November 11, 1955 – November 11, 2016

Joseph William Tully (Joe) of Oak Creek, CO passed away peacefully on his birthday after a four-year journey with cancer. He was in his home surrounded by those that loved him. He is survived by his wife, Meg; and his sisters Sharon Ryall of Miranda, New South Wales, Australia (Bruce, Brett and Craig); Debbie Tully of Pagosa Springs, CO; Sandra Gaither of Littleton, CO (Rick, Holly and R.J.) and Cynthia LeMaire of Pinewood Springs, CO (Steve, Kyle, Lucas and Nick). He is preceded in death by his parents Robert and Mona Tully and his brother Steve Tully.

The Tully Family is profoundly grateful for the outpouring of love and support from family and friends both near and far. Thank you to the following for helping us to see beauty in the midst of pain: Reverend Ernest Bayer and his team at the Holy Name Catholic Church; Reverend Catie Greene of St. Paul's Episcopal Church; Mitch Locke at Yampa Valley Funeral Home; Jan Fritz, Dr. Allen Cohn and the team at Yampa Valley Medical Center Cancer Services; Northwest Colorado Health Hospice Care and Dr. Joanne Grace; Dr. Scott Oliver and Dr. Theresa Medina at University of Colorado-Anschutz Medical Campus.

Memorial donations can be made to the Holy Name Catholic Church, St. Paul's Episcopal Church or Community Bible Study in care of the Yampa Valley Funeral Home, PO Box 776090, Steamboat Springs, CO 80477.

The below is the eulogy from the funeral mass service on November 15, 2016 at Holy Name Catholic Church:

Quote adapted from the movie Shadowlands , about the Christian writer C.S. Lewis' final words to his dying wife Joy: "Not much more to say. I love you, Joe. I love you so much. You've made me so happy. I didn't know I could be so happy. You're the truest person I've ever known. Sweet Jesus, be with my beloved husband, Joe. Forgive me if I love him too much. Have mercy on us both."

You Hold My Heart in Your Hands

My sweet Joe:

I don't even know how to begin. There's so much to say; but thankfully, nothing was unsaid. The bottomless ache of missing you is more than I can bear. But the wave of love created by the people who love us most is gently nudging me forward. And since you and I are joined by the same Holy Spirit, I hear your whisper deep inside me.

Oh, how I love you, and oh, how I love the life we had together. I asked if you were mad, and you said "No." I know you were sad more for us than for yourself. That's what love is, right?

For me, the past four years have been an excruciating dance between hope and despair, life and death. But you've always accepted life's hardest challenges without fighting, complaint or pity. Choose joy, right? You accepted the path God chose for you. Right after one of the worst reports we could have gotten, you shrugged and said, "What's for dinner?" As usual, I replied, "I don't know."

You loved ice fishing. Personally, I think you enjoyed the beer (Smithwicks over Guinness) more than the fishing. And you recently discovered emoji's. I cherish the "I love you's" accompanied by a string of eight perfectly-selected images. You never lost that childlike sense of curiosity and wonder. It could drive me nuts; but then again, isn't that what it's all about?

You loved your plants and birds, your riding lawn mower, golf, camping, hiking – everything outdoors. And putzing around the house. And your dog Bella. She's still YOUR dog. And scratch tickets. We can't forget the scratch tickets. We wondered how we would pay for our wedding, and you won $5000 two weeks before we were married. So I guess scratch tickets aren't so bad.

You loved your work and your friends. But clear, concise articulation of your thoughts and feelings was not one of your gifts. Your friend Todd told me that he and Mike were the only two people on earth who knew how to "speak Joe."

You lived simply, uncluttered, slow. What you see is what you get. You never worked at becoming someone - you just were who you were. You saw the flowers while I was heedlessly stepping on them. You were content to be in the background, and you were fully present. You breathed deeply, laughed large and let life carry you.

You hugged too hard. Literally. Sometimes it felt like being squeezed by a boa constrictor. But I realize isn't this how it should be?

You loved your family with all of your great, big, uncomplicated heart. You will always be Uncle Joey with the never-ending supply of doughnuts.

You told me that you've always muted your big, baritone voice, and that you knew in Heaven, you could really belt it out. I can imagine the angels with their hands over their ears. If I'm still enough, I hear you too. I only wish I needed to put my hands over my ears.

You were born again on your birthday. Your life came full circle. I take enormous comfort in knowing that you accomplished what God sent you here to do. You never had to look for your purpose; you were always in it without even trying. I believe this was God's greatest gift to you – and to me. You were taken from me too soon, but your Father was ready for you. Well done, Joe - kudos.

You loved taking care of me. You told me I held your heart in my hands. You are my sun in the middle of rain. You taught me how to see and to live the sun in the middle of rain. I'll honor your precious and brilliant life by opening my heart bravely and without struggle to the sun in the middle of rain. Maybe one day, I'll learn how to speak Joe.

---Meg Tully, November 14, 2016