17...Remembering.
Colour and light for a journey touched by loss.
This post is my attempt to process losing a person who was my age, and whom I’ve known almost my entire life. I wrote this to find words for the confusing experience of wondering why I’m not more emotional (but coming to grips with that being okay), and questioning why my memory seems to fail me right now, when I’d love to tell a moving story, peppered with colourful details, but can only come up with vague remnants. There’s really no great story that I can tell here.
So, I absolutely understand if this message doesn’t resonate for you today. Don’t feel bad if you click past it!
Today, I send colour and light if you are grappling with grief and trying to pinpoint how you feel about loss. I receive that colour and light for myself too. May our days be covered over with peace, love, and appreciation. ❤️
A few days ago, I found out that Tom Malin died. I started kindergarten with him and we shared a similar path through to grade 12.
He was Tommy all through our early school years. My memories of young Tommy have faded almost to nil. My mind’s eye can see him in class photos. I have vague recollections of a smart, athletic boy that I probably had a crush on as a pre-teen.
What I do remember is that Tommy was so much a part of what our neighbourhood, Marlborough, was for me back then. He’s part of all of those hazy, broad-themed memories that live in my heart from elementary school, when I remember wide swaths of friends taking our neighbourhood by storm with fun. He was always within my peripheral vision.
As we moved into junior high and high school, our connection loosened. Tommy was popular and I wasn’t. Tommy was an excellent athlete and I wasn’t. Tommy was confident beyond my comprehension and I wasn’t. We seemed to live in parallel streams; I was aware of his presence, but didn’t know him on a deep level anymore. I would have still used the word “friend” to describe him, but we didn’t interact on a level that would practically have made us more than acquaintances. I suspect that he would say the same, if he could.
As happens, we graduated in 1995 and went in different directions. I didn’t really looked back much after that, because I was happy with my evolving life, meeting new people in different places, travelling, working, and getting married. I rarely thought about my school days. I didn’t really long for those connections to be restored.
Enter the phenomenon that was Facebook in 2007. In heartily searching for friends to add to my network, I reconnected with Tommy and many of my high school acquaintances again. Reviewing his highlight reel since graduation shone a spotlight on how little I felt I had achieved while he soared. He had played rugby internationally, graduated with a commerce degree, and started a successful business (if you live in Calgary and happen to remember the themed Party Machine buses, that was all Tommy).
Our reconnection elicited a few conversations over the years, and I watched as his real estate business became such a passion for him. I read about how fitness was something that helped to ground him, and he shared his journey of bodybuilding. In his zeal for fitness, he started a challenge that he called “100 Days” sessions, where participants would commit to be intentionally physically active for 100 days. I joined him for two such challenges, and even in a Facebook group, he was a coach to his core - an encourager, always asking us to push past the discomfort, always believing in how great we could be. I don’t remember if I finished both, but I know I for sure finished the first round with him.
I have been thinking these last few days about how I could honour Tommy’s memory in my own small way, and nothing seems to fit more than by doing something active. I’m going to reboot a “100 Days” for myself (and anyone who would be interested in joining me), starting on November 9, 2022 and going through to the beginning of the Alberta Family Day weekend (February 17, 2023). That just so happens to coincide with my 46th birthday, which was 34 days before what would have been his.
I remember you, Tommy Malin. Rest peacefully.
k
Great way to honour him. Well done.
I didn't known Tom, but you are third person i know who sermed to have been positively impacted by having been in his sphere. So sorry Karen.