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Editor’s Note: Tom Catania, who was born in Chicago on January 14 1948, passed away in Holland, Michigan on July 12, 2026. A Celebration of Life will be held in Puerto Vallarta in the fall of 2026. Details will follow in the coming months via Out & About PV social media. The following is a tribute and remembrance by one of his best friends and OAPV writer, Jamie Alexander.
There are people who come into your life.
And then there are people who quietly become part of it.
The kind of people whose favorite restaurant becomes your favorite restaurant. Whose recipes find their way into your own kitchen. Whose laugh you can hear before they even walk into the room. The kind of people who leave fingerprints on your life so gently that you don’t even realize they’re there until one day they’re gone.
This is one of those stories.
It is with a broken heart that I share the passing of my dear friend, Tom Catania, who peacefully left this world on the evening of July 12, 2026.
Yesterday was supposed to be another ordinary day. It was the last day of my eleven-day visit to Michigan, and as always, Tom, Don and I filled it with conversation, shopping, laughter, and far too much discussion about what we should cook next.
While I was paying for our purchases, Don went to fetch the car, Tom decided to sit outside and enjoy the afternoon sunshine. It was exactly the kind of thing Tom would do. Never in a rush. Always finding a reason to appreciate the moment.
When I walked back outside, everything had changed.
Tom had suffered a cardiac arrest.
Hours later, with Don—the love of his life for forty-nine years—holding him in his arms, Tom quietly slipped away.
Somehow, even in saying goodbye, it felt like Tom had chosen his own ending.
Peacefully. Without fanfare. Surrounded by love. It seems fitting. Because that was exactly how he lived.
If you really want to understand Tom, you have to understand his & Don’s connection to Puerto Vallarta.
Although Tom had visited before, it was in 1977 that he and Don made their very first trip here together. They had known each other since freshman year in college, but Puerto Vallarta would forever become the place where their story truly began.
Tom loved telling this story.
They were sitting in Our Lady of Guadalupe Church during Mass when he felt Don gently place his hand on his leg.
Tom looked over.
One glance.
One moment.
One unspoken conversation.
Years later, Tom would still smile while telling it.
“I knew from that moment on, Donnie would be mine for the rest of my life.”
That’s all he would really need to say.
He knew that something extraordinary had just begun. He knew they would spend the rest of their lives together.
And they did.
Every year, they returned to Puerto Vallarta to celebrate that love story. One week eventually became several weeks. Several weeks became months. Months eventually became a home.
In recent years, Puerto Vallarta wasn’t simply where they vacationed—it was where they lived for most of the year. Seven or eight months surrounded by friends who became family, restaurants that felt like dining rooms, performers who became dear friends, and a community that loved Tom just as deeply as he loved it.
Don’t let Tom’s gentle smile fool you.
He could outcook almost anyone. Every meal came with a secret ingredient that somehow made everything taste better. His Italian sausage bread, meatballs & risotto became legendary among friends, and he somehow convinced every one of us that whatever he was making was exactly what he would be sharing and we would be eating. As Tom would always say “there is always room for 1 or 2 more at the table”.
He loved wandering through the butcher shop, discussing exactly how the meat should be cut because perfection mattered—not for appearances, but because he genuinely loved feeding people.
Food was never just food to Tom.
It was LOVE served on a plate.
Then there was his laughter. Tom could tell a story better than anyone. He had impeccable timing, endless stories, and a way of making everyone around him feel like they belonged at the table.
He could stretch twenty-four hours into forty-eight simply because he refused to waste a single minute.
If there was music, Tom was there. If there was a performance, Tom already had tickets.
The Palm Cabaret.
Coco Cabaret.
Soul Night at Catrina Cantina with Kevin Anthony and Jason Mathis.
Those weren’t just nights out. They were traditions. They were friendships. They were pieces of a life that Tom & Don built one conversation, one song, and one smile at a time.
Walk into almost any restaurant in Puerto Vallarta, and someone knew Tom & Don. Not because they demanded attention. Quite the opposite. He noticed people.
The hostess.
The bartender.
The busser clearing plates.
The server who looked exhausted halfway through a busy night.
Tom remembered names.
He asked questions.
He thanked people.
He kissed cheeks.
He made strangers feel like old friends.
In a world where so many people spend their lives trying to be noticed…
Tom spent his making sure everyone else was.
Some of my favorite memories aren’t the big ones. They’re the quiet ones.
Watching him sit on Los Muertos Beach with his eyes closed, feeling the warmth of the sun against his face and the breeze coming off Banderas Bay.
He never seemed to need anything more than that.
He understood something so many of us forget.
Life doesn’t happen someday.
Life is happening right now.
In this meal.
This sunset.
This song.
This conversation.
A hand reaching across a church pew.
I know one thing for certain, I’ll continue finding Tom in the smallest places.
Every time I reach for an ingredient and remember one of his cooking tips.
Every time I order his favorite meal without even realizing it.
Every time I hear one of his favorite performers take the stage.
Every time I sit in one of his favorite restaurants and instinctively glance toward the chair where he should be sitting.
And every single time I stand on a Puerto Vallarta beach, close my eyes, and feel that familiar breeze touch my face…
…I’ll smile.
Because I’ll know he’s there.
To my dear friend, Don…
Forty-nine years together is a love story most people only dream of.
Thank you for sharing Tom with all of us.
Please remember, just as Tom was a gift to each of us…
You are too.
Tom would never want this to be a story about sadness.
He would want us to laugh.
He would want us to order dessert.
He would want us to stay for one more drink (or shot of tequila).
He would want us to tell that story we’ve told a hundred times because somehow it gets funnier every time.
Most of all…
He would want us to love the people sitting beside us while we still can.
Because tomorrow is never promised.
So tell someone you love them.
Call your friend.
Hold someone’s hand.
Watch the sunset.
Take the trip.
Order your favorite meal.
Learn someone’s name.
Leave people feeling better than when you found them.
That’s how Tom lived.
And perhaps…
that’s the most beautiful legacy any of us could ever leave.
Thank you, my friend.
For your laughter.
For your generosity.
For your friendship.
For reminding all of us that life isn’t measured by the years we live, but by how deeply we choose to live them.
Here’s to Tom.
Forever part of Puerto Vallarta.
Forever part of our story.
Forever part of our hearts.
Tom Catania
Born in Chicago on January 14 1948
Died in Holland Michigan on July 12th 2026
A Celebration of Life will be held in Puerto Vallarta in the fall of 2026. Details will follow in the coming months via Out & About PV social media.
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