THERE IS HOPE FOR HEALING FROM THE MOST TRAUMATIC EVENTS OF OUR LIFE - AN INTERVIEW WITH JOHN-BRIAN PAPROCK

The author, John-Brian Paprock, in Berkeley, California,1972 (age 10), Photo taken by the author's mother.

INTERVIEW WITH THE AUTHOR OF SURVIVING CHILDHOOD IN AMERICA - A STORY

BY GOLD SUN PRESS, goldsunpress.com

AUTHOR JOHN-BRIAN PAPROCK INTERVIEW - OCTOBER 2025

Before the interview, Google AI was asked “Who is John-Brian Paprock?”

Here is the Google AI answer:

John-Brian Paprock is a multifaceted individual known for his work as:

·        An Author and Journalist: He is the author-editor of more than a dozen books and publications, with expertise in journalism and content creation for various media outlets.

·        An Artist and Photographer: John-Brian is recognized as an award-winning artist and photographer.

·        An Independent Researcher: He is an independent researcher with work related to religious studies and interfaith dialogue.

·        An Orthodox Priest: He has served the faith and interfaith communities of Madison, Wisconsin, for over 30 years he served as an ordained priest, chaplain, and pastoral counselor in Minneapolis, Minnesota.

·        A Community Organizer: He is known for his work in community organization, particularly founding Interfaith Awareness Week and engaging in local ecumenical and interfaith activities.

He currently resides in Minneapolis, Minnesota.

He is the author of the new book “Surviving Childhood in America: A story” published 2025.

 * * * 

GOLD SUN PRESS:

We are speaking with author, John-Brian Paprock, of the new book “Surviving Childhood in America: A Story” which is available in print at Gold Sun Press (or your favorite on-line bookseller) and as an eBook at Gold Sun Press (PDF or PUB).  

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John-Brian, your book, based on your own personal history, is about the resilience of children and about how the lingering effects of traumatic events linger into adulthood. What sets your book apart?

 JOHN-BRIAN PAPROCK:

About 30 years or more ago, I went through a process of distilling some ideas and thoughts about my personal mission in the world.  One if the lines was “To bring light into the darkness.” 

So, this book is part of that work: that light shines through the darkness of our lives; that good and love can overcome. It was a deep healing process for me to write my story. I hope it will help others in their healing. 

Coming to terms with difficult and traumatic childhood events in our modern society began for me in therapy as an adult child of an alcoholic struggling to maintain healthy relationships. It was in that therapy when I was asked to “draw” a memory with crayons. This led to many breakthroughs and clarity of memories. Even so, I was initially suspicious of early childhood memories.

It was in therapy that I was also asked to tell my story to anyone - someone, outside of therapy. I had not and the silence of my story persisted, even as I worked through some of the toughest memories of abuse.

 GSP:

Why was that?

 JBP:

There were two major reasons I was so slow to tell my story. First, I did not want to overwhelm anyone. Second, my life has been complicated and I felt it would take too much time. And there were so many other reasons and excuses, postponing the telling of my story.

Eventually, I was challenged by my therapist, at that time, to write my story down. Which I proceeded to procrastinate repeatedly, excusing myself from writing, off and on, for years. But the importance of telling my story kept tugging at me. I knew I needed to write it all down. I did, at least, develop something of an outline over 15 years ago.

 GSP:

Fifteen years? Wow, that is a long time.

 JBP:

I kept trying to write about the more traumatic events, but it was quite overwhelming. In addition, I was not happy with the memoir format. I wanted to be accurate to the time and place of the events, but it was too much like reliving the events. This was very depressing and required a lot of inner energy that I doubted I could muster at that time. I was anxious a lot of the time. So, I would stop writing for months, even years, then write some more and stop again.  It was a very slow process for me. Even so, the writing of my story kept calling me back.

 GSP:

That is a significant writer’s block. How did you get past it?

 JBP:

The first thing that happened was a lucid dream, like a vision, that I had completed the book with the title. That dream helped me reorient the entire process.

The writing began to flow when I decided to write it as a story that happened to someone else. I changed names and compressed a few timelines to fit a story that I could tell, true to my memories.

