Something Missing

Unlike many of my fellow Vocal writers, I didn't know Tom Bradbury well.

I read his works, and we often interacted in the comments section of various Vocal-based Facebook groups. Tom always had something positive to say about things, whether that was praise for another writer's story, or just a kind remark to someone who was having a bad day.

Being Australian, I tend to operate on a different timezone to the majority of Europe, UK and North America-based vocal writers, unless I'm having a bad bout of insomnia.

As such, it was a shock to wake up, scroll through facebook while boiling the kettle, and be hit with the announcement of a death.

Tom and I might not have been close, but any death comes as a shock, especially if it's someone you know, however distantly. I took the day off work, and sat down to work out my feelings in pen and verse.

I’m Autistic; writing about how I feel helps me process my emotions without getting overwhelmed by them. Don’t judge.

I struggled to write this because I didn’t know Tom as well as many of my other Vocal writers, like Lesley or Melissa, did.

I looked forward to his Vocal Challenge critiques, and could always count on him saying something nice when I posted a new work. I loved the way he could invoke so much emotion with a single phrase. I loves his passion for whatever he set his mind to, from building a chicken run from scratch, to intriguing fictions stories.

Tom wrote a lot about his experiences, both everyday and out-of-the-ordinary. Tom sort of fell into farming, after buying a run-down mill in France, and had largely taught himself how to rear and herd sheep. It was one such story that won him second place in the A Day In The Life challenge.

Tom wrote about music he loved and recipes that he enjoyed making, from Tarte Tatin to dandelion lemonade, all written with self-deprecating, tongue-in-cheek humour, as if inviting the reader to share a laugh at the absurdity of life. Reading those Feast posts, I envisioned Tom as if we were sharing a kitchen together, exchanging cooking anecdotes to pass the time while waiting for dough to rise. In my mind's eye, I picture a sly grin, half-hidden behind a raised mug on a winter morning, a gleam in his eye that could be cheek, or just the sun reflecting off the snow blanketing the ground.

When writing fiction, Tom tended toward mystery and crime. He wrote both well, with twists and surprises that I could only follow eagerly, like a puppy chasing its tail or a cat with a laser pointer, delighting less in the end than in the pursuit.

Tom posted often in the Vocal Facebook Groups about his writing progress and goals, and his thought process was fascinating to read. He was upfront about his struggles, and the impatience of waiting for a story to be approved when all you want is to share it with the world. I could relate to his enjoyment of Vocal as a place to get the weird thoughts in his head out into the open, for both fun and profit. I felt seen and heard, even validated, when he echoed my opinions and occasional frustrations with the Challenge judging process and his suggestions for how to improve it.

I didn't know Tom Bradbury well, but this is how I will choose to remember him: as a man who was open and unapologetic, yet did his best to improve the lives around him, even if those lives were half a world away.

I extend my deepest condolences and best wishes to Tom's family. May his memory be a blessing to all who knew him.

UPDATE: Tom and I interacted most during the two months of the SFS. When I flouted the possibility of turning my mini-series of short stories into an ebook. In his memory, I will be doing so, and donating the first month of royalties to Andy's Man Club, a suicide prevention charity, in Tom's memory. You can pre-order here.