A tribute to John . . .

“Coming to the realization that God was asking me the very same questions brought back an old quote, ‘God helps those who help themselves’. I have an utterly magnificent gift that I spent half a lifetime keeping to myself. Life is good . . . ; I thank my maker just for that every day of my life. Love you..." 

You know me. I like to talk about our gifts. I believe we each have something to contribute to life.

One of the most gifted people I have ever known and loved made the above comment to me last year. You see for many years he didn’t acknowledge his gifts. He lived in a world of his own, trying to run away from the pain of losses in his life by getting lost in a bottle. That would surely protect him and others from more loss and pain. Or so he reasoned.

There were times he wanted to die. He tried. It didn’t work. An industrial accident put him in a coma for two weeks. He came out of the coma, and there were several months of recovery. Even after all that, he tried again with his “friend” the bottle. He was found in the nick of time.

He was a gifted man, my nephew. Even when he was fighting his demons, his gifts managed to sneak through. He was very creative, and even as a young boy enjoyed building things in his grandpas’ workshops. At one time he talked about being an architect. He was excited about the new technologies in the industry, and this was more than 20 years ago. He was a brilliant artist- especially of religious subjects. He completed a nearly life-size crucifix that is breathtaking.  Even done under the influence.

Another more recent effort was his rendition of The Last Supper. The story goes that some guys had a piece of cardboard on which they were going to design a game board. My nephew took a look at it, and saw a full-color, detailed Last Supper instead. At least it was when he was finished.

Even at his worst times, he thought of others in ways he probably didn’t even understand. He was no saint, definitely a sinner (as we all are). But he had a gift that touched people regardless of how much he tried to hide it.

Finally, he realized life was worth living, and love was worth the risk. He not only realized how much he loved people, he realized they loved him, too. Relationships were on the mend.  His desire was to bring family together.

Not only did he have gifts to share- he realized Who they were from. Joy comes with that realization and acknowledgement. He had physical challenges now- he had been diagnosed with MS a few years earlier, and had residual effects from the industrial accident in particular- but those didn’t diminish his purpose and joy in sharing his gifts. He shared them with everyone- just as it was meant to be. He was a regular fixture at a local nursing care center. He brought life and love to many people, staff and residents alike. And, he accomplished an outstanding milestone- two years of sobriety. The future was full of possibilities.

Then on a Sunday morning in late February, the unthinkable happened. This person who had just begun to live the life he was meant to have was suddenly gone in a tragic accident.

At first glance, it appears to be what some would term a cruel twist of fate. Two years was not nearly long enough for someone starting life over. And it was not long enough for those who loved him. It hurts too much.

But while the man is gone, his gifts seem to keep giving. His family has come together just as he hoped.  His artwork has been seen by more people than he ever imagined. The nursing home where he spent many hours talking and visiting with people honored him with a tree planting. At the ceremony, residents shared their gifts and talents in honoring him. His compassion, joy and love will long be felt there.

John K. Sinclair challenged me, inspired me, and admittedly added some intensity to my prayer life. I could not love John and his brother Mark any more than if they were my own. I was 10 when John was born, and 14 when Mark arrived, so it seems that they have always been a part of my life. Mark is an awesome man, too.

I knew I would write about this. I need to do so. The shock and pain were hurdles though, I must admit. But I thought about John and what he would think of all this. I know he would be astounded at the outpouring of love for him- from everyone. But he would not want us to stop living and sharing what we can with others.

So, John- this is my tribute to you. My beloved nephew with all your quirkiness, talents, insecurities, blue eyes and good looks, spirituality, inquisitiveness, charm, sense of humor, love of family, and so much more. You are loved and much missed.

So, my dear readers, never take life for granted. No one is promised tomorrow. 

DeSwan.com