The Man I Never
Knew
April 7th, 2012 should have been a
Saturday like any other -- hectic and full of the errands that didn’t get
completed during the week. It should not have been a day for the news that was
about to come. But come it did. The phone call said that my cousin had died the
day before. My youngest cousin. My 43 year old cousin. What?? “This can’t be”
was my first thought and most likely the first thing I also spoke out loud. John
Matthew, dubbed Johnny Bugs by his Aunt Judy (my mom) when he was very nearly
the size of a bug, was gone.
Society has a self imposed litmus test for success. Grow up, get married, have kids, retire, get a hobby. And there are ages that correspond to each stage. If an individual does not marry or works into his seventies or eighties we ask “What’s wrong with him?” The answer is simply this – absolutely nothing! Johnny was not married nor did he have children. Johnny chose a path that kept him in the hometown that he loved, allowed him to work in a place with immediate and extended family and gave him the freedom to travel and spend time with family and friends not living near.
The week approaching promised joy at seeing so many of the family and heartache at saying goodbye to one. I was not the first to arrive at the viewing nor the last to leave, but I did watch a three and a half hour steady line of people wait patiently to pay their respects to the family – the family that had just lost so much. I watched this family arranged in a horseshoe with Johnny’s casket closing the loop on one end. They graciously received each of the visitors. No member of the family, although each strong in their own way, could have single handedly borne the weight of that evening. But together drawing strength from each other, the stayed the course.
The celebration of life folder gave the agenda for the funeral service the following day. I read the list of speakers in disbelief; lifelong friends, his nieces and nephews, his sisters and his brother. I wondered how they would manage it, knowing full well that if I were placed in a similar situation I would crumble into a heap on the ground. But manage it they did with strength and composure. Classmates, teammates and friends spoke of friendships built so long ago. Nieces and nephews shared what Uncle Johnny meant to them. He was never too busy. One sister shared about Johnny’s “great laugh”. It was contagious. And his smile infectious – when Johnny smiled, the room smiled. And the eldest, his other sister, talked of acceptance. Johnny didn’t care about background or circumstance, Johnny took you just as you stood – baggage and all.
God has a funny way of getting our attention (or he does with me anyway). Music is a primary tool. On an August day in 2009 as we drove to the funeral home for Mom’s service, a song popped on the radio that almost stopped me in my tracks. Mom had battled Alzheimer’s for several years. Alzheimer’s is a disease that robs its victims of memory and cognitive thought – at first. Then it deprives them of remembering how to eat, how to breath and how to live. It had been months since I had seen her awake. She had withered into a wisp of herself and now the battle was over. The song was sung by Jeremy Camp and the particular section of lyrics that spoke to me was this:
There will be a day with no more tears, no more pain, and no more fears
There will be a day when the burdens of this place, will be no more, we’ll see Jesus face to face.
A relief to think of no more burdens for her.
On this April Friday as I steered into the same driveway of the same funeral home, this time for Johnny, these words came over the radio.
To everyone who's lost someone they love
Long before it was their time
You feel like the days you had were not enough
when you said goodbye
There is hope for the helpless
Rest for the weary…
He'll meet you wherever you are
Cry out to Jesus.
Many cries going out this week. Comforting words.
God also puts people in our path who teach us things. When Jesus walked the earth, he preached and taught – by word and by example. Scholars can only point to one or two instances where Jesus actually wrote. They kind of agree that it was with his finger or the point of a stick and that it was in the dirt. He didn’t keep a journal. Fortunately those that were around Him found it important enough to document what went on. Today those words and actions are bound into a single volume and are our blueprint for life. They require study and reflection, but there they are. What if there was a person, now, 2000 years later, living those actions of caring and accepting and helping? Wouldn’t we try or at least want to try, to be like that? We may even tag them with the title of role model. That was Johnny. Never flashy or boastful but always there when needed. We find ourselves muttering, “I wish I could be more like that”, or “I would like to be like him”.
No one that spoke on Friday ever mentioned anger, malice or hatefulness. That wasn’t Johnny. The relationships they described are the kind forged in a fire of trust and respect. The kind that weather all that time imposes upon them. I have more respect for Dave than I can say in these paragraphs. He is a gentleman and the epitome of class. He used the words ‘best friend’ to describe his brother. I feel confident that those are not words he attaches to a person easily and they are not words I take lightly. David and Johnny were brothers by birth – not much choice in the matter. They were friends because they wanted to be. That was ALL a matter of choice.
To say that Johnny touched lives would be to dilute the true power he had on this planet. He impacted lives. To be helped, cared for or befriended by Johnny was to be changed forever. Johnny was six years my junior yet I can only hope that someday I grow into the man he was.
