I was humbled and honored to be invited to eulogize my forever mentor, Tom (Thomas Michael), Farace. You can find an essay on Tom and his impact and significance here.

It was one of the most important assignments I’ve ever had and I wanted to show up with as much love, confidence, and steadiness as I possibly could. Only three people eulogized Tom at his celebration of life. His eldest son, Michael, his best friend, Steve Warner, and me.

*Beloved friends and family. Steve Warner, most right.*

I stood in front of his friends and family, some of whom flew in from different states to pay their respects, and delivered what was hopefully, ultimately comforting, that this man lived a full and solid life filled with joy and hope and tenacity.

For those who couldn’t make the celebration of life, I share the eulogy with you. You can watch it here or read it below. The You Tube link records the entire service. The audio is faint, but you certainly get a sense of the love.

Beloved friends and family,

While I am heartbroken that we are meeting here this way, I am so glad that we are here, elbow to elbow, honoring the life of a man who shaped each of our lives.

My name is Catia, Cat – and while I will share a small piece of my experience with Tom and not doubt a sliver of his life with you - I know what connects us all is that we loved Tom and he was a blessing to each of us.

This is no ordinary life we reflect on today; it’s as fulfilling and joy-filled a life a human can live. Tom imbued joy, wisdom, rage, infectious laughter, and, above all, generosity. There is a word not used very often these days, but Tom used it every day. Grand. He was a grand man who led a grand life and, like a pied piper, invited us to do the same.

· Imagine needing a wise friend to talk to and having someone to call, and then actually listening.

· Imagine asking your boss for two weeks off so that you can take care of your ailing mother, and him saying yes without blinking.

· Imagine knowing how you should be making better decisions and getting the look from your friend, but no words.

· Imagine a friend giving you the opportunity – over and over – to work hard and prove yourself so that the confidence you built would be unshakable and yours.

· Imagine going through a divorce, your friend asking how he could help, and then delivering on that help.

· Imagine your friend showing up at your bedside as you’re dying from the effects of alcoholism.

· Imagine your friend embodying a mysterious mix of high standards, encouragement, fun, and hard work.

· Imagine meeting a man on the pickleball courts and wanting to play with him every time because you laughed so much.

· Imagine your friend loving you so well through each season of your life that it lifted you up and made you reach for excellence.

None of us has to imagine it; we experienced it in Tom.

—

I want to share a poem Tom sent to me on the eve of becoming a mother.

Ithaka

As you set out for Ithaka

hope your road is a long one,

full of adventure, full of discovery.

Laistrygonians, Cyclops,

angry Poseidon—don’t be afraid of them:

you’ll never find things like that on your way

as long as you keep your thoughts raised high,

as long as a rare excitement

stirs your spirit and your body.

Laistrygonians, Cyclops,

wild Poseidon—you won’t encounter them

unless you bring them along inside your soul,

unless your soul sets them up in front of you.

Hope your road is a long one.

May there be many summer mornings when,

with what pleasure, what joy,

you enter harbors you’re seeing for the first time;

may you stop at Phoenician trading stations

to buy fine things,

mother of pearl and coral, amber and ebony,

sensual perfume of every kind—

as many sensual perfumes as you can;

and may you visit many Egyptian cities

to learn and go on learning from their scholars.

Keep Ithaka always in your mind.

Arriving there is what you’re destined for.

But don’t hurry the journey at all.

Better if it lasts for years,

so you’re old by the time you reach the island,

wealthy with all you’ve gained on the way,

not expecting Ithaka to make you rich.

Ithaka gave you the marvelous journey.

Without her you wouldn't have set out.

She has nothing left to give you now.

And if you find her poor, Ithaka won’t have fooled you.

Wise as you will have become, so full of experience,

you’ll have understood by then what these Ithakas mean.

--

Tom’s road wasn’t as long as we would have liked – but it was full of riches, wisdom, depth and experiences.

I was 19 when I met Tom Farace. During college, I worked part-time as a hostess at Eddie V’s under Tom. I worked for him on three different occasions, moving cities twice to learn from him. He was my mentor, friend and guiding light for 25 years.

I listened, watched, and learned from Tom every night. How he motivated staff, made it fun, and brought us together. How he connected with everyone from Shorty (our chief bus person), to Rambo (a line cook), to Steve Warner (our Chef), and to me, a college kid who worked 15 hours a week and got paid an hourly wage - I was always amazed. We all worked FOR Tom, and he worked with us. He was our captain. As Brandon Herzog says, O Captain, my captain.

He taught me how to empathize and own our mistakes, how to approach each day with, “opening day,” energy and how to be hospitable.

I worked at Eddie V's until I graduated from UT and went off to the University of Houston to get a masters in Hotel and Restaurant Management. Tom wrote one of my letters of recommendation. I still have it.