Interestingly, one person, who read a draft of the book, asked that I keep his name unchanged!  It was a surprising response and I was honored to do so.

Basically, I decided to write a roman-`a-clef novel where real people and events appear with invented names.

The other thing I did was rethink the outline, so the book is written in flow with the process of remembering – rather than following a strict timeline. 

The other gut check was to shorten the outline, focusing on the events of my childhood only up to age 11 years old, including some of the related healing dilemmas in my adulthood, coping with my mother’s final years of life.

The remainder of the original outline included events from age 11 years old through 18 years old, until I moved to New York City. That part of my story was postponed as a proposed second book. I have already started that roman-`a-clef, historically accurate and true to my memories.

 GSP:

Does that explain the title “Surviving Childhood in America: A Story”?

 JBP

Yes, the sub-title, “A Story,” at least. The rest of the title was an early working title for my writings of survival of traumatic events through my childhood. Not as a definitive story of surviving, but as personal reflections, memories.

The “In America” part of the title was added as I pondered going to 11 schools in 9 cities in 4 states, from California to Wisconsin. All by the time I was 11 years old and starting 6^th grade.

 GSP:

Let us talk about that. You just said you went to 11 schools in 9 cities in 4 states. Having read your book, it does not seem like a travelogue.

 JBP:

Thank you. I was trying to write an engaging story, not a travelogue. Writing about my lived experience of these places at specific times in history. I made sure of the places we lived, the institutions we encountered, some of the people, too.  Of course, some of these are combined characters in the book.

 GSP:

Tell us about some of these places.

 JBP:

The first place I called home was Los Angeles California, specifically, the University of California – Los Angeles (UCLA) where my father was completing his master’s degree in art education. Since, this was early in my life, I was grateful for time to ask my mother before she passed away for clarifications of places and times. I had some vivid memories and needed verification of some of these early events and the locations, particularly those memories that were suppressed. I was leery of just accepting the reality of these until I could confirm them. Of course, when one is small, the world is tremendous and one’s focus is pretty close at hand. So, my mother’s memory of these places was very helpful. For reasons that become obvious in the book, I did not ask her to confirm all of the events.

Looking back with adult understanding, insights can be derived that a small toddler mind could not comprehend, including adult intention. This is also the reason so many of my childhood memories seem distorted or of little use. It can be hard to establish undistorted facts – who, what, where, when. Moving from place to place helped me with a fairly accurate timeline of my life, but everything was written from my point of view.

About the age of five, my entire family left California via Route 66 for Chicago. My grandmother still lived in Oak Park and my father secured a position at Triton College, outside Chicago.

GSP:

Route 66 in the 1960s? Wow, that must have been exciting, right?

JBP:

In reflection through my memories, there were a few wondrous places for a five-yea-old. However, we travelled mostly at night, my parents trading off driving duties. And I have memory of my first comic book and getting carsick.

 GSP:

What was the comic book?

 JBP:

Mystery in Space with Adam Strange flying in space with his jet pack. I also got other comic books: Batman and a character called Metamorpho. Eventually, I vomited on them before we got to Chicago. I really liked comic books, but not car sickness. The next stop, my mother got some Dramamine for me, so I slept a lot of the rest of the trip. We arrived in Chicago, or rather Oak Park, where my grandmother lived. We arrived during the middle of the night. I remember my father bragging about how quick they drove, but, from my five-year-old perspective, I could not tell you how long a trip it was.

 GSP:

Your first impressions of Chicago?

 JBP:

Mostly a backyard metal swing set in my grandmother’s backyard. My grandmother was a babysitter while my parents worked on getting an apartment The first Chicago apartment was in a large dark building on Chicago Avenue.  I remember being in awe of how tall all the buildings seemed to be compared to my limited experience in southern California. Chicago seemed dark. So, my first impressions were tall buildings and lots of lights. The summery experience of southern California was soon far behind us and my first snowy winter was coming.

