Honoring My Dad's Passing by Thanking Paris Thomas
- Neil Parekh
- Oct 1
- 4 min read
Originally Published January 2010. My dad passed away 16 years ago on October 1, 2009 six months after a heart transplant. It was actually a hospital-based staph infection that led to Sepsis. His last stay in the hospital lasted two and a half weeks. One of the ways I honored his memory was by remembering Paris Thomas, a security guard at New York-Presbyterian Hospital.
I wrote this letter to highlight how great Paris was to our family. The president of the hospital read part of the letter at an annual meeting of 1,000 managers, VPs, etc. and encouraged people to read the full article, which was published in the January 2010 edition of the hospital newsletter. He also met with Paris to thank him for his efforts.
January 2010 Dear Dr. Pardes,
Recently I stopped by New York-Presbyterian Hospital to thank the staff who cared for my dad, who died three months ago. They – the security officers, the family liaison on the cardiac floor, the nurses, techs, food service workers, residents, interns, attending physicians – all were incredible.
My dad got the best possible medical care. The staff was good at their jobs, but they went beyond that to treat him and our family with respect, love and dignity.
But the person I really wanted to write about is Paris Thomas, who works the reception desk in The Milstein Hospital Building. His job is to check to see who you are visiting, verify ID and then give you a pass to go upstairs. During the 10 months I was visiting the Hospital, I realized he was someone special.
It wasn’t just the smiley faces he would draw on the passes to the fifth floor, or just the friendly smile and hello, or the fact that he always asked about my dad when we walked in the door. Paris really became a part of the team that was helping my family cope with an unbelievably difficult situation.
During his earlier Hospital stays, my dad mostly got better. After he had a mechanical heart (LVAD) put in, he made steady progress. After his heart transplant in April and even once or twice during his last stay, there were days when we walked in and there was hope in our eyes. To see Paris react to that was amazing. He reflected the relief and optimism we had and just amplified it. He made us feel better about what was going on.
Every day he made it easier to walk into that Hospital and to walk upstairs – particularly in the last week when we were told my dad wouldn’t make it.
My dad died at 2:30 a.m. on October 1. Paris didn’t work the overnight shift. We never had a chance to see him after my dad died.
On October 2, when we didn’t show up, Paris knew that my dad was gone. My mom and my sister and I, and dozens of family members and friends, had been coming to the Hospital every day. When Paris didn’t see anyone that Friday morning, he knew.
When I visited the Hospital recently, Paris told me he had to step away from his desk when he realized that my dad was gone.
There are a lot of families he gets to know. Often he gets to celebrate when they are able to take their loved one home (as we did several times with my dad). Other times, however, because he develops a real bond with people, he grieves when the end comes.
Although he has to know how much he means to the families he meets across the front desk – dispensing passes, smiles, an encouraging word, a sympathetic look – I can’t imagine that his colleagues, his supervisors, the medical staff or hospital administration really understand the role he plays in patient care. Even though I am sure that he is a loving caring person in other areas of his life, the people he works with and for, can’t fully understand how much he means to the families he sees. It’s not just families like mine, who came in on a daily basis or over the course of a year. I would see him interact with every single person that came through in the same way, all day long.
When I think back on the emotional roller coaster we went on, of all the time we spent going to the Hospital, I can’t imagine what it would have been like to start those days without Paris.
He always set aside his own worries and concerns, and was present for everyone who had the pleasure of meeting him. I’m sure he has a bad day every now and then, but he never showed it or let it change how he interacted with people he barely knew. As I remember my dad and what we went through, I will always think of Paris and the comfort he gave us.
For that, I will always be grateful.
Neil Parekh
Email from hospital staff after the letter was published
"Paris' name has come up many times before but no one else explained so fully what his particular brand of "magic" is. I guess it isn't magic but rather compassion and warmth and empathy and probably a few other qualities that all came together to create a rare person...
The hospital had its annual "kickoff" on Friday. It's a meeting of about 1,000 managers, directors, VPs, etc., to set the agenda for the new year. The hospital president started the kickoff by reading part of your letter and urging everyone there to be sure to read the entire letter in the newsletter.
Thank you for taking the time to tell us about Paris. I've heard quite a bit about him, but never such an eloquent tribute as yours."
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