Dear GDOT Family & Colleagues,
I am deeply saddened to share this news. Yesterday, we lost a dear friend and mentor to so many, Tom Patrick. For those who may not have known Tom or his work, he was a highly revered conservation botanist in Georgia, having worked for 33 years as a botanist with the Georgia Department of Natural Resources Wildlife Resources Division. He authored “Protected Plants of Georgia”, among other resources that so many of us, including GDOT’s Ecologists and consultant community, have relied on for decades to study our native flora. He, himself, was also apersonal resource and colleague/friend to those of us in the conservation community. We were fortunate to be directly assisted, guided, and inspired by him in plant conservation efforts. I owe so much of what I know about plant conservation to Tom, as so many of us do.
Worthy obituary messages
Even if you did not know Tom, I am certain that you have benefited in some way from his hard work and devotion to preserving Georgia’s natural ecosystems. Tom was a giant among us and inspired countless people.
It is always hard to lose someone, especially someone who touched so many. I hope you can join me in celebrating Tom’s life by helping to keep his legacy alive.
Here are some simple ways that you can help Tom’s work live on.
1.
Go outside and appreciate our natural world. Join a hike with the Georgia Botanical Society. There are led walks all around the state in some of our most beautiful parks and other natural areas.
2. Find some space in your yard for native plants. You won’t be sorry; I promise. The plants will bring in all kinds of beautiful butterflies and other pollinators.
4.
Participate in the Great Georgia Pollinator Census! Anyone can do it (you don’t need to be an entomologist). It is going on Today and Tomorrow only and takes just 15 minutes! Listen to this story about it that aired on the radio this morning.
5. Do something that fills you up. Find time to do things that are important to you. Tom had such an impact on us all because he did what he loved, up until the very end. (While in hospital, when the doctors asked him where he was, he said he was at the Botanical Garden trying to save rare plants.)
6. Take the time to listen to those around you. Even though he was most often the one with the most knowledge, Tom was rarely the one who spoke first. He always gave those around him time to talk and participate.
7. Take it all in stride. Anyone who works in conservation knows that the challenges are endless. Even as a warrior safeguarding imperiled plants, Tom was rarely anything but calm, respectful, and collaborative…which brings me to #8.
8. Work with others, not against them. Conservation takes negotiation and compromise. Tom had a knack for encouraging people to get together to make things work, without ill will or frustration. He always seemed to find that common thread that we could weave together.
9. Share what you know. Tom had an encyclopedic knowledge of native plants in Georgia and he shared that knowledge eagerly. Share what you know with others and hopefully they’ll do the same. We’ll all be smarter for it.
10. Think of ways to celebrate the people you love and respect. By following their lead, maybe we can inspire others to do the same.
Thank you, Tom! We are so grateful for all of your hard work and all that you have taught us. Georgia is a more beautiful place because of you.
On the Day I Die
On the day I die a lot will happen.
A lot will change.
The world will be busy.
On the day I die, all the important appointments I made will be left unattended.
The many plans I had yet to complete will remain forever undone.
The calendar that ruled so many of my days will now be irrelevant to me.
All the material things I so chased and guarded and treasured will be left in the hands of others to care for or to discard.
The words of my critics which so burdened me will cease to sting or capture anymore. They will be unable to touch me.
The arguments I believed I’d won here will not serve me or bring me any satisfaction or solace.
All my noisy incoming notifications and texts and calls will go unanswered. Their great urgency will be quieted.
My many nagging regrets will all be resigned to the past, where they should have always been anyway.
Every superficial worry about my body that I ever labored over; about my waistline or hairline or frown lines, will fade away.
My carefully crafted image, the one I worked so hard to shape for others here, will be left to them to complete anyway.
The sterling reputation I once struggled so greatly to maintain will be of little concern for me anymore.
All the small and large anxieties that stole sleep from me each night will be rendered powerless.
The deep and towering mysteries about life and death that so consumed my mind will finally be clarified in a way that they could never be before while I lived.
These things will certainly all be true on the day that I die.
Yet for as much as will happen on that day, one more thing that will happen.
On the day I die, the few people who really know and truly love me will grieve deeply.
They will feel a void.
They will feel cheated.
They will not feel ready.
They will feel as though a part of them has died as well.
And on that day, more than anything in the world they will want more time with me.
I know this from those I love and grieve over.
And so knowing this, while I am still alive I’ll try to remember that my time with them is finite and fleeting and so very precious—and I’ll do my best not to waste a second of it.
I’ll try not to squander a priceless moment worrying about all the other things that will happen on the day I die, because many of those things are either not my concern or beyond my control.
Friends, those other things have an insidious way of keeping you from living even as you live; vying for your attention, competing for your affections.
They rob you of the joy of this unrepeatable, uncontainable, ever-evaporating Now with those who love you and want only to share it with you.
Don’t miss the chance to dance with them while you can.
It’s easy to waste so much daylight in the days before you die.
Don’t let your life be stolen every day, by all that you’ve been led to believe matters, because on the day you die—the fact is that much of it simply won’t.
Yes, you and I will die one day.
But before that day comes: let us live.