It was also my first experience with public schools. I had been fortunate to be part of the new Head Start program at UCLA. My Chicago public school initiation was difficult for me. I was fond of the old school buildings of Chicago. I do not recall anything that old in California. I loved walking through the immense hallways, the heavy wooden doors. They were very magical places to me as a child.  The teachers and other children were kind of scary to me. From those first impressions, Chicago became lighter for me as I got older.

In many ways, the cities, the houses, where we lived had unique personalities which had large impacts on my experience. They were characters that shifted like the students at the different schools of my childhood experience.

 GSP:

After Chicago?

 JBP:

In Chicago, my parents divorced and my mother remarried. For my stepfather, my mother’s pregnancy meant his first child, and for his parents - their grandchild. This became clear to three siblings under 8 years old (my sister, my brother, and me) when we were shipped to their maternal grandmother in Boulder City, Nevada. This first time it was an adventure, the second trip to my grandmother’s -a year later - was a bit more tragic. I combined both into one narrative for the book. I will not reveal much about that except to say that Nevada was a desert in more ways than one. For me, as a child, there was also this magical aspect to life there. However, I have not returned to Nevada since.

This place was so significant, that I fictionalized a conversation from Nevada during the real driving trip out west that my adult sister and mother went on towards the end of my mother’s life. It was something my sister told me about the place we lived in Nevada that gave me clarity for my own story. So, the book, my story, begins with my memory of the Nevada desert.

From that desert existence, my mother at the end of her second marriage, moved her 4 children to the San Francisco Bay area.

 GSP:

This was a very intense part of your story, both magical and tragic.

 JBP:

That mixture of childhood delights and tears continued – and continues to this day.  One of the books reviewers anticipated some of the traumas, as they know me personally. They were glad that the “bad stuff” seemed balanced with childhood play and other “good stuff.” They also appreciated the details I included.

 GSP:

So, back to California?

 JBP:

Well, it wasn’t the California from my early childhood. My mother had a high school friend that lived in Berkeley. So, that’s where we went. Only we could not afford to live in the hills where her friend lived with her professor husband. But with help of social services, we moved to the edge of Berkeley. We could walk into Oakland, if we wanted. It continued the story of the trauma and difficulty of Nevada, ending in a similar manner: another late-night geographic escape to a different state. After an eventful stop in Iowa, we ended up in Wisconsin.

 GSP:

That clarifies the title, but there is a side story throughout the telling of your story. It’s not just about your survival or your siblings’ resiliency. Your mother has a story in this as well, doesn’t she?

 JBP:

Yes. She has a lead role in my story. My father, as well. In fact, I could not complete the writing until they both had passed on, and my anxieties lessened a bit.

My mother had breast cancer and was in remission for many years. By the time it came back aggressively, my siblings and I were all adults. As she moved closer to the end, she seemed to want to resolve outstanding issues. I am not sure if she was conscious of the impact the tragic events and traumas had on us. I am not sure my siblings had much time to process any of it. I was fortunate to have a therapist and others along the way to help me navigate the treacherous and dangerous paths toward better mental and spiritual health – a difficult journey that continues into the present.

In the book, I included some of my issues and problems of healing as an adult to round out this part of my story.

 GSP:

In the book, you mention several ways you received help that nurtured your personal healing as an adult, but not as a child. At the same time, there seems to be a thread of spirituality and almost angelic protection throughout your childhood story.

JBP:

Let me take these separately.

Until my memory of being abused as a child was restored, I was completely ignorant of the reasons for my troubles relating to people. It seemed I drifted from one problem to another. I considered my memory to be thorough and complete, with many traumas and difficult times well within my understanding. My emotional stability started to deteriorate as the birth of my son drew nearer. I have come to learn this is very common for male survivors – the full or almost full repression of traumatic memory and the remembering predicated by a family life change, like a birth.

When early traumatic memories returned that I had not previously known, it was nearly as painful and surprising as when it first occurred. After they came back, I could never be the same. Every way I had used to get by as an adult was tossed aside. It was as if I started over in so many ways. I was fortunate that a safety net of therapists and healers was available for me at that time: individual therapists, group therapy, male survivor group, a special group for survivors becoming parents and the art of healing group of adult survivors using art to heal. I am profoundly grateful for all the help I was able to receive. I started to integrate those early disconnected memories in to the story I have finally written.

