Jay Tompkins, a man of few words but large presence, died on Thursday, July 2, 2015. He spent his final hours focused on those activities to which he had dedicated his life -- i.e. to the going out of his way for others. He had a soft spot for the trials and tribulations others face, and he knew well that it is the little things that ease our pain and suffering, and add abundance to our lives. Jay was also a self-described encyclopedia of useless knowledge.

In the days following his death, his consistent effort to add practical ease and comfort the lives of those around him, particularly to his wife's, was proven time and time again to be Jay's most impressive skill. His wife's birthday (still weeks away) present awaited us at the front door -- two pairs of the comfiest sketchers you could ever find. It had long been a running joke that the only gift Jan ever gave Jay was shoes, and he finally returned the favor, bringing her some much needed physical comfort as we begin to walk this new path. He also ordered three packets of new socks along with her shoes, which, while practical, wasn't needed. His closet is overrun by socks -- but in his absence his step-son will be getting the six new pairs -- which makes for perfect timing, since Todd's socks are all falling apart and he'd had never bought any new ones for himself.

We found in his truck that he had made a pit stop at Buckee's before his passing, buying a mixture of regular and chili-lime pistachios for his wife, her hand down favorite snack and one that she will eat to ad nauseam. Again, the timing couldn't have been any more perfect -- after all, all she has been able to eat for the last few days is those pistachios, and we were running frighteningly low. As usual, Jay came to the rescue, solving for the detailed pain points in each of our lives without us having asked, and without him even being here.

Details just weren't something Jay much forgot. In fact, he always knew the names of every one of his step kids friends and significant others, which, trust us, in his short six years with us, he certainly met quite a few of the latter. He could rattle off professional golf stats in his sleep, though he often resisted, understanding full and well that that that particular fascination was unique to himself and his golf buddies. In all, Jay can best be described as a doer and a giver. If he saw you drinking a new liquor, talking about a new favorite food or simply struggling to pull in an old suitcase that was falling apart at the seams -- any of those details we all see every day from those that surround us, but that which we assume they can take care of themselves -- you'd soon have a new suitcase at your door, a liquor cabinet full of that new alcohol, and a cabinet full of Italian green beans, in the case that you were his step daughter, who, to his as well as others continued disgust, eats those things right out of the can.

Jay found comfort himself in being useful and practical in his giving -- a talent he continued to nurture for more than fifty-nine years. For all of us left behind, let us also begin to foster and nurture that within ourselves. Make a pit stop at Buckee's every so often, buying some chili-lime pistachios and send them his wife's way. You will make her day, and in the following years, we'll need as many of those as possible. Pay more attention, too, to the ones you love around you. Though our complaints may be small in comparison, go out of your way, for a moment, to buy your friend who is always complaining about low battery life a better charger or a Mophie. For that one person on your family plan who uses all the cell data because they can't remember for the life of them the fifteen word/number combination password Time Warner sets on the Wifi -- set up an easy to remember password and save yourself and everyone else a few dollars. Or, simply buy your wife a thoughtful birthday present long before you need to, in the case that something unexpected happens and you can't be there. Jay would have. Jay did.

In these ways, each of us will keep Jay's memory alive. See, you can't take possessions with you where we are all ultimately headed, but new shoes; good drink and good food certainly make the road there a lot better for the wear. Let his life influence you in that way. Let it change you for the better. Let it impact others in such a way that they must ask, with full gratitude in their heart, as to why the sudden change in your behavior. And when they do, grill them up a steak, butter some corn and tell them the story of a man gone too soon, of a man with little words but massive generosity, who made it his sole mission on earth to ease the burden of life's nagging details and the personal honey-do lists of those he loved. He was a big man with a bigger heart who was always thinking of others before himself.

Jay is survived by his wife, Janyce Wallace; stepdaughter, Tracey Wallace, of Austin; stepson, Todd Wallace, of Beaumont; sisters, Ginny Hubert and her husband, Dave, of New Jersey; Debi Lautenschlager and her husband, Bill, of Oregon; and Nancy Drexler, of Houston; five nieces; one nephew; and one great-nephew.

He is preceded in death by his parents.

A gathering of Mr. Tompkins’ family and friends will be from 6:00 p.m. until 8:00 p.m., Wednesday, July 8, 2015, at Broussard’s, 1605 North Major Drive, Beaumont. A private family committal will be at Broussard’s Crematorium, Beaumont.

Finally, in lieu of flowers, in which Jay would find absolutely no practicality, please make a donation in his honor to Humane Society of Southeast Texas, P.O. Box 1629, Beaumont, Texas 77704.  Like all truly good, kind and gentle souls, Jay had a way with dogs (four of which survive him). Please donate so that more animals can find loving homes and families just like his.