Tom Voake passed away peacefully on April 28, 2025, surrounded by his family—exactly the way he wanted: with love, stories, and laughter. Born on April 10, 1947, to Lois and David Voake, Tom grew up on a farm outside of Longmont. He attended a one-room schoolhouse and took a taxi to junior high—prompting rumors around town that he was “fancy.” He graduated from Longmont High School and went on to play football at Colorado State College (later UNC, though he always had to explain that). 

Football was a lifelong love, as was coaching, teaching, and occasionally reminding refs they were wrong—even from the stands. Tom’s early career was in education, where he coached and taught before starting a long and successful career in insurance. He claimed he retired several times, but in truth, he just liked people too much to stay away—he worked until his diagnosis of ALS made it impossible. 

He married Nancy Reale in 1981, and together they built a life in Colorado Springs filled with love, laughter, and possibly more golf clubs than closets. Tom’s joys were simple but deeply held: walks with his dog, watching (and occasionally loudly supporting) his kids’ and grandkids’ games, USAFA and Broncos football, and discovering obscure beers in need of a good home. He was particularly proud of his two hole-in-ones and may or may not have mentioned them more than once. 

He is survived by his wife Nancy; his children Paula (Kasey) Gutierrez, Tracy (Robert) Howey, and Michael Voake; grandchildren Jordan, Jackson, Alayna, and Drew; great-granddaughter Summer; and sister Bette (Roy) Horst. Also mourning Tom is his loyal canine companion, Sula; as well as countless nieces, nephews, great-nieces and nephews, extended family, and friends—many of whom were lucky enough to taste his famous cinnamon rolls. He was preceded in death by his parents, David and Lois, and stepfather, Kirby Nicholas. 

Tom was a man who loved his family and enjoyed sharing their accomplishments with them. No matter the relative – a niece, a nephew or a grandchild, he was the first to show up at games, competitions, and recitals—even the ones streamed online. He was always there for his family, for his clients, for his friends, and probably at the golf course more often than he admitted. His wit, warmth, and occasional referee-related commentary will be deeply missed. Per Tom’s wishes, there will be no formal services. Instead, he’d like you to visit your favorite “19th hole,” raise a glass of good beer or whiskey, and share a story. Preferably a funny one.