If you wander into Bushwaller’s Pub (lovingly dubbed simply “the Pub,” by the staff and folks who frequent it) during happy hour on any day of the week, you’re likely to find a large group of people congregating around the far corner of the bar. From the outside looking in, you’d have a hard time believing that this eclectic group of characters would call each other friends, and that’s probably because most of the time we don’t. We call each other family. For a lot of us, the Pub has become a second home. It’s where we come together to celebrate each other’s joys, drown each other’s sorrows, and entertain each other during all the boring shit in between. In early June of 2018, it’s also where we all gathered to watch one of our own while he watched his favorite hockey team, the Washington Capitals, compete for the Stanley Cup.

Tom Severn, 69 year old Army Veteran, loving father, grandfather, and husband, Washington sports fan, and retired badass, has become as iconic to the Pub as the unique brass tap towers and instantly recognizable brown paneled ceiling. In between errands, Tom would pop in throughout the day, a giant container of pretzels or other bar snack under one arm to set aside for anyone who got the munchies. The unanimous favorite regular among our staff members, he would sometimes bring little gifts like a box of specialty chocolate or a scratch off ticket to brighten the day of whoever was working.

On any day shift at the Pub, you can expect to answer one question at least a few times: “Has Tom been in yet?” If he had, you could be sure the crossword in that day’s paper had been at least mostly finished, always in pencil. If you happened to catch him checking the answer key, he’d joke, “I’m not cheating. I’m confirming.”

It’s no secret to anyone who’s spent any time around Tom Severn why he’s so adored by everyone who meets him. He is quietly and effortlessly charming. Generous and thoughtful. And if I’m being honest, Tom is also hilariously, unapologetically, and endearingly grumpy. So when you’re fortunate enough to be the reason he cracks that sly smile or bursts into one of his booming, infectious laughs, it’s enough to make you feel like you just hit the damn lottery. Without uttering a single word, he can make you feel like the most special person in the room.

Our love for Tom, however, is no match for his love of the Washington Capitals (as evidenced by one look at his predominantly red, white, and navy blue wardrobe). Fresh out of the Army, he attended the very first Caps game ever and held season tickets for the next decade, beginning a forty four year ride-or-die devotion to the team. Season after season, Tom never wavered in his belief that the Caps would one day bring home the Stanley Cup. And because he is who he is, we all believed right along with him.

When the Caps made it to the finals this year I watched from behind the bar as his cautious optimism intensified with every win. Toward the end of that last game on June 7th, the energy radiating from Tom’s spot at the bar was palpable. People who normally wouldn’t care about the outcome one way or another were brimming over with joy. Posted up in his favorite seat, proudly sporting his Ovechkin jersey, eyes fixated in rapt attention on the game, Tom was seemingly unaware of the adoring crowd forming behind him. As everyone else’s excitement reached a fever pitch, he sat on his stool, quiet and focused, oblivious to everything but his beloved Caps.

The moment the Caps won the Cup

When the final buzzer sounded, relief washed over him. He leapt out of his seat, cheering wildly, arms raised above his head as though he was hoisting the Cup himself. Forty four years of bitter disappointment and heartbreak evaporated in an instant, replaced with unbridled elation, and he collapsed into the arms of his Bushwaller’s family. It was the kind of raw emotion so pure and so rare, you couldn’t help but feel privileged you were there to witness it. Then, as everyone around him continued to hoot and holler, Tom steadied himself on the bar, sat back down in his seat, and bowed his head for a quiet moment to himself amidst the chaos.

My coworker happened to snap a candid photo during these moments, perfectly capturing what Tom would later describe in an interview with our local paper as “ecstatic euphoria.” I quickly posted it to the Pub’s social media accounts as well as a huge Facebook group for fellow bartenders. The comments and reactions started rolling in. In my little corner of the internet, Tom went viral. People from all over the country sent their love and congratulations to the Caps’ biggest fan, and we all rode his high with him for days.

I wish this is where the story ended. I wish that the reason I was asked to write this was simply to share about Tom’s long-awaited Stanley Cup victory and his profound, unwavering love of the Washington Capitals. I wish that I wasn’t sitting here recounting these blissful memories with a deep ache in my gut. I wish that I could head down to the Pub right this second and find my friend sitting in his favorite spot at the bar with the remote control in front of him, enjoying a Miller Lite (or even the occasional Irish Car Bomb), and working on today’s crossword. I wish that I could hug him so hard he’d ask what the hell had gotten into me.

But life is messy. And complicated. And sometimes, indescribably cruel. In the months since the Caps won the Cup, Tom’s health has unexpectedly declined, culminating recently in a devastating diagnosis of pancreatic cancer. As our weird little makeshift pub family struggles to come to grips with a future that suddenly seems so much more uncertain, we are all just trying to find our own way to let him know how much he means to us.

I’m not so good with the out loud kind of words. So when I was asked to write something about Tom to submit to a hockey blog, I was honored to have the opportunity to express myself in a way that makes sense to me. But also, I panicked. It’s no surprise to anyone who’s met me that I’m not exactly a fan of athletic competitions, and when a friend read a (very) rough draft of this, peppered with sportsball terminology I found on the Google, she offered me some constructive criticism: don’t try to write about hockey-write about how Tom makes us all feel about hockey.

Over the last few days, people have shared with me some of their fondest memories about Tom and the Washington Capitals. One person found a new team to love after hating hockey for decades over their previous home team’s abrupt departure for another city. The games he’s taken so many people to over the years. The Caps gear he’s handed down. The horn he’d blast at the Pub that instructed everyone it was time to rally. The letter submitted to our local paper insisting that they interview Tom about the win. The photo that circulated on the internet and made even the most disappointed Knights fans happy, if only for a moment. What people communicated through each and every memory they shared was that they would not love Washington Capitals hockey as much or at all, were it not for Tom Severn.

When that person told me about their disappointment over their own home team abandoning their city decades ago, it wasn’t a story about them finally finding a new team to root for. It was about how watching Tom watch the Caps made them rediscover their love of hockey.

When people talked about the games he took them to, it was never about the excitement of the actual sport. It was about feeling giddy over Tom’s eagerness to share his passion with them.

When people told me about the Caps gear he gave them, it wasn’t the stuff that made them happy. It was the feeling that Tom was gifting them a tiny piece of himself.

When they remember him blasting that horn in the Pub, it wasn’t about a fun way to pump up some fans. It was that belting out “LET’S! GO! CAPS!” in response to Tom’s rallying cry made us feel like we were all a part of something really special.

When I read the letter someone sent to the local paper, it wasn’t about them wanting to share how thrilled Tom was about the win. It was that they knew that any article written in our town about the Caps winning the Cup just wouldn’t feel complete if they left out the very best part of the story.

When people mentioned that perfectly timed photo, it wasn’t ever about it being a great picture. It’s that every person who sees it can’t help but feel a passion for the game of hockey, whether they liked it before or not. They feel the reverence fans have for their beloved Caps, whether it’s their team or not. And they fall head over heels in love with this Tom guy, whether they know him or not.

Our Bushwaller’s family is overwhelmed by the reality that we may soon be facing the unimaginable. But no matter what happens, we will get through it the only way we know how. By heading to the Pub, drinking a little too much, and continuing to love the hell out of each other through all of life’s ups and downs in the same way that Tom Severn loves the Washington Capitals. Unconditionally.

Edited to add: Sadly, Tom passed away peacefully in his home, surrounded by family and loved ones on 10/29, a few days after this was published. He will be missed as deeply as he was loved.