The Eulogy for Thomas Eugene Fulton
Everyone who knew Toms knows he was a man of honor and integrity and a recognized LGBTQ advocate.
His death was unexpected, his health declined from what appeared to be perfect health to complete collapse of body and mind in less than three weeks. When the diagnosis of stage 4 cancer was told to us, we vowed to fight. “Tom will win” is what we repeated daily.
But deep in my heart, I knew this light was fading.
Out in our garden, a few days before Tom’s passing, I saw the largest Monarch Butterfly I’d ever observed. It fluttered around me then landed on an orange marigold Tom had planted. It remained there; it’s glinting bright orange and black speckled wings opening and closing long enough for me to take pictures to show Tom—with orange being Tom’s favorite color the monarch was his favorite butterfly.
I now know this was a magnificent sign from the angels: Tom was making his transition to join the host of heaven and there was nothing either of us, nor the best medical community in the world could do to alter this.
They say a funeral is not for those who have passed but for the living, those of us who loved and admired Tom. But I now disagree. Through this experience, through watching my husband’s heroic effort to fight this monster called cancer until nearly the very end--an end when he, when we surrendered to God’s will for Tom.
So, like a posthumous Medal of Honor recipient, this day, these hours of farewell are to honor Thomas Eugene Patrick Fulton.
My Love, I hope I do you well by this eulogy. I can tell you this, my dearest husband, that as a writer of many stories, this my Love is by far the most difficult thing I have or will ever compose.
So, let’s start with looking at Tom’s life.
When asked where he was “from’ Tom was famous for saying “I was born in Ohio, but I moved to Tucson when I was two years old because it was too cold.”
In the Saguaro cactus dominated landscape of Tucson, Tom thrived. Even as a little child, his love for God was event as he regularly told his family how much he loved God. And something else began to develop. Tom’s treating all equally. His best friend was a kid who was made fun of at school because he had to carry a colonoscopy bag. Something Tom only mentioned to me later because it didn’t matter to him. Tom’s friend was his buddy and the colonoscopy bag was just something he needed.
This commitment to treating all equally, became more evident when in college Tom came out to his family—in 1975! He was not going to hide who he was and his family would have to love him no matter what—and they did. From that point forward, Tom never once denied who he was—demanding that people treat him as equally as he treated others.
So began Tom’s LGBTQ advocacy work. The first protest he led was while he was in college at the University of Arizona.
A crowd of misguided anti-Gay people had attempted to stop a Pride event on the campus. The ringleader of the crowd “a boisterous lady” as Tom described her, was spewing such hatred that others gathered with Tom to celebrate Pride were visibly shaken.
It was at this moment my husband, the future LGBTQ advocate who would eventually be broadcast around the world and quoted in nearly every media outlet from CBS News to the BBC, took a stand and moved onto the battlefield of human rights that would define the rest of his life.
Tom walked up to this shouting person, and he told me he only felt sorrow for her.
“Instead of yelling back, I started singing ‘Love, Love, Christians this is your call. Love others as yourself. God loves all.”
He told me, "It shut her down” and it changed Tom’s life.
It was because of that moment, that stand for equality, that many in the LGBTQ community knew Tom Fulton, the man who was the first openly Gay liaisons for the Los Angeles City Council back in the mid-1980s, the man who during those dark times during the AIDS crisis, would speak to the Los Angeles Police Department to stop them being so homophobic, or the man who raised hundreds of thousands of dollars for HIV research—to mention just some of his advocacy work.
Tom’s non-violent and peaceful approach to protest is summed up in this statement he would often repeat “I want a seat at the banquet table. I don’t want to burn down the banquet hall.”
When later in our careers we moved from LA to Washington, DC, then Mayor Fenty, appointed Tom to serve on the DC Human Rights Commission where he regularly defended those who were being discriminated against—from all communities and backgrounds.
And, as the first openly Gay elected Area Neighborhood Commissioner of the Bloomingdale neighborhood of DC, Tom regularly advocated the concerns and needs of the residents who had overwhelming elected him to do so. This included regular trash and graffiti removals and bumped up Neighborhood Watch participation which resulted in lower crime rates in Bloomingdale. Something Tom was rightfully very proud of!
Eventually taking a job with the City of Washington, DC, Tom headed up many LGBTQ events including Pride parade participation and interacting with the public during Pride festivals.
Those were some of the highlights of Tom’s public life, the guy a dear friend of ours referred to as Fighter Fulton!
But his private life with me revealed a much more vulnerable and sensitive man. His commitment to our marriage was unwavering.
We were “the bunnies” and our relationship never took a backseat to any of Tom’s advocacy work.
I think perhaps one of the easiest ways I can express his commitment to us is that for more than 26 years together, I never doubted Tom’s love me. Ever.
While in his last hours, as he lay slowly dying, a nurse named Jess, who I can only describe as angelic in her care, concern and treatment for Tom asked him what the secret was to a lasting 26-year love affair, he told her, “Love, forgiveness, compassion and compromise.”
This would be Tom’s last coherent conversation as shortly thereafter the cancer killing him was slowly shutting down his brain.
Jess wrote this to me after Tom’s passing: "It was an honor to care for you and Tom through the hardest moments life can throw. Witnessing the purity of your love for Tom, and his for you. He was beaming even though his symptoms when I asked him what the secret of your 26-year marriage was. To see what a beautiful life you both created together and hearing about the homophobia you both encountered and fought against over the years, I can’t help but be so grateful for the fight you both fought and still fight.
There is no way a world could exist where I can come out at 26 years old so confident that I would be alright without the road you and Tom bulldozed through and paved so beautifully.
So, thank you from the bottom of my heart. You and Tom have taken care of generations beneath you in our community, and I felt so honored to give back to you both and to care for Tom in his last days. His work and battles don’t go unseen, unappreciated or unfelt. What a light Tom will be and already is for the unfairly persecuted."
As Tom faded, the last word he said was to me was after I had gone home for a few hours to water the many beautiful flowers Tom so lovingly planted every year. Coming back into his hospital room, I kissed him and said, “I’ve watered the flowers” and he said, pulling on what strength he could, a breathy “Hi”.
When two days later, Tom did finally make his transition to Eternity, as I held his lifeless body in my arms I whispered to him “This is not goodbye. This is hi. It will always be hi for us.
When I look at your picture in the morning,
When I see a monarch butterfly flutter by,
When I visit the places we loved so much,
And when I join you in heaven it will be hi.”
I Will Never Stop Loving You, My Beloved Husband
