There was much ado about his arrival into the family. His very presence was enveloped by surprise from all corners, welcome by some and dreaded by others. If the prophecy of the old ones would hold true, the kick from within the womb preceded the arrival of a “person of the cloth”. Would that this be true, for the antithesis of the prophecy foretold anguish to established morality. Nonetheless, he was welcomed with unconditional love from all, awe and wonderment at the Mystery of Mysteries.
There was much ado about his time and