Thomas H. Wood, II

The funeral eulogy has been added below.

Thomas Wood, II, 66, of Loves Park, passed away Friday, May, 30, 2025.  He was surrounded by family during a prayerful, powerful and beautiful passing after a short illness.  Thomas was born August 28, 1958 in Rockford, IL to Thomas H. Wood and Merylyn Rein.  During Tom’s life he accomplished many important milestones. He was a retired proud 42 year member of IBEW Local 364. He started in the electrical field beginning with the mentoring of his grandfather (Cecil B. Wood) through his shop, Wood Electric, Inc.  He took great pride in his role in the construction of the Byron Nuclear Station and then later being a part of the management team for the Station’s scheduled maintenance and re-fueling.  He loved the challenges that the electrical field gave him.

He married JoAnne (Murphy), and they enjoyed just shy of 45 years together. They raised two children, Thomas and Julie, and later enjoyed the blessing of three grandchildren. His priorities of God, Family and Country will be something we will all carry forward.  He loved spending time with his family and friends and had a special enjoyment watching his grandchildren through their passions, hobbies and sports. He was very proud of his children’s accomplishments and was instrumental to imparting many life skills. He was the rock that his family needed in tough times. His desire to seek out the things that could go right instead of the things that could go wrong was rooted in his desire to trust in God’s Mercy and Will.

He had a servant’s heart always looking for a way to help or assist. Always had an ear to lend along with an easy smile. He had a heart of gold which was courageous and strong yet, gentle when needed to be. His calm easy-going nature is something we will very much miss. He enjoyed conversation with friends and had an easy rapport with strangers. He was always available to his family and friends anytime they needed him. He loved seeing his family smile.

Some of his most beloved pastimes were watching cartoons, particularly Scoobie Doo, watching professional car racing and especially going to the Indy 500 with his father, Thomas Wood. He really loved being in nature whether it was walking in the woods, RV camping with his wife and family, sitting at a campfire watching the stars, or watching various nature documentaries.  Many memories were shared in the fun of the canoe trips he organized for family reunions. He took a lot of pride in the maintenance and care of his home and yard.  His favorite vacation was their trip to Maui. As a result, Hawaiian shirts became one of his favorite go-to attire. It is his fun spirited request that family and friends share his celebration of life by wearing their favorite Hawaiian shirt at the visitation and funeral.

Survived by his beloved wife, JoAnne; son, Thomas H. Wood, III (Amber); daughter, Julie Smith (Curtis); grandchildren, Jonathen Smith, Kaylee Smith and Hayden Smith; Chocolate Lab, Gracie; brother, William Wood (Martha); brothers-in-law, Dan Murphy (Char), Steve Murphy (Jeannine), Thomas Murphy (Connie); many nieces and nephews; and special friend/brother, Bill Spivey.  Predeceased by mother, Merylyn Rein (Robert); father, Thomas H. Wood (Laveda); brother, Todd Wood (Jan); grandparents; and many aunts and uncles.

Special thanks to Steve and Jeannine Murphy, the Neubauer family, and all those family and friends that reached out to the Wood family in their time of need with prayers, messages and meals.  Also Heather Hartman Primary NP, Northern Illinois Hospice (Nick and Lily), and Dr. George Jacob.

Visitation will be from 5:00pm to 7:30pm on Thursday, June 5, 2025 in Honquest Family Funeral Home with Crematory-Mulford Chapel, 4311 N. Mulford Road, Loves Park, IL 61111.  Mass of Christian Burial will be at 10:00am on Friday, June 6, 2025 in St. Bridget Catholic Church, 600 Clifford Ave., Loves Park, IL 61111 with Fr. Jeff Filipski officiating. In lieu of flowers, mass memorials or memorials to Wounded Warrior Project, woundedwarriorproject.org or St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital, stjude.org.

EULOGY:

“Poo Da Bear”
I think it’s safe to say my Uncle Tom was the one and only Poo Da Bear. He earned that term of endearment from JoAnne when they were just starting out. She’d wanted a stuffed “Pooky” bear from a Six Flags gift shop, but he refused to spend $30 on it. Then he saw he could win one for her—and that changed everything. He got to slinging those ping-pong balls...$150 later, she was an unhappy camper because he was out of money and sure hadn’t won her that bear! A few weeks later, with her little brother in tow, they returned to 6 Flags, and this time, he bought the bear. And on their wedding day, she, JoAnne, took him, PooDaBear, to be her husband. Ever since, she has lovingly called him by that name.  That nickname perfectly sums up the dichotomy of his aura. He was a big, tough, cowboy kind of man, steel-toe boots and a booming voice—the kind of man you just knew not to mess with.  But at the same time, he was calm, tender, and gracious as could be.  For a time, when he and JoAnne traveled for work, they stayed in lots of hotels. After checking in, she’d ask him to fill the ice bucket. Without fail, each time, he’d return about 45 minutes later—with half-melted ice, and full-length stories about the hotel clerk or someone he’d met in the hallway.  That wasn’t a one-off. That was Tom.  He lived what I like to call an interruptible life—much like Jesus did.  Jesus didn’t minister on a schedule. So much of His ministry happened on the way, in between things. Jesus was never in a hurry. He was interruptible. He stopped to listen, to share, to heal.  Uncle Tom lived like that, too—in hotel lobbies, parking lots, wherever he was. If he saw someone who needed help loading groceries, he pivoted and helped. If someone left a shopping cart in the middle of the lot—and you know who you are—he returned it to the cart hub.  That interruptible spirit didn’t stop when he got sick. Even when he was on oxygen, this man kept stepping up. Just a few weeks ago, when his mother-in-law had to leave Sienna for hospice care, he was there—packing, lifting, moving boxes—as if he were perfectly healthy.  Nothing kept him down.  He was a hands-on helper. He gave of his time, his skill, and his treasure—without ever asking anything in return.  He prioritized God, family, and country—in that order.  He believed in doing what was right, and he stood for it fearlessly.  I’ve heard it said that no one gets through life unscathed. What sets people apart is how they choose to carry the weight of their wounds.

Uncle Tom lived in such a way that he didn’t burden others with his own weight. He held his own and he lived right by his family. And in his final years, though his illness was heavy, he bore it  humbly and silently. Unless someone told you, you would never have known what he was going through.  He was intentional about his goodbyes. His parting words were bold and clear: Forgive each other. Keep God close. Don’t wait till you’re 66. Don’t waste even a single day.  Find the joy in each one.  He loved his friends and family of origin deeply and consistently.  He shepherded his wife, kids, and grandkids with strength and presence.  He was a rock for his bride. Her safety and well-being were always his utmost concern. Through many storms, he kept her calm—often quoting Jesus to her: “Today has enough trouble of its own. Don’t worry about tomorrow.”  JoAnne sometimes sells herself short, but she was his Eve—leading him to the right tree, the tree of life. Through her, he came to love the Lord and the Church, and she walked beside him every step of the way.  Together, they raised a beautiful, tender-hearted daughter who mirrors his work ethic and walks with unmatched resilience. Like her dad, no matter what she’s going through, Julie will drop everything to show up for someone in need. She and her husband, Curt, made Tom a very proud grandpa. He loved those kids. He prioritized them—with provision, presence, and reliability. He built dollhouses, racetracks, and memories they’ll carry forever.  They also raised a son whose quiet strength has shone powerfully in recent months.  When I spoke to Tommy in April, I asked how he was handling his dad’s illness. He told me he’d reassured his mom: “No matter how this unfolds, we’ll handle it as a family.”  And did he ever keep his word!  The minute he learned his dad was in hospice, he flew in from L.A. and stepped up—with strength, courage, and a calm demeanor that reminded us all of his dad.  Tommy shared that growing up, he received a steady stream of encouragement from his father: The first time he slept through the night as an infant: “You did good, son.”  At graduation: “You did good, son.”  When he finished projects at his own home: “You did good, son.”  A week ago today, Aunt JoAnne graciously allowed me to keep a pre-planned visit to say goodbye to Uncle Tom, even though that very day, he’d taken a sudden turn.  What I stepped into was one of the most beautiful, heart-wrenching moments of my life.  He was literally surrounded—by his family, and by the Holy Spirit. You could feel God in the room.

More than once, Tom reached his arms out.  Maybe he wanted to be held.  Maybe he was seeing glimpses of the Lord and reaching for Him.  We may never know. But here’s what we do  know: We prayed over him. We laid hands on him. We called down the Spirit of God.  His wife stroked his beard and sang gently over him.  His daughter held him.  At one point, the nurse checked his pulse and said with surprise, “He’s still hanging on. He sure has a big strong heart.”  In true JoAnne fashion, she broke the tension with humor: “Are you staying for dinner, honey?”  Julie added, “We’re having meatloaf.”  And then it was tender again, and JoAnne whispered something into his ear— one last, beautiful private secret only they will share.  And within minutes, despite very labored breathing and a slowing pulse, Tom found the strength to turn his entire body towards his son and reached his arms out to him. Tommy wrapped his dad up in a bear hug. “It’s ok, dad. We love you, dad. It’s ok, dad.”  And it was as if Tom was knowingly using his last breath to pass his strength on to Tommy.  He died there, in the embrace of his only son. It was devastatingly beautiful.  And I imagine that his spirit lingered for just a few moments more...long enough to hear Tommy say, “You did good, dad. You did good.”

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