Godspeed Johnny Bugs. You will never know all that you did here on earth. Those of us that remain, that knew you and loved you, will do our meager best to pay forward your legacy.
Steve Matthews
Society has a self imposed litmus test for success. Grow up, get married, have kids, retire, get a hobby. And there are ages that correspond to each stage. If an individual does not marry or works into his seventies or eighties we ask “What’s wrong with him?” The answer is simply this – absolutely nothing! Johnny was not married nor did he have children. Johnny chose a path that kept him in the hometown that he loved, allowed him to work in a place with immediate and extended family and gave him the freedom to travel and spend time with family and friends not living near.
The week approaching promised joy at seeing so many of the family and heartache at saying goodbye to one. I was not the first to arrive at the viewing nor the last to leave, but I did watch a three and a half hour steady line of people wait patiently to pay their respects to the family – the family that had just lost so much. I watched this family arranged in a horseshoe with Johnny’s casket closing the loop on one end. They graciously received each of the visitors. No member of the family, although each strong in their own way, could have single handedly borne the weight of that evening. But together drawing strength from each other, the stayed the course.
The celebration of life folder gave the agenda for the funeral service the following day. I read the list of speakers in disbelief; lifelong friends, his nieces and nephews, his sisters and his brother. I wondered how they would manage it, knowing full well that if I were placed in a similar situation I would crumble into a heap on the ground. But manage it they did with strength and composure. Classmates, teammates and friends spoke of friendships built so long ago. Nieces and nephews shared what Uncle Johnny meant to them. He was never too busy. One sister shared about Johnny’s “great laugh”. It was contagious. And his smile infectious – when Johnny smiled, the room smiled. And the eldest, his other sister, talked of acceptance. Johnny didn’t care about background or circumstance, Johnny took you just as you stood – baggage and all.
God has a funny way of getting our attention (or he does with me anyway). Music is a primary tool. On an August day in 2009 as we drove to the funeral home for Mom’s service, a song popped on the radio that almost stopped me in my tracks. Mom had battled Alzheimer’s for several years. Alzheimer’s is a disease that robs its victims of memory and cognitive thought – at first. Then it deprives them of remembering how to eat, how to breath and how to live. It had been months since I had seen her awake. She had withered into a wisp of herself and now the battle was over. The song was sung by Jeremy Camp and the particular section of lyrics that spoke to me was this:
There will be a day with no more tears, no more pain, and no more fears
There will be a day when the burdens of this place, will be no more, we’ll see Jesus face to face.
A relief to think of no more burdens for her.
On this April Friday as I steered into the same driveway of the same funeral home, this time for Johnny, these words came over the radio.
To everyone who's lost someone they love
Long before it was their time
You feel like the days you had were not enough
when you said goodbye
There is hope for the helpless
Rest for the weary…
He'll meet you wherever you are
Cry out to Jesus.
Many cries going out this week. Comforting words.
God also puts people in our path who teach us things. When Jesus walked the earth, he preached and taught – by word and by example. Scholars can only point to one or two instances where Jesus actually wrote. They kind of agree that it was with his finger or the point of a stick and that it was in the dirt. He didn’t keep a journal. Fortunately those that were around Him found it important enough to document what went on. Today those words and actions are bound into a single volume and are our blueprint for life. They require study and reflection, but there they are. What if there was a person, now, 2000 years later, living those actions of caring and accepting and helping? Wouldn’t we try or at least want to try, to be like that? We may even tag them with the title of role model. That was Johnny. Never flashy or boastful but always there when needed. We find ourselves muttering, “I wish I could be more like that”, or “I would like to be like him”.
No one that spoke on Friday ever mentioned anger, malice or hatefulness. That wasn’t Johnny. The relationships they described are the kind forged in a fire of trust and respect. The kind that weather all that time imposes upon them. I have more respect for Dave than I can say in these paragraphs. He is a gentleman and the epitome of class. He used the words ‘best friend’ to describe his brother. I feel confident that those are not words he attaches to a person easily and they are not words I take lightly. David and Johnny were brothers by birth – not much choice in the matter. They were friends because they wanted to be. That was ALL a matter of choice.
To say that Johnny touched lives would be to dilute the true power he had on this planet. He impacted lives. To be helped, cared for or befriended by Johnny was to be changed forever. Johnny was six years my junior yet I can only hope that someday I grow into the man he was.
Godspeed Johnny Bugs. You will never know all that you did here on earth. Those of us that remain, that knew you and loved you, will do our meager best to pay forward your legacy.
Steve Matthews
1 comment:
Steve,
Just going through my e-mails and read this again. Only for the second time. And sat here in my office and cried again. It has been 4 months and I am still seeing and hearing him in my thoughts at night. I thank you for this! Dave
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