While I lived and studied and bartended my way through graduate school in Houston, Tom and I stayed in touch. We always knew I'd go back and manage Eddie V's.

When I graduated, I went right back to Austin. There was no interview; there was only a contract. Tom hired me to manage Eddie V's Downtown. I signed my contract, got handed the keys to a multi-million-dollar business, and we were off to the races.

I made friends, ran shifts, hired and fired, bought supplies, showed up early, stayed late, and swirled in fun – every single night. I adored my job. I made the best friends, made inappropriate jokes that I would only ever say to my restaurant people, and stayed up late every night. Tom taught me how to lead, speak with staff, and maintain high standards. We would eat oranges and pizza and drink coffee together. He would say, "Catia, to be good, you have to learn how to run faster and jump higher. The staff will only follow you if you lead by example," and so I did.

He trusted me to keep the restaurant thriving, and I took that trust seriously.

That experience lasted a few years, and then life took us different directions for a period. But in 2011 I would join Tom again – this time opening ACL-Live, a music theatre venue in downtown Austin. The venue sat 3,000 guests, and I was in charge of the bars. 12 bars spread across three floors and filled to the brim with amazing staff.

He never doubted me, always believed in me, and always gave me space to be creative and fly. And in return, I showed up in excellence. He was the owner, and I was the manager – and I did exactly as I was supposed to. I was always running faster and jumping higher. We set audacious sales goals and crossed them off our list. We hired and fired, we danced, we laughed, and we shook hands and kissed babies. We hosted people and made them feel like royalty – and they felt welcome and good every moment they were in the venue.

Tom and I were part of the team that hosted Bruce Springsteen, Jay Z, Aretha Franklin, Florence and the Machine, Imagine Dragons, Jack White, John Legend – hundreds of artists. We handled crisis together (a stage hand having a heart attack, a staff member passing away from cirrhosis of the liver, his mom passing away), and we also pet donkies and horses that were part of shows, talked to Gary Clark and his parents, rode bikes inside the empty venue, tap danced in tennis shoes after work shifts – and always – the jokes. The jokes were tippy top.

I worked with Tom for two years at ACL-Live, fell in love with my now-husband, and eventually gave my notice at ACL-Live. It’s hard to start a family when you go to work at 3pm and get home at 3am. And when my last day came, it was so hard to say goodbye.

From 2013 on, Tom and I remained incredibly close. He wrote me letters and cheered me on as I became a mom and a trauma therapist. And, I cheered him on as he grew his business and loved his growing family well.

No matter how much he cared for us, his colleagues and mentees — and he cared deeply — we all knew who came first. Carolyn, Michael, Richie, and soon Jennifer, Layla, Matthew, Chase, Michael, and Kinsley.

He adored you all. He talked about you all with pride that lit up his whole face. We gladly took second place. We were just grateful to be included in his orbit.

When I learned the news of Tom’s passing, my heart broke, as yours did too.

I spent thousands of waking hours and hundreds of evenings with Tom, learning from him, working hard with him, and sharpening my comedic skills just to make him laugh. If I could get Tom to laugh, I knew I had accomplished something.

He was a giant. He was a father figure. He was a guiding light in my life for 25 years. He was the definition of secure love. He stayed steady, offering us mentor-like love and a job whenever and wherever we needed it. I knew I always had Tom. And he knew he always had me.

Thomas Michael Farace, an Italian from Brooklyn, a cook, a Chef, and a manager, an entrepreneur, a leader, a funny guy, a dancer, a writer, a pickleball player, a philosopher, a devoted husband, dad, and grandpa.

I loved him for 25 years and will hold him in my heart always.

I’ll leave you with this story. Several years ago, Tom and I were at a memorial service for a friend and colleague, Roger Hernandez. I hadn’t seen Tom in a while, and so I shared some good news about my kiddos. Immediately, I felt bad about feeling joy. What was I thinking? Sharing something good at a memorial service?

Tom took a moment, grabbed my arm to make sure I was paying attention, and said, “Catia, that is life. You’ve got to feel the good. Tough days and tragedies will always come. You’ve got to learn to feel the good also, even when your heart is breaking.” He gave me permission to hold both.

So today, as we honor him, let’s honor what he taught us:

To hold joy and sorrow together.
To laugh when things are hard.
To hug each other often.

To wear gold rings.
To show up for people in practical, thoughtful ways.
To live fully — not halfway.
To be someone’s guiding light.

Let’s go eat oranges, make pasta, bake cookies.
Let’s pour into the people we love most.
Let’s pour into each other.

This is how we continue his legacy — by living the way he showed us.

To keep his memory in our hearts we started a Facebook page where you can share pictures and stories. Please join it here.

And please be on the lookout for a Farace’s place, in person gathering where we will share stories, good food, good drinks and fellowship. We will announce the date on Farace’s Place Facebook Page.

Farace’s Place, A Eulogy

Tom Farace, A Tribute