I spent yesterday saying goodbye to a great man. I've spent the time since wondering how I can be more like him.
Thomas "Tod" McGrath was my grandmother's brother. As the youngest of six, Tod was the prototypical "fun loving" member of the family. He didn't stand on ceremony or take himself or other people too seriously. His father died when Tod was young, so he learned the value of hard work quickly and developed a self-sufficiency which served him well his whole life. When his brothers also died at relatively young ages, he was an emotional support to their children as well as his own. When his sisters tried to "mother" him, he'd laugh and (very politely and respectfully) wave them off. He had a fullness of spirit that was joyfully infectious, and was someone you just wanted to be around.
The best part of Tod, though, was his leadership. It wasn't the Patton-type of leadership that you'd feel beaten over the head with. It was a quiet, matter-of-fact leadership that seemed much more attainable, even though it was so ingrained in everything he did he made it look effortless. Whether being a dad to his five kids, having employees while running his own truck stop, being an employee working for his nephews' business, or volunteering at his church and in other communities, he was the example you wanted to follow. If he was set a task, you never for a second thought it wouldn't be done and done well. So if he set you a task, you wanted to meet that same standard ... not because of fear of what would happen if you didn't, but because you didn't want to disappoint him. He inspired a loyalty in you that remained strong even if circumstance moved him out of your immediate orbit.
Tod had a great sense of humor perfectly balanced against a zero tolerance for bullshit. His "confessional" in his office at Kean Brothers was a place for people to get much-needed friendly advice and well-deserved calling outs, sometimes within the same minute. But whichever you received, you always knew it was being delivered with your best interest at heart. There was no CYA in Tod's life, personal or professional. He was more interested in others than he was in himself, and it showed every minute you spent with him.
In my 43 years, Tod was a great-uncle, boss, co-worker, and back again, and in that time he taught me a number of lessons about responsibility to self and others, priorities, and faith. Lately, I've been bad at putting those lessons into practice. I've gotten lazy about some things. I've let events influence me rather than the other way around. I've gotten better at using excuses than using what God's given me.
In earlier days, I'd be in the "confessional" getting straightened out. But it's not earlier days, and it's up to me to put what he taught me into practice, just as it is for everyone else whose lives he touched. When you lose someone like Tod, your life is poorer only if you allow the influence he had on you to wane. The "confessional" in his office is closed. The ones in our minds and hearts remain open, and you're a fool if you don't use it.
The last time Tod was at our house, he told me what a wonderful family I had and what a lucky person I was. While I thanked him for saying so, inside, I didn't feel very lucky. But as I see now, I was, and I am, and I need to be a lot better at recognizing it. The only way I'm unlucky is I can't thank him in person today for not only imparting the lessons in the first place but reminding me about the need to put them into practice.
So I'll say it here. Thanks for everything, Uncle T. I'll miss you.
