One Final ‘Attaboy’
When your phone buzzes with a text on a holiday weekend, in the middle of the night, you know it’s never good news. I already had a 5am alarm set to get up for a golf tournament in Myrtle Beach (where we’re on vacation), that was early enough of a disturbance. At 1:08 I got word that one of the most special people in my life was not going to make it through the night.
Tom Balliet was a friend, a mentor, a traveling companion, a golf partner, and a fine connoisseur of vodka cocktails. He was also like a second father figure in my life for the last 27 years, and now he’s gone.
I’ve been struggling with how to write about all this man meant to me, all he did for me and my family. There’s just not enough time or space here. That being said, this picture from last fall and the exchange surrounding it, reminds me of the most important.
When we moved to Augusta, Georgia to work for “Kicks 99” in the mid 1990s, my wife and I had no family within 1000 miles. I met Tom through playing golf and he and his wife, Brenda, basically adopted us. They had 4 boys, and I was honored to feel as if I was the “5th son.” By the time our Hogan was born in September of 2001, they were integral fabric in our lives. We’d had countless dinners, gatherings, and adventures together all over the world.
Now back to that whole “time our son Hogan was born” thing. On September 26, 2001, my wife was about 7 months pregnant and went in for her scheduled doctor’s appointment. We didn’t realize that things were heading south, quickly. Her blood pressure was out of control and both she and the baby were in jeopardy. Immediately, she was admitted to the hospital and all sorts of medications were administered to try to stabilize the situation. The next day, her OBGYN came by the hospital room and in the most laid back, sweetest manner, looked at us and said, “You know what? I think he just needs to come out.” The way he said it was so calm and matter of fact, and put us so at ease, that it never occurred to either of us that our son was going to be born two months early and this was not a good thing.
I put on my daddy scrubs and as they wheeled Debbie into the waiting operating room, I was casually and dutifully walking right behind. That’s when the doctor turned to me and got real. Quick. He put his hand on my chest and said, “Son, I’m 30 minutes from losing them both, I’ll let you know if and when you can come in.” My heart stopped. My whole world just got wheeled away and I was alone. I didn’t know what to do. So, after I called my and my wife’s family in Texas, I called Tom at his office. I told him the situation and asked him to think good thoughts for the next hour or so. I hung up the phone.
Hogan Charles Nance was born by emergency C-section around lunch time on September 27, 2001. He weighed 2 pounds, 4 ounces. In what I came to later find out was an unprecedented move, the doctor and nurses allowed me to carry my son from the delivery room to the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (where all pre-mature babies go). I expected it to just be me and my boy. Again, we had no family anywhere near us. However, when we emerged, there was Tom Balliet. His arms were open, and his smile was a mile wide. Tom greeted me with his trademark, Charleston Geechee, “Attaboy!” He was the first person I ever got to introduce my son to. There could not have been anyone better.
Early days in an Augusta NICU
Tom Balliet was there for me and my family then. He was there for me and my family always. Tom was one of one. I will miss him and his presence every day for the rest of my life.
One thing that fortunately I do not have are any regrets about words left unsaid. There was never a message or call that did not end with “I love you” from both of us. I cannot tell you how important that is to remember with those you love. Never miss an opportunity to tell the people in your life how much they mean to you. None of us is promised tomorrow. And when that tomorrow doesn’t come, your heart has peace knowing all that needed to be expressed, has.
Farewell, Pops. I know where you are there is no more pain, the fairways are green, the sun is shining, and vodka/grapefruit juice is always available from the cart girls. I know there are “Attaboys” being handed out right and left to those who’ve been waiting. Oh, and one day, make sure we’ve got a tee time and there’s a place in the golf cart next to you.
