April 11, 2021 – A piece of America died today with the passing of Tom Raab as he left his beloved Mercy Hospital for the last time attended by an escort of his family and so many of his bereaved friends. The large honor guard that gathered on the briefest of notice for this fitting final tribute reflected that this was not just another death among many during the pandemic. This was Tom slowly departing on his gurney with a large, framed picture of his family at his feet. Tom was the best of us.
There is no tangible way to measure or recapture even part of any person’s life and do it justice. For me 5 words, like the defining points of a star, orient my vision and remembrance of this man who has been my friend since we first became doctors and started our residencies together fresh from medical school.
Family. There was nothing Tom prized or valued more than his remarkable family. As he passed slowly down Mercy’s corridors, so many people stopped his wife and children to say just that – Tom was always talking about his family and they were his pride and joy, and truly what he lived for.
Joy. If you knew Tom, you understand what “Tom Joy” was like. He was the party organizer. He had the biggest smile in the room. He made everyone feel welcome and comfortable regardless of who they were. He was the coach, organizer, pitcher and force behind his much-loved “Cardiac Kids” – a terrible softball team whose rotating cast of mostly non-athletes played together and enjoyed each other’s camaraderie under his leadership for decades. You just could not be around him without feeling better from the exposure. In his many years at Mercy, I never heard anyone calling him “Dr. Raab” despite his titles and preeminence. He was always – by his insistence – “Tom” but for a few of us he was our buddy, Tommie.
Teacher. Mentor, supporter, educator. Most everyone knows Tom’s long and illustrious career teaching students and residents. Sometimes with knowledge and always by example. He personally mentored many professionals not just physicians in training. His reach is everywhere in Catholic Health. Everyone at Mercy has seen or heard of the legendary “Raab rounds”, the daily review of every patient to look critically at why they were there and what was happening with their care – the retinue always led by the brilliant professor in his white coat with his laser-like focus.
Moral compass. Tom quite simply knew right from wrong, proper from expedient. His deeply felt religious beliefs, his unsullied personal values, and his advanced education and life-long learning provided him with a resolute vision. He could see black and white where so many others could only see disparate shades of gray. If you wanted to know what True North was, you only had to follow Tom. This was fundamental to him being such a passionate patient advocate. He constantly preached that what was best for a patient’s care was always the right thing to do, and that is how you began your understanding of the quality of medical care. Even in death, as corridors near the Emergency Room in Mercy were being closed off to accommodate the crowds who had come to honor Tom one last time, his close friend Tim Gabryel assured everyone that patients were being re-routed seamlessly and no one would be impacted by our presence or “Tom would have our heads” for doing otherwise. Checking our decisions even after he’s gone. That’s Tom.
Unbreakable. Hard to describe someone who dies as unbreakable. But he was. Despite his remarkable professional and personal accomplishments, Tom confronted many giant challenges. Big ones and a lot of them – both personal and professional. Few of us could come through even a few of these battles unbowed or unaltered, however when talking to Tom you would believe that he never had a bad day in his life. I witnessed his boundless resilience with awe and disbelief as he would bounce back from every single obstacle he faced. It defies my mere mortal understanding how he became stronger and more fulfilled with every struggle, every illness, every setback that he overcame. I could not have done that – not even close.
Just like an overwritten scene from a bad novel, today Sunday April 11 began as a cloudy, rainy transformation from yesterday’s sunshine and exuberance. Almost as if our inner and outer environments were coordinating their pathos. Today the world is a lesser place than it was yesterday. We lost a real leader, a true and honest soul who lived and loved in a way that we needed, and that we had – but no more. We must content ourselves now simply with knowing that we are all better because this man made us so for almost 70 years. The world lost one of its best today. Goodbye Tommie, my friend.
