Thomas Cato West

West Point, 1955

Be Thou At Peace

Posted by Sharon West on October 19, 2016:

Good afternoon, I am Sharon West. It is a privilege for me to be here with you all to honor my dad, Thomas Cato West, or as he liked to be called, Tommy. I read somewhere once, that there is no greater gift you can give than the gift of your presence, and so on behalf of my mother, my siblings, and all of our families, I want to thank all of you who took the time to come from near and far to be with us here today. One of the eulogies posted on the West Point Class of 55 web page said my dad had a huge heart and the courage of a lion --and I agree. But I think all of us here, with our own unique memories of my dad, share one common, simple observation: There was something extraordinary about him. And so I've thought a lot about how to articulate what that special something was, that exceptional charisma --that he had -- and put it into words. I think it was because somehow, without even trying, my dad was able to really connect with the people that were around him. When he spoke to you - you felt like you were the most important person in the room. He took the time to know what was important to you, and to remember to ask about it the next time he saw you. And it was that propensity for connection drew people to my dad. After he passed I found this in his car. It is the Cadet prayer from his days at West Point. And when I read it I was amazed because I could see that somehow it truly had become woven into the very fabric of my dad's life. It says, in part: O God, our Father, Thou Searcher of human hearts, help us to draw near to Thee in sincerity and truth. May our religion be filled with gladness and may our worship of Thee be natural. Encourage us in our endeavor to live above the common level of life. Guard us against flippancy and irreverence to the sacred things of life. Grant us new ties of friendship and new opportunities of service. Without trying, my dad did live above the common, shallow level of life. His priorities were simple, and he made them known by the way he lived. Although he was a courageous warrior who volunteered to fly dangerous missions to rescue the wounded in Viet Nam, or to help the US Army push the boundaries of aviation by having the guts it took to get inside the cockpit of an untried experimental aircraft -- he would never tell you those things. He was a modest guy, who never considered himself above anyone in any walk of life. Even in the end, at Walter Reed, he often shooed the doctors away, telling them they had more important people to tend to than he. My dad's enjoyment in life was not derived from things, rather it was sharing time with his loved ones that gave him the most joy. He would sometimes recount that some of the happiest times he had were spent in the early days sitting with my mom in their car on a Saturday night enjoying a bag of hamburgers and two bottles of beer. It wasn't about the opulence of the surroundings, rather it was the people he was with that made life worth living for my dad. My dad knew how to have fun. When we lived in Germany, he wasn't above launching an impromptu family water fight complete with hoses turned on full -- both outside and inside the house. And, as the prayer says, my dad wasn't irreverent to the sacred things in life. His strong faith was no secret to anyone who knew him. It did fill him with gladness and was natural to him. And while he stood unapologetically for what he believed in, he was always welcoming and accepting of others, even if they had differing points of view. I remember him often saying that while he may not agree with what you said, that he would go to his death fighting for your right to say it. And of course he never failed to show his boundless love and generosity to something else he considered quite sacred: his family. His steadfast devotion to and love for my mom never wavered for more than 60 years. He was always first in line to be there for every family event, never missing an opportunity to celebrate the special days -- and the ordinary days -- just happy to spend time together. But really, to him, everyone in his circle was family. It was not uncommon for him to say of this person or of that -- that they were "like family" to him and he meant it. He was indeed continuously granted new ties of friendship. One of the things I admired most about my dad is that his circle of friends always continued to grow -- not diminish - throughout his entire life. I think that was because he made it a point to be present for the people he cared about whenever he could. Even as he got older it was no big deal to him to jump in the car and drive 800 miles to be present at a grandchild's baptism or to be there for the funeral of a friend, or, when he was simply fishing at his beloved Crescent Beach -- "holding fort" for so many of us here who were lucky enough to wander down and hang out with him. And when he was there -- wherever he was -- he shared his heart with us: I can still see his big smile, laughing with those around him, living in the moment, and hear him figuratively, and literally, singing like no one was listening. And so I think if he was here today my dad would agree that the greatest gift you CAN give is the gift of your presence. Because he was so present, always, with us all. And I know he always will be -- present - in the hearts of all of us that loved him and miss him so very much. Thank you.

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