This is a copy of the tribute I gave for my brother at the funeral.
John Paul - My Superman
It feels like an impossible task to try to sum up my
brother in a few minutes. He loved
hiking, cooking, traveling, and running.
But those were just things John did. What made John so amazing was how he lived his life. He was strong. He was courageous. He was funny. He was loving.
He embodied so many virtues we’d all love to claim. John may have seemed average to those
who didn’t know him, but for me, he was my Superman.
When John was about 4, my Uncle Steve asked if he could
be his friend. John replied,
“Sorry, I already have two friends - Papa and Superman.” It’s a funny story, but it really is
the opposite of who John grew to be.
His capacity for love was unparalleled. I’ve never known anyone who was able to
make friends and hold on to them the way John did.
John’s heart was enormous. He made everyone feel that they were his closest friend and
confidant. I don’t say this to
diminish anyone’s relationship with John.
I say this because John’s ability to love was that phenomenal. There was room for all of us in John’s
heart. It was his super
power. He had enough love for us
all.
Like John’s buddy Superman, he was also courageous. He
was the most courageous person I’ve ever known. I mean truly courageous. He knew he was dying.
He knew these tumors would take his life. He kept going.
He kept fighting, right until the very end. But before cancer, John was
already courageous. His fight with
cancer may be our last memory of John, but it shouldn’t be our only memory of
him. He lived a fearless
life. He was intensely protective
of his friends and family. He was
unafraid to show emotion.
John couldn’t leap tall buildings in a single bound, but
he could jump: off of bridges (in Maine and Annapolis and who knows where
else), into bodies of water because of bets, and from gondolas (in Switzerland)
and cliffs (in the Alps and Lake George).
It’s how he lived his life – jumping in with both feet.
When we were kids, our bedrooms were right next to each
other and we shared a wall. Each
night before we went to sleep we would knock on the wall and say, “I love
you.” That’s another thing about
John. You never wondered where you
stood with him. He wore his heart
and his emotions on his sleeve. If
he loved you, you knew it. If he
was angry with you, you knew it.
Even if you didn’t have the opportunity to see John one last time, I
doubt there is anyone here who wonders if John cared for them.
People were drawn to John. His personality was magnetic. He drew you in with his attentiveness and sincerity and then
won you over with his humor. One
conversation with John and you were hooked.
His humor was witty and quick. He used it to defuse arguments or awkward situations or just
to make you laugh. John’s humor is
what I will remember most about him - his ability to turn mundane moments into
side-splitting adventures. It’s impossible to try to come up with simply one
example that demonstrates John’s humor because every conversation he
participated in was littered with sarcastic references, movie quotes or smart
observational humor. He had the ability to be funny without hurting
others. Jokes were most often at
his expense.
John could win an argument even if he was wrong. He told me that the thing he hated
about the iPhone was that it was making it much harder for him to win arguments
when he was wrong (people could check his declarations immediately) - not that
he couldn’t still win them, it just made it harder.
John was a good cook. One of the last nights that we went out with John, we got
sucked into a marathon of a TV show called “Chopped” before heading out for the
evening. I’m not really sure that
the show is even that good, but John’s running commentary kept us all
entertained to the point that we second guessed our original plans. We did
eventually make it out that evening, but when John was around, there really
wasn’t a need for other formal entertainment.
He knew random trivia.
He loved the Patriots.
He could quote TV shows and movies like no one else and
at exactly the right moment.
He was competitive. After his last surgery, he told me that he was determined to
beat my daughter, Lucy (who was 9 months old at the time) to walking. When he did walk, he was so happy. He sent me a video of himself taking
unassisted steps with a note that said, “I pulled ahead of Lucy!”
John loved running. It was how he cleared his head and kept his cool.
John was humble.
I’ve heard that you can tell a lot about a person by the way he treats a
waitress. I think you can tell more about a person by the way he treats his
nurses and doctors. Even during
John’s last trip to the hospital he was polite and humorous. He thanked the nurses and doctors for
everything and apologized for requesting anything.
I could talk about John for hours. Summarizing anyone’s
life is hard, but it’s even harder when it’s Superman – someone who has lived
such a rich and deep, even if brief, life. John did a lot of living in his 28
years. He often said that he never wanted to be anyone’s hero – but he
was. Simply by being John, he
inspired us all to live better, fuller lives, and to not take anything for
granted.
As Mae West once said, “You only live once, but if you
do it right, once is enough.”
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