One of the issues that stressed me while completing the writing is what survivors call “being triggered.” It is part of post-traumatic stress syndrome, where the emotional-physical responses are “triggered” and revert to the time of the trauma. For me, some of the trauma was early in my childhood, when I did not know how to articulate what was happening. And so, as an adult, I would struggle to articulate what was happening to me, why I urgently needed to be safe, not even being conscious that I was being driven to be safe. As one might guess, this made my interpersonal relationships difficult. All I can say is that I am better now, finding safe people and clarifying some of my own needs.

Spirituality has always been important to me. There was so much “reporting” of events in some of the initial writing that writing was labored. It was when I allowed spirituality, those magical moments, to be included, that the full story began to take shape.

GSP:

Would you like to say anything else about that?

 JBP:

I believe that discovery in reading this book for those spiritual moments is best as curiosities and surprises.

As follow up to the healing I just discussed, I would like to mention that I contacted a couple of Male Survivor networks and will be contributing to them from the proceeds.

I received an encouragement from both Tom Maher of The Twin Cities Men’s Center in Minneapolis, and Nathan LaChine of the national MaleSurvivor Network resource.  Nathan LaChine sent a nice letter when I asked for a book review:

“I want to be the first to congratulate you on your book being published and let you know that it has been added to the MaleSurvivor Bookstore, CLICK HERE. At this time, we will not be writing a review of your book. This is not a reflection on your book, the work you put into it, or anything of that nature. We rarely if ever write public reviews for books.

“Again congratulates!"

   - Nathan LaChine, MaleSurvivor Board of Directors

    www.malesurvivor.org

    Donate to Give the Gift of Hope Healing Support

 

Twin Cities Men's Center can be reached at www.TCMC.org  612-822-5892

 

GSP:

Finally, what are your hopes for “Surviving Childhood in America, A Story”?

 

JBP:

My hope is that every story of recovery from childhood abuse and trauma can lead to healing; that there is hope for healing from the most traumatic events of our life, even if it takes a long time or takes a long time to begin; that every movement toward healing, however small, can be seen in the light of progress. Whatever shadow or darkness that our past can cast into our present life, healing angels can reach us and show us the way to wholeness and healing.

 

***

 

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“Surviving Childhood in America: A Story”

Signed copies are available in print from Gold Sun Press

eBook: Gold Sun Press (PDF or PUB).   

or through Amazon.com and all major on-line booksellers!

 

Surviving Childhood in America: A Story

NEW BOOK IS NOW AVAILABLE

 Surviving Childhood in America: A Story by John-Brian Paprock

 

Gold Sun Press is proud to announce the public release of its first book!

The book is based on the true story of one born in 1961 and takes place through the 1960s. It is dedicated by the author to all who survived childhood in America, especially to the author’s siblings with whom his own survival was assured.

 From the back cover: “With a dying mother, four children survived a cross-country trek from Los Angeles to Chicago to Las Vegas to San Francisco Bay to Madison, Wisconsin. Ian, the eldest, eventually found out what really happened.”

The book opens in a desert tract in Henderson, Nevada. Then the story follows Ian’s memories through four states, ten schools, with a broken family. His mother, who becomes a single parent, is on her own downward journey at the same time.

John-Brian is a published author of non-fiction and inspirational books and materials. He is also an award-winning artist and photographer. He was a founding member of Art of Healing project, for a public art show of adult survivors of childhood abuse, in 1995. John-Brian was ordained in his church, serving as a pastor, teacher, retreat leader, and hospital chaplain. After more than 30 years in Madison, Wisconsin, he has been living in the Twin Cities (Minnesota) for the last decade or so. 

Surviving Childhood in America: A Story - by John-Brian Paprock

397 pages, Print book, U.S. Trade paperback (6 x 9 in / 152 x 229 mm)

ISBN 978-1-300-88683-9 – Copyright 2024

List Price: $22.95 USD

Order at Surviving Childhood in America | GOLD SUN PRESS

https://www.goldsunpress.com/product-page/surviving-childhood-in-america

 Kindle version will be released later.

