Thomas Janusz

The pages between your date of birth and date of death are your life. My father filled those pages, from his humble beginnings until his last breath, with unselfish devotion to his family, his friends, and his faith. My father, Thomas M. Janusz , Sr. was born on October 2nd, 1935 at 7845 South Woodlawn Avenue in the Pennytown section of the Grand Crossing/Avalon Park neighborhoods of Chicago. He was the seventh son of Polish immigrants, born three days after his father died. On that day, visitors moved from the parlor, where they viewed the body of my grandfather, to the back bedroom, where they welcomed my father into this world. His family endured tough times throughout the Great Depression and WWII. To keep the family together, his mother, Mary, worked at night, scrubbing floors at the People's Gas Light & Coke Company. Mary had to leave her youngest children to watch after each other, and being children, my father was often left at home alone to fend for himself. Like all of us, my father was shaped by the events of his childhood. My father lost his 13-year-old brother, Chester, to pneumonia when he was 18 months old. He witnessed his mother, a Polish-speaking immigrant, struggle to support her children, without assistance or relief. He watched his three older brothers Stash, Eddie, and Alex leave home to serve during WWII. All these things made my father who he was and scripted what he believed in--duty, honor, family, loyalty, and hard work. Later, when Stash and his wife Pauline were married, my dad found a father figure in his older brother and a second mother in Pauline. This heritage of family and duty was returned when my father became a role-model to Stash's children when Stash died unexpectedly at age 44. It is one of the ironies of life that our hardest times are often the most fondly remembered, and this held true for my father as well. Despite the family's struggles, my father shared stories of what he described as some of the best times of his life. Grand Crossing was a close community where people watched out for each other, and there were many kindnesses and many friendships. My parents met while attending Hirsh High School. My dad sat behind my mom in Spanish class. Truth be told, they did not like each other at the time. My dad would ask my mom to see her Spanish homework and she would hand it in to the teacher without letting my dad see it. It wasn’t until after graduation that their paths crossed again. My father had brought a date with him to a party. As they left, my dad offered to give my mom a ride home. She sat between my dad and his date in the front seat, and thus began their courtship. They married on October 6, 1956 at St. John De LaSalle church in Chicago’s Rosemoor neighborhood. After he put himself through mortuary school while working full time, they moved to 15732 S. Dobson Avenue in Dolton and began relationships with neighbors that remain good friends to this day. My parents began working towards starting their own funeral home. When the property at 158th and Cottage Grove became available, my parents sold their home on Dobson and set off on a journey that would guide the course of my family. My father’s best friend, Bob Devine, helped them financially to achieve their dream. Many talented friends and neighbors also helped my parents in building the funeral home. And in the midst of physically building their business, brick by brick, they began to build their family, raising two children. Despite the demands of the funeral home and countless hours of volunteer work, my parents were fully invested in their children, ever present in day-to-day activities and encouraging our personal interests. Words cannot describe what my father’s presence meant to me. My father’s faith was his bedrock. Forged in suffering and loss, Thomas Janusz was his faith. From the beginning, my father and mother became very involved with their parish, St. Jude the Apostle Church. My father was active in the Holy Name Society, Port-o-call, St. Jude Fest, 4th degree of K of C and many more. His very work was testament to his faith; as funeral director, he was practicing the Corporal Works of Mercy by burying the dead. And as the years passed and his body began to fail him, often with painful reminders of his frailty, he never abandoned his faith. And his belief that life was a gift from God guided his choices throughout his physical struggles. The one thing that has always bothered me as a funeral director is that the circumstances surrounding the end of life often overshadows one’s life. How a person died or the diseases that took that life do not define who that person was. Illness did not define my father’s life. Love defined his life. He is now free of all physical constraints. People like my father are the salt of the earth. He lived a long, good life with many accomplishments. He overcame many obstacles. Despite their challenges, my parents were able to start their own business, educate and provide a livelihood for many family members. There were many difficulties and disappointments, but their positive attitude always kept them going, working toward a goal. He always said that God was his co-pilot, and there is no doubt that God never left his side. My father had a special devotion to the Blessed Mother Mary and was carried home on the holy day The Immaculate Conception of the Blessed Virgin Mary. Truly, His eye is on the sparrow. We thank God for the difference Tom has made in our lives and being a part of Tom's journey. We carry his legacy as no one else can.