Thomas S. Flynn
Thomas S. Flynn, 86, Retired CPD; of LaGrange; beloved husband of the late Joan Flynn nee Kirby; loving father of the late Tom, CPD (Linda nee Horras) Flynn, Dan (Renee nee Broderick) Flynn, Peggy (John) Roeske, Maureen (Steve) Campbell, & Tim Flynn; dearest grandfather of Elizabeth, Tim, & Tom Flynn, Jack & Lilly Flynn, Michael & Maggie Roeske, the late Daniel, Annie, & Katie Campbell. Loving son of the late Michael Flynn and MaryEllen Flynn (Lydon); fond brother of the late Mary (late Bud) Salisbury, late John Flynn, late Rev. Dr. Michael Flynn, O. Carm., late James (Nancy), Patrick (Ann) Flynn, Robert (Mary) Flynn, Daniel (late Lois) Flynn, the late Sheila (Dominick) Marsiglio, the late Kathleen Lynch (nee Flynn) and the late Shanner Lynch; he is survived by many loving nieces, nephews and friends.
A visitation will be held Friday, May 23 at St. Francis Xavier Church in LaGrange from 10am until time of Mass at 11am. Interment private. In lieu of flowers, donations can be made in Tom’s name to the Chicago Police Memorial Foundation at www.cpdmemorial.org or via mail at 1407 W. Washington, Chicago, Il. 60607.
In Tom’s younger years he enjoyed playing softball, bowling and loved all dogs. He met Joan Kirby and fell head over heels. He was a devoted husband and loving father. He spoiled all 10 grandchildren and cherished being the #1 babysitter. His adult life revolved around his family. He’d be the first to arrive at a family gathering and the last to leave. He enjoyed food, especially sweets, and spending time with his family. Call him anything but late for a meal. He served his country as a US Army veteran and the city of Chicago with a distinguished career as a Chicago Police Officer for 35 years 10 months and 3 days. Tom will be deeply missed.
Arrangements entrusted to Hallowell & James Funeral Home, Countryside. Funeral info: 708-352-6500
I had the pleasure to serve with Tom for 22 years, he was a good Police Officer and a great man. He will be missed. Rest In Peace Tom.
Dave,
Thanks for your kind words and condolences.
Maureen Campbell
Tom,
I enjoyed the time we shared at Aspired Living-Lagrange.
You were truly a breath of fresh air.
I enjoyed listening to the memories and stories you shared with me while working for CPD.
I pray that you lay in heaven peacefully!
LeVita- Nurse
Levita – thank you for your kind words and for taking such GREAT care of my Dad. He talked about you a lot.
We miss him so much.
Maureen
Tom sat by the piano at 5:00 mass on Saturdays at St. Francis for many years where I had the pleasure of chatting with him before mass. A gracious, friendly, kind man. Never counted my mistakes on the piano. God bless. Ann from St. Francis.
Ann,
Thanks for your kind words and condolences. He loved attending mass every week and seeing you.
Maureen Campbell
My Uncle Tommy always treated me as one of his own. On October 17th of each year, he would phone me and wish me a happy birthday. He’d then regale me with the tale of how on October 17, 1960, having just been discharged from the army and not yet gainfully employed, he trekked over to Mercy Hospital, in my Dad’s stead to pick up my Mom and I, taking me home to Canaryville for the very first time. As he wheeled my mother to the car, the nurses yelled, “See you next year!” and a bemused Tommy simply smiled, choosing not to contradict them.
For the rest of my life he kept tabs on me.
When my father Jimmy, passed away in 1973 when I was twelve, Tom made a point of taking me to Blackhawks games and White Sox games and even up to Tagler’s on 47th Street to watch Bears games on a Sunday afternoon, just as Dad use to do. A week after my Dad passed, he stood behind me as my confirmation sponsor. When I attended St. Rita in my first year of high school he would call the house and tell me that instead of transferring at Pulaski and making my way home at the end of the day, I could just continue west on the sixty-third street bus and get off at Mayfield and have dinner with he, Joan and his ever-expanding brood. When I gave a guitar recital at Curie High School in my senior year, Tommy was in the audience.
Tommy was about the same age as me when his father Michael passed in 1952. At the time, Tommy was in La Rabida Hospital for the fourth time in four years with rheumatic fever and his father came to visit him. Grandpa Flynn kissed him on the forehead and departed down the hallway, but he was back in a moment.
“Tom, I forgot me’ hat.” he said, grabbing it from a nearby table where he’d placed it and then walked into the night.
Tommy never saw him again.
He knew what it meant to lose a father at a young age and remained determined to do what he could to help fill the void.
I remain eternally grateful.
I remember working innumerable jobs in my teenage years which required that I be out past curfew. One of the jobs was working overnights at a gas station called Tony’s Oasis on the corner of 47th and Sawyer, just off Kedzie. At Tommy’s behest, a squad would arrive every couple of hours, circle the drive, wave to me and be on his way back east. Of course, I still got robbed occassionally, but I’d like to think that the extra attention from Chicago’s finest mitigated the frequency to some degree.
When I was divorced and raising two kids on my own, Tommy would invite me over to the house on Narraganset and escort me to the basement where he’d fill up a couple of shopping bags with various cuts of meat, blocks of cheese and other staples from Southwater Market on his beat on the near west side. And, while we may have been poor, we were never hungry, in part thanks to Tommy.
In recent years, I’d bike out to LaGrange to buy him lunch at Blueberry Hill and it was always a great time, though he was forever trying to pull the check away from me He would eat heartily and take soup home with him. It became more challenging as the years went by. The last time we went we drove the one block to the restaurant because he was afraid that he might fall on the journey. I told him that I would pick him up, but he was having none of it. If nothing else, he was a safety-first type of guy. I used to marvel at the number of padlocks he had on his front and back doors. I guess if you’re a Chicago cop for decades you see the pitfalls of having a less than secure house.
This upcoming October 17th, I will turn 65 and I’ll wait for a phone call that will not come. Though his life was long and productive and his health frail at best near the end, I’m finding it difficult to wrap my head around the fact that he’s gone.
I mean, he was always there y’know?
I still haven’t quite figured out what happens when you pass from this life. I’m going with the poet Percy Shelly – even if he is British, in operating under the notion that this is all a dream from which we will one day awaken:
Peace, peace! he is not dead, he doth not sleep–
He hath awakened from the dream of life–
‘Tis we, who lost in stormy visions, keep
With phantoms an unprofitable strife,
And in mad trance, strike with our spirit’s knife
You were a good uncle Tommy – but you were more than an uncle. You made a difference in my life. I will miss you. If you can, I’d appreciate it if you’d continue to send a squad car around from time to time just to make sure that I’m okay. Sleep well, and I’ll see you on the other side.
Michael L. Flynn