A portion of the proceeds will benefit programs for adult male survivor recovery from childhood abuse.

GOLD SUN PRESS

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MINNEAPOLIS, MN 55422

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Eulogy for My Step-Father

Richard E. Roderick - 2009 visit to Madison, Wisconsin

Eulogy for My Step-Father

By John-Brian Paprock



My step-father died on December 18, 2018.  I am not sure how to feel. When I found out, it was like a punch in the gut. I was stunned. My sadness and tears came later. 

When my biological father died, I knew he was dying and, before he passed, I was able to visit with him for a short time and pray with. In hind-sight, it was too short a time.   We had been greatly estranged through the years, having contact off-and-on over the years.  There were intense emotions at those contacts. The intensity obviously connected to the divorce when I was seven years old.

For all of those emotions related to my biological father, I do not have this same intensity for my step-father, who I joyfully called “Dad” in the idyllic life that came with him into our lives.  Richard rescued us (my sister Dara, my brother Matthew and I) from a poverty-stricken household in Chicago where parental alcohol abuse infused regular intense arguments.  He brought us to a large house in River Forest. He honored us and seemed genuinely interested in our well-being. He read classic books to us – Treasure Island, Three Musketeers, 20,000 Leagues under the Sea – acting out the dialogue with dramatic voices.  He taught me how to play chess, including the importance of strategy and the difference between game playing deception and inter-personal dishonesty. 

In reflection of the years Richard was actively my parent (which were only a few years), I always felt loved by him.  I always felt he loved my siblings. Even after his own son was born, he made sure that we were not dismissed or pushed aside to make room for his son. In fact, he made a special space for us that was never threatened. 

When his relationship with our mother deteriorated, Richard took moments as they were available to emphasize his love for us and told me that he did not want to leave us.  He continued to financially support us through the hellish years that followed until my mother hit alcoholic bottom.  He could not save us from that. Even his own son endured that hard time. He told me at a later time (when he invited me as a young adult living in NYC to visit him in his cabin home in Medford Lakes, New Jersey), he wished he could have done more in those years after he and my mother broke apart. 

In the few other occasions we visited over the years, Richard had his own issues and problems.  Maybe this observation is more one of seeing him as an adult and less as “Dad.”  It was very clear that we had our different lives and there were fewer occasions to connect, but it seems, in reflection, neither of us made the effort.

Although we did not talk much, when Richard visited Madison in 2009, I sat next to him at a diner, smiling. I was filled with reminisces of the time he was my “Dad.” That was the last time I was physically near him.  I got a photograph of him outside the diner, one of my cherished photographs.

We did talk a couple of times by phone and interacted a little bit online after that. It was a manner of communication that he did not prefer and, so, did not use it much. In those conversations, it was clear to me that Richard was struggling with a variety of issues. I told him I would pray for him and for the circumstances.  It was clear I would not be able to save him they way he saved us – sustain him the way he had sustained us through the dark and lean times – help him the way he helped us.

This is why I am not sure how to feel.  I feel a great loss of an important and consequential person in my life, but I am filled with gratitude for what Richard gave to me, to my siblings. The most important and the greatest gift has been my youngest brother, August. 

Toward the end of one of those telephone conversations, he told me that he kept a crayon drawing I gave him when I was seven-years-old in a frame on the wall in his office. He told me that it was a wonderful piece of art and would receive many compliments for which he would proudly say that “one of his sons” did it when he was in second grade.  It reminded him of a special time in his life.  I am grateful that we shared that special time.

And then he said, “Even if I don’t see you much or talk much these days, remember, I love you.”   Yes, Dad, of that I have no doubt.

