How do you honor your hero?
The person you’ve looked up to your entire life?
Your Example. Your Anchor. Your Stay.
Tom Prescott was a beacon of integrity, a man who embraced every moment and offered unwavering devotion to his beloved wife and cherished family. With an indomitable work ethic and an unyielding moral compass, he epitomized the virtues of a life well-lived.
He loved his country and served proudly in the United States Naval Corps, where he was deployed in 1983 to provide aid during the chaos of the Lebanese Civil War.
In the great outdoors, Tom reigned supreme, a master craftsman whose hands could create miracles and whose infectious laughter could light up even the darkest of days.
Pamela’s heart will forever ache with a void that could never be filled: the loss of a father so extraordinary.
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Thomas Tyler Prescott
February 4, 1962 – July 19, 2020
RIP
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Thursday, July 24, 2020
Fairfax, Maryland
Pamela made her way to the podium, the silence of the funeral home amplifying the soft sound of her footsteps on the thick carpet. Around her, sixty pairs of eyes – belonging to friends and family alike – watched intently. After a visible inhale, she sought to steady her nerves and quell the profound grief swirling within her. Can I do this? Clad in a sleek black blazer paired with a pristine white blouse, Pamela exuded an air of poise and obligation, the epitome of a devoted daughter. Yet beneath this façade, her heart throbbed with the pain of her father's passing.
As her younger sister, Candice, joined Pamela at the front of the memorial center, she felt a dash of moxie. This is for Dad; do it for him. The sisters had chosen to perform a spiritual duet, a variation of the classic hymn Goin' Home that held special meaning for the Prescott family. Though Pamela didn't consider herself much of a vocalist, Candice's presence gave her strength.
The hymn, initially composed by Czech musician Antonín Dvořák in 1893 and later adapted with lyrics by William Arms Fisher in 1922, filled the room as Pamela and Candice's voices intertwined. Their shared sorrow was laced in every word, each note a poignant tribute to the man who had shaped their lives.
Pamela never thought this day would come.
Tom's sudden passing gutted the family raw. Just a week ago, he had been his usual vibrant self, full of vigor and drive. But last Friday, everything changed – just like that.
It was late afternoon when Tom collapsed in the garden, his body crumpling to the ground like a marionette whose strings had been cut. Carol, his wife of thirty-six years, was by his side in a heartbeat. Panicked, she screamed for help, and a neighbor called 911.
Within minutes, paramedics arrived, their sirens piercing the tranquil neighborhood. They worked quickly to stabilize Tom, assessing his condition and preparing him for transport to the hospital. Carol rode in the ambulance as well, holding his hand and whispering words of prayer and encouragement.
Several miles away, Pamela received the devastating phone call from her other sister. Time seemed to stand still as Paula's words sank in. Sensing his wife’s distress, Colt’s strong, comforting presence enveloped Pamela as the gravity of the situation became crystal clear.
Together, Pamela and Colt raced to the hospital. They arrived to find Carol and the rest of the family huddled in the waiting room, their faces etched with worry. From there, it turned into an agonizing waiting game that stretched deep into the evening hours.
Doctors diagnosed Tom with a thrombotic stroke, the severity of which left little hope for recovery. They explained to the family that the damage to Tom's brain was extensive, and that he was unlikely to regain consciousness.
The Prescott clan held vigil at his bedside, a united front against the cruel hand of fate that threatened to tear their world asunder. The sterile hospital room became a sanctuary of sorts, the steady beep of the monitors and the woosh of the ventilator a constant reminder of the tenuous thread by which Tom’s life hung.
Carol never left his side, her hand clasped with his, and poured every ounce of her being into the belief that their love could somehow transcend the boundaries of life and death, and that through some divine intervention, Tom would find his way back to them.
As the sun set outside the hospital windows on Saturday evening, casting a warm, golden glow across the room, an eerie stillness descended upon the space. The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor gave way to a continuous, haunting tone, signaling the absence of life. Carol, Paula, Pamela, and Candice bore witness to Tom’s final moment. His chest rose and fell one last time, his body relaxing as his spirit slipped away, leaving behind the earthly confines that had once housed his soul.
And thus, their collective psyches shattered as they dealt with the loss of their patriarch.
As the final strains of Goin’ Home faded away, Pamela looked out at the faces of those in the funeral home to celebrate her father's life. Tears glistened on the cheeks of many, a testament to the indelible impact he had made on them. In that moment, Pamela knew that this musical tribute was the perfect way to honor her father's memory and the love he had given so freely.
Tom Prescott grew up in the tight-knit community of Willow Creek, Missouri, the second of four children. His father, a skilled mechanic, passed on his love of all things mechanical to Tom, who spent countless hours in the garage, learning the ins and outs of engines. At Willow Creek High, Tom was a star athlete, excelling in baseball and football. But it was his keen mind for machines that truly set him apart.
