Tom and I only got to date for about two years. But that short time opened my life up to new experiences and made me happier than I’ve ever been. He changed me forever and for the better.

by Killian Atkinson

Dealing with a serious illness is terrifying and it breaks your heart. But it also forces you to take leaps. It teaches you how limited your time is and that it’s up to you to make the best of it. Tom, having been first diagnosed ovarian cancer when he was 17, had already mastered this lesson before I met him. He wasn’t one for putting something off. If he wanted to go to an event he’d book it, and he’d figure out the money later. If he didn’t have much energy he’d do it sitting down.

Tomen & Killian

Me and Tom met in an animation PLC course. For the entire first year he didn’t miss a single day of college. Only half of one, which he missed so that he could be interviewed by RTÉ about the importance of lowering the age of free smear tests in Ireland.

We were only dating six months when his cancer nearly caused his kidneys to fail. When he improved and left the hospital I brought him home to live with me. We threw aside the notion that it was too risky and too early because we knew if we waited we might never get the chance.

And so together we pushed our time, and our wallets, as far as we could. We went to comic-cons both here and in England, and Tom encouraged me to cosplay with him at all of them. We wandered around cities playing Pokemon Go. We took up Dungeons & Dragons and honestly got a little obsessed with it. We’d go to gigs and he’d enjoy them so much even when he had to sit instead of being able to dance. We showed each other off to family members and became each other’s family.

We went to three different Gay Pride events, and a Trans Pride, and a Trans Rally. remember at Cork Pride 2017 he made a bunch of trans-flag-coloured ribbons for everyone in our friend group. By Dublin Pride 2018 it had evolved to a collection of full-sized flags to wear as capes. And by Trans Pride 2019 he had us making our own placards.

I also remember the fatigue, and the nauseousness, and the pain that accompanied him at many of these events. Tom was so exhausted from his treatments at that Trans Rally that he had to keep leaving to sit down and rest, but he still travelled to Dublin and back, and he participated as much as he could.

This summer he was delighted to start volunteering with the Cork trans group Gender Rebels. He took me to a bunch of their events and did facilitator training with them. He was determined to help other transgender people in Ireland however he could. He publicly posted on social media about how the waiting list for the Irish Gender Clinic, to get hormones and to get surgeries, was so long that he might die before he could be himself. He said if his situation and story could be used to help push for reform then he was more than happy to share it.

Tom died at 22. He never got off the Irish waiting lists. He was able to go private to England to get hormones, but only three months before the end.

It’s so hard to imagine my life continuing without him here. All I can say is that I hope I can remain the better man that he made me be and continue to find inspiration in his strength.

Thank you Tom for being my hero, my friend, my companion, my partner, my husband, my family, my love.