Thomas

Thomas is tucked away in the brush on Highway 101, almost invisible in the often gray weather Oregon calls “Springtime”. I’d have missed him if I had looked down for a second because, as you can see, his descanso is blends in pretty well.

I’m always hopeful that when there is a name I might be able to learn something about what led to the memorial but no luck with Thomas. There were a few hits for his first name but nothing that matched the location. It’s not that it matters; I don’t need to know the stories … but I’m curious.

I can imagine the gathering that led to the rocks with little messages on them at the base of his cross. There were a dozen or more, all expressing sentiment regarding their relationship with Thomas and his passing.