person, but that didn't matter. There were many other things to discuss rather than secrets or personal lives!
We chatted on many a run, and I honestly can't even recall anything we discussed! It wasn't deep and meaningful conversations, but we chatted away about something and nothing, with the bond created simply by the shared experience of the current hash or event, and a mutual shared enjoyment of whiling away the hours in the company of many who love and find endless joy in the outdoors and adventures that can be found there. I feel that as a breed of people, hashers mostly share this common interest.
I've been lucky enough to know you since Aug 2021. I met you on the pre AGPU hash run. I arrived at the pretty riverside beer stop having just been stung by a giant wasp that I disturbed in the undergrowth. There to greet me was the beaming smile of a hasher I'd never met before, with a hash handle that seemed to describe anything but the lovely gentleman I was introduced to! Your name still makes me chortle even now. It could not be more ridiculously perfect for you. To my comfort, you'd also been stung, so we compared experiences and, as with many hashers I meet, I immediately felt like I'd made a new friend.
The last time I spent time with you alive was at the Aberdeen Hash Christmas party last December. I had the privilege of sitting next to you at dinner. I'm glad it was such a happy memory. Strangely, at the end of the night, I chatted to you and Fifi outside the pub before you left early as you had the heavy responsibility of kindly setting the hangover hash the next morning. You really were always so kind. I watched you walking away down the street and even took a photo I posted on the whatsapp group. I felt a little sad for some reason as you disappeared off into the distance. For one reason or another, I didn't hash or see you again until after your terrible accident. I'm very sad about that, but so happy to have known you, even for such a short time.
In fact, I want to mention a poem to you:
A butterfly lights beside us, like a sunbeam...
and for a brief moment, it's glory
and beauty belong to our world...
but then it flies on again, and although
we wish it could have stayed,
we feel lucky to have seen it.
Author Unknown
The last time I went to Hazelhead crematorium was for a memorial service in the autumn of 2015 following the loss of my child, who never was. This was the reading we had there, and it never felt right because i wasn't thankful for anything. I was so sad and angry, and the words were beautiful and touching, but didn't seem right for what had happened to me. Thursday this week will be your funeral, in the very same crematorium, and walking in there will both bring up memories of my own loss, as well as the loss of your wonderful, joyous self to me and the world. But i will think of you now when i hear these words because they are so much more fitting for the relationship i shared with you, than for the loss of my chance to have a child.
RIP TBT. You were a bright butterfly in so many lives, and I wish so much you had more time to share your joy. It is so cruel you are gone. But I am so glad and lucky and incredibly honoured I got to know you at all. You really are a very special guy. ❤️
Love, Kate
Kate/4Fingers
23rd April 2024