(Eulogy given at Celebration of Life and internment, June 27, 2019 at Arlington Park Cemetery, Pennsauken Township, New Jersey)

Transmit True and Brightly

Transmit True and Brightly

By Nancy Summers

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NANCY SUMMERS (1940-2000) Poetry from 40 years of writing by Midwestern mystic and musician, spiritual leader and mother, Nancy Summers - edited by her son, John-Brian Paprock. Over 150 poems are gathered into seven chapters. From Nancy’s youth in Oak Park, Illinois during the middle class 1950s through the 1960s in the urban centers of Los Angeles and Chicago, she wrote during the most transformative time in America. After personal tragedy, she landed with her children in Madison, Wisconsin in the 1970s – her physical home for the rest of her life. Her spiritual home was in Orthodox Christianity. She became a spiritual light, a leader and mentor, dispersing the darkness of this world. This collection deserves a place in American literature and in the hearts of all who encounter it.

Product Details

ISBN   9780578206974

Copyright Holy Transfiguration Publications (Standard Copyright License)

Edition First Edition

Publisher Holy Transfiguration Publications

Published June 23, 2018

Language English

Pages 214

Binding Perfect-bound Paperback

Interior Ink Black & white

Weight 0.83 lbs.

Dimensions (inches) 6 wide x 9 tall

Thirty Years of Regular Monthly Discussion

Madison Inter-religious Dialogue:

Thirty Years of Regular Monthly Discussion - July 11, 2018

A Reflection by Rev. Fr. John-Brian Paprock

Can a few local people from different faith traditions effect positive change in the world?

Part of a global movement of interfaith dialogue, the growing energy for a global meeting of religions, and growing interconnectedness through internet media, every local meeting of those of different faith traditions in person seem to add to a growing sense of hope and peace for the future of this world.

Thirty years ago, a committee was formed to have a centennial celebration of the Parliament of World’s Religions that had gathered in Chicago at the world exposition in 1893.  Thirty years ago, Joseph Campbell was interviewed by Bill Moyers about the Power of Myth, exploring the common themes in religious traditions. Thirty years ago, in the year of the dragon, the Madison Inter-religious Dialogue started.

As a newly ordained Eastern Christian priest in my first mission parish, I was eager to serve the community, not just our small mission, but the community at large.  I met with Charles Pfeiffer at Madison Urban Ministry and I asked where I might get direction for service.  I was grateful he recommended the newly formed group, MID. He said he didn’t really know that much about the new group, but did know one of the founding participants, George Hinger. 

I had studied various faith traditions and symbology, informally and formally, and delighted in the opportunity for conversation. I did not, at that time, appreciate the power of dialogue.

Feeling particularly young and secure in my faith, I joined the monthly discussion group during a time of exploration.  We all took turns leading a religious rite or ceremony with the group.  I spoke with my Orthodox Christian elders and leaders and was allowed to do a traditional Blessing of Water for Epiphany at the St. Benedict Center. I enjoyed all the presentations during that period of the dialogue.  

I wasn’t always able to participate in the dialogue. Either the time of day (a discussion at the dialogue for years, I recall), day of the week, or personal or professional issues conflicted with the meetings.  Nevertheless, the faithful note-takers of the group kept me informed with meeting minutes and announcements.  Knowing it has continued through the years has been a reassurance of the ideal of our common humanity – that we share this world and this existence with others who have different beliefs and perspectives – and still peaceful dialogue continues. 

One of my deep-felt understandings that the Madison Inter-religious Dialogue has affirmed is simple: we do not have to agree on anything to get along, we need only grow in respect and honor by listening.  George Hinger’s commitment to this principle has been inspiring.  Because of this, I am honored to have friendships and connections with people of many different faiths not just in Wisconsin, but throughout the world! Because of this, my own faith and devotion has deepened.

Thank you for the Dialogue and for the opportunity to participate. I am forever grateful for the experience.

God bless everyone who has been a participant in this Dialogue through the years (especially the faithful note-takers).  God grant you many many years!

May light shine in all our dark moments. May peace prevail!

