The Healing Journey

February 21, 2026

His laughter was our light

By Tom Matthews

A commitment to serve others is an admirable way to live one’s life. And to do so with humor and humility makes the impact of that work all the more remarkable.

This was the life of Tom Brown, my father-in-law who died on February 11, 2024 at 92 after bringing light, kindness and generosity into the lives of family, friends, colleagues, parishioners, teammates and even strangers in so many ways. He is missed by all these people, including me.

Tom Brown was the light by keeping it light, even under the most trying of circumstances. I can’t think of a time — no matter how serious the situation — when he didn’t provide a witty or humorous comment that lightened the mood, eased the tension or provided the proper amount of perspective.

During my time with the Brown family, often at their kitchen table, one of his kids (he and his wife Sheelah had nine children) would invariably poke fun at their father and remind him of a time when he made a mistake, such as forgetting to pick them up after school, failing to jump on a great investment opportunity or showing up late for an event.

“I zigged when I should have zagged,” he would say, acknowledging the miss on his part while at the same time signaling that life goes on and dwelling on missed opportunities wasn’t useful.

He began life in New York City, and even though he moved away to live across different tristate locations over the years, he never really left his birthplace. I remember being with him at a youth hockey practice for my son, where he was assisting me with the pads and skates. (Tom Brown was omnipresent when it came to lending a helping hand.) Another grandfather asked Tom where he was from, and he responded, “I live in Trumbull, but I’ll always be from the Bronx, babe.”

His childhood in 1930s and 40s New York City — where he played, worked and rascaled with his brothers — imbued Tom Brown with a sense of adventure and hope that never left him. He worked hard throughout his life, but was always up for a good time, and he wanted to include others in it. Maybe it was a last-minute excursion to his family’s farm in Canada. “If we leave by 10 tonight, we’ll be there for breakfast tomorrow morning.” Or, after an NYC holiday party, a late-night stop at a diner. “Great pancakes; we should go.” He brightened our days and nights on a regular basis.

Of course, as he aged, he slowed down a bit but was still present in all the right ways. On a weeknight, I’d look out the kitchen window and see his car in our driveway. Sheelah would arrive first at our door with Tom coming up behind her. Then, he would sit at our kitchen table, half-drinking a cup of coffee while sharing an assortment of stories — everything from a grandchild’s soccer game to a swag purchase for the next Sons of St. Joseph retreat. He laughed at his own jokes as he talked and we laughed, too.

Few people could show up unannounced on a school night in a household where both parents worked, children were struggling with homework, and a laundry machine full of athletic and academic uniforms was shaking and spinning, and still be welcome. Tom Brown could. Life always seemed a little lighter after time with him.

And now, life is undoubtedly a bit dimmer without him. We miss his laugh, his stories and his service. Still, as I’m sure he would point out, there is more fun to be had and more people to help, so let us be a light for others — through our own acts of love, kindness and generosity wherever we may go.
(Tom Matthews attends the Parish of St. Catherine of Siena in Trumbull. He is a business leader, writer and speaker.)

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