The air up there in the clouds is very pure and fine, bracing and delicious. And why shouldn't it be? — it is the same the angels breathe.
— Mark Twain, Roughing It, Chapter XXII, 1886.
Sometimes we just can’t find the words. Sometimes there are too many words and noises all around that they do not allow us to hear and say what is truly important.
The moment we learned about Tomas, we all knew there would not be enough words to describe what pain we feel and how we cannot believe what the reality is. And at the same time, we wanted to remain dignified and quiet to allow us to remember Tomas the way that was special for every single one of us.
For some, he was the closest member of the family, for another he was the best pilot, for others he was the opinion leader to follow and yet still, for many, he was the guy who gifted people the skill and passion for flying.
All the friends who knew him were always joking when Tomas disappeared in a thermal that he was born with wings.
Now he has become at one with them. We might remember him the way we want, the way that is best for us and the way which is unique.
Because, that was Tomas, unique in all what he did.