At eighteen, Tom enlisted in the Navy, eager to turn his passion into a career. As an Aviation Technician who worked on helicopters, he thrived, his natural talent and due diligence earning him the respect of his fellow sailors. In 1983, during the Lebanese Civil War, Tom was deployed to Beirut. There, he took a bullet to the shoulder during a skirmish with local militants. Despite the injury, Tom persevered, serving out his commitment until 1984.
Upon returning stateside, Tom married Carol, whom he met in 1980 outside Naval Air Station Patuxent River in St. Mary’s County, Maryland, and the couple settled in the suburbs of Baltimore. His love for her was evident in every aspect of their life together. Tom found great joy in being a Girl Dad, too, helping nurture Paula, Pamela, and Candice into the fine, upstanding young women they are today.
Though his love for mechanics never waned, Tom discovered a new passion after the military: caring for animals. He decided to combine this affection with his entrepreneurial spirit, opening an exotic pet store and supply shop. The store quickly became a local institution, known for its diverse selection, from rare dog and cat breeds to colorful birds and scaly reptiles. Tom was in his element, sharing his expertise with customers and doting on the shop's resident pets.
When he wasn't tending to his menagerie, Tom could be found exploring the great outdoors with his family. An avid nature enthusiast, he loved hiking through the Maryland wilderness, birdwatching, and capturing stunning photographs of the wildlife he encountered. His deep respect for the environment and all its living things was something he made sure to instill in his daughters. Tom advocated for stricter wildlife protection laws, too, attended town council meetings, and wrote letters to local representatives, believing that every creature deserved a chance at a happy, healthy life.
In his community, Tom coached youth sports teams, volunteered at the local food bank, and was always ready to lend a helping hand to those in need. His woodworking skills were put to good use, crafting birdhouses and feeders that he donated to local parks and nature reserves.
He was an avid sports fan as well, and a season ticket holder for the Baltimore Ravens football team.
Tom’s life was a beautiful tapestry woven with threads of compassion, integrity, and an unquenchable thirst for knowledge. He approached every challenge with a positive attitude and a determination to make a difference, no matter how small. Though he may be gone, Tom Prescott’s love, wisdom, and zest for life will live on in the hearts of those who were blessed to have known him.
As Pamela was about to step down from the podium, her eyes met Colt’s in the front row. She twisted her face and tried not to cry as memories of the countless ways Colt had been there for her, not just in the past several days, but throughout all their fourteen years together.
She remembered how, in the immediate aftermath of Tom's death, Colt shouldered the burden of planning the funeral. He made phone calls, coordinated with the mortuary, and handled the paperwork, all while providing a steady shoulder for Pamela to lean on. His efforts offered the family the space it needed to process their emotions and begin the difficult journey of healing.
Pamela's thoughts drifted to a particularly poignant moment they had shared, sitting together on the porch swing, a worn photo album spread across their laps. As they flipped through the pages, Colt listened attentively as Pamela recounted stories of her father's life. Even now, as she stood before the assembled mourners, Pamela could feel the warmth of Colt's love radiating from where he sat, a steady reminder that she was not alone.
As the service drew to a close, the officiant invited the attendees to share their respects with the family. One by one, they filed past the casket. Pamela stood beside her mother and Colt, her sisters and their respective spouses, graciously accepting the outpouring of condolences.
With each embrace and heartfelt word, Pamela sensed the finality of the moment settling in. This was the last time she would see her father’s physical form, the last opportunity to be in his presence before he was laid to rest. An overwhelming wave of grief washed over her, but Colt was there for his wife – as he always was – and comforted and held her in his arms.
As the last of the mourners dispersed, Pamela approached the coffin to say her own goodbye. “I love you, Daddy.” Her hand trembled as she clutched the polished wood. “Thank you for everything. I’ll miss you.”
Colt swung an arm around Pamela and guided her to the parking lot. Together, they made their way to the cemetery, where Tom would be buried alongside Carol’s parents.
The graveside service was brief but powerful. Pamela lost it completely, crying harder than ever before, when the military honor guard folded the American flag. Her cousin, Alex, Second Class Petty Officer in the United States Navy and enlisted as a SEAL, presented the flag to Carol with utmost reverence. The haunting notes of Taps, played by a bugler, echoed through the air. Pamela reminisced about all the instances Tom had told her about his stint in the Navy. He loved the fact that he served his country and never once regretted taking a bullet for it, either.
As the proceedings drew to a close, each attendee was given a single rose, either white or red, to place on the coffin. Friends and distant relatives approached first, laying their white roses on the lid, a symbol of the purity and innocence of the soul that had departed. The red roses followed, a testament to the deep love and passion that Tom had inspired in those closest to him. With trembling hands, Pamela took her turn, carefully placing her rose among the others, a final gesture of love and respect for the man who had been her guiding light.
Carol was the last to approach, her steps heavy with the weight of her grief. She put her rose atop the others, her fingers lingering on the petals as if to absorb their essence. In that moment, Pamela saw the depth of her mother's love for her husband, a bond that had endured the test of time and now, even the finality of death. As Carol stepped back, Pamela took her hand, a silent promise that they would face the future together, united in their love for the extraordinary man they had lost but whose memory would forever live on in their hearts.
Afterwards, the Prescott family and close friends gathered at Pamela and Colt’s home for the wake. The backyard had been transformed, featuring tables adorned with crisp white linens and beautiful floral arrangements. The aroma of freshly prepared food wafted through the air, a comforting blend of savory and sweet.
Guests mingled, sharing stories and memories of Tom over plates of homemade favorites. Carol’s famous potato salad, a dish that had been a staple at every family gathering, was a particular hit.
As the afternoon progressed, Pamela felt an increasing desire for solitude. Quietly excusing herself, she retreated to a hidden nook in the garden, where a bench lay tucked under the expansive canopy of an ancient oak. Settling onto the bench, she shut her eyes and took a cleansing breath, embracing the whisp of the summer breeze against her face.
Lost in a haze of grief and memories, Pamela sat motionless, oblivious to the world around her. The gentle rustling of leaves and distant murmur of voices faded into a muted backdrop, drowned out by the overwhelming weight of her loss. So consumed was she by her thoughts that the sound of footsteps approaching from behind went unnoticed, blending seamlessly into the white noise of her surroundings. It wasn't until a hauntingly familiar voice called out her name, shattering the silence like a thunderclap, that Pamela was jolted back to reality. She whipped around, her eyes wide with a mixture of shock and disbelief, as if the figure standing before her was nothing short of an apparition from another existence.
“Lindsay?”
There stood Pamela's former lover, her appearance haggard and travel-worn from the long journey, yet still managing to offer a kind, reassuring smile. The sight of Lindsay stirred up a tempest of emotions within Pamela – an overwhelming sense of relief and joy at her presence, intermingled with the anger and disappointment that had been raging in the wake of Lindsay's recent life choices. Pamela couldn't help but think back to the moment Lindsay had quit her job at the supermarket and came home in a wild tizzy, declaring the end of their throuple arrangement and the need for a new beginning. Even more unsettling was Lindsay's subsequent venture to Utah, a move that left Pamela grappling with feelings of betrayal and confusion, unable to comprehend the motivation behind Lindsay’s decision to travel thousands of miles away to prostitute herself to two dangerous men amid a global lockdown.
“Pamela, I’m so sorry. I just found out about your dad last night. I got here as fast as I could.”
Their past disagreements suddenly felt insignificant. Pamela rose to her feet and pulled Lindsay into a fierce embrace, holding her tight as if afraid she might disappear. Again. They clung to each other, tears gushing as they mourned the loss of the man who had been such an integral part of Pamela's life.
She pulled back, gazing into Lindsay’s eyes with a mixture of gratitude and still-lingering disapproval. “Thank you for being here, for being by my side. But I’ve been worried sick about you.”
Lindsay’s mouth bled into a frown as she brushed a tear from Pamela’s face. “I’ll always be here for you, just as you’ve always been there for me. No matter what. I know I’ve made some mistakes, and we have a lot to talk about. But I want you to know that I still love you, and I’m here to do anything I can to help you and Colt get through this.”
With commercial airline travel still impacted by the pandemic, Lindsay faced a daunting challenge in getting here from Portland, Oregon in time for the funeral. The earliest she could arrive, due to three extended layovers, would be tomorrow morning – a timeline that was simply unacceptable. Lindsay knew she needed to be here today, to stand by Pamela during this difficult time.
Desperate to find a solution, Lindsay had no choice but to call in a favor from a wealthy friend. With her heart in her throat, she explained the situation and the urgency of her need to be with Pamela. “She’s like a mother to me. She’s my best friend, and I love her. Please, help me.”
Within hours, a private, nonstop flight was chartered, with all of the expenses covered to ensure Lindsay would make it to Baltimore as soon as possible. But this seeming act of generosity was laced with an insidious ulterior motive. Mr. Phalen, Lindsay’s benefactor, had a reputation for his lascivious appetites and saw her desperation as an opportunity to exploit.
In exchange for his “kindness,” Mr. Phalen named his price – another three-day session with Lindsay in Utah that would commence in two weeks. The implication was clear – Lindsay’s body and her time were to be his, a sordid transaction disguised as compensation.
But the depths of depravity were only beginning to reveal themselves. As an additional condition, Lindsay would be required to accompany Mr. Phalen to the notorious BDSM club in Provo, where she would again be gang-banged for the perverse enjoyment of his lecherous business colleagues. “Just for old time’s sake,” he told her.
Agreeing to monthly trips to Salt Lake City through the end of the year, Lindsay was destined to endure the same taxing ordeal repeatedly. Setting aside the fact that Mr. Phalen had promised her generous compensation for each visit, Lindsay knew that her presence with Pamela today was paramount. Consequently, she signed away her dignity, knowing that the true compromise of the Devil’s bargain would not be counted in monetary gains, but in the slow erosion of her soul.
(((End of Chapter Thirty-Nine - to be continued)))