O Lord heal my heart

O Lord heal my heart that I may feel loved - clear the cries from my throat that I may praise Your wondrous good gifts in my life just beyond the veil of my tears. O Lord defeat the enemies of my existence both within and without that seek to take me from Your ways - let them not fill me with death and defeat and despair so that I am immobilized, nor fill my limbs with the heaviness of lonliness, nor fill my heart with the tears of abandonment. Show them O Lord how You will help Your servant out of the pits, how You will cover me under Your gentle wings so that I can be filled with the light of Your love and move me from the brink of harm, pain and woundedness. Show the enemies of Your servants how You heal Your servants and enable them for Your work and how You are a constant help in their hours and days of weaknesses. Lift me up above the caves of sorrow, so hollow, so empty. Help me get through the darkness. Help me O Lord for Your promises are great for those that love You. You lend Your strength, Your goodness, Your love to those in need when they ask. If there is anything that I have done that has taken me from Your holy and true ways, restore me and forgive me, treat me according to Your gentleness and Your mercy. Make my heart light and filled with love once again.

Matthew's Voice



Matthew By The Lake - (Photograph by John-Brian Paprock, Paprock Photography 2015)
Taken along the north shore of Lake Mendota across the water from Madison Wisconsin in 2014

My younger brother Matthew died on November 3rd, 2015 at the age of 49 years old. I was grateful he asked for the opportunity to see him at the hospital before he died. He had requested the doctors do everything to keep him going until my brother (August), my sister (Dara) and I could be there. He wanted to celebrate his 50th birthday, but that was not until January. So, we decided to have a 50th birthday cake and balloons and a card on November 1st. He also wanted to watch his Green Bay Packers play - they played that night.

 

Celebration of my brother's 50th birthday - half a century of life! Before the Packer game. Photograph by John Summers.



 

At my brother's bedside on November 1st. Photograph by August Roderick.



 



Saying good bye was difficult - both a very loving and a very sad time. We played cards a last time. We remembered. We joked. We laughed. We cried. We forgave everything, he and I, for brothers often have some baggage that weighs on their relationship. He was freed from such burdens. I told he would be missed. I found an old picture of him and me in Chicago, before our  youngest brother was born.

Matthew (5 years old) and John-Brian (10 years old) in Chicago.
The only time one would be twice as old as the other. 
This picture is symbolic of the bond with my brother that would last a lifetime.

 

This is the letter I read as eulogy at my brother's Ninth Day Memorial at Assumption Greek Orthodox Church in Madison, Wisconsin.

 

Dear Matthew,

 

I want to hear your voice again, dear brother Matthew; the caring loving familiar voice of  my younger brother; the voice that joked and played and  laughed and, yes, fought, as brothers can.

 

I want to hear your voice again, even if it means listening to profound fear seeping through the joy and love during your last days; or listening to the lamenting of lost love, or the ranting of frustration with a system that you could not fight any more. I hoped you would fight back as you always did and hold your ground, but you could not this time. You always wanted to stand tall without help from anyone, until pain curled your back and walking required a cane.

 

In our childhood, we played together as best friends, especially during the lonely years when we moved from place to place with a mother who was searching for her own salvation and sobriety. She found both when we came to Madison. And you, my dear brother, found your very own home-sweet-home. You got to grow up here, attending every school year in the same school system. You found in Madison, a safe home base and friends, lots and lots of friends, many you have had most of your life. It seems proper to have finished your life here in Madison.

 

Yet, I would hear your voice again. That voice that would reach across distances of miles and weeks just to say “hello.”  I will miss our card games and our discussions of the spiritual and the mundane. I will miss watching football with you.  I am filled with joyous memories of our life as family and friends. 

 

I will always be grateful for the opportunity you gave us at the end. Thank you for the love you shared during your last waking hours. Thank you for the hug as I kissed your hand. I held it as tight as I could.  Thank you the shared tears at “good bye” and “good journey.” Thank you for being my faithful brother and my dutiful friend. My dear brother, I wish I could hear your voice and see your smile one more time, but I cannot.  You passed away quietly and peacefully in the evening of November 3rd.  We are brothers forever and I will miss you the rest of my life.  Eternal memory, my dearest brother Matthew.

 

 

Ninth Day Memorial service at Assumption Greek Orthodox Church, Madison, Wisconsin. November 12, 2015. 
Fr. Michael Vanderhoef officiated. The church Philoptochos Society made traditional koliva for us. 
The cups on the table were left after koliva was served to the ~50 people that came to the memorial. A
 picnic celebration memorial of my brother's life is being planned for warmer months at his favorite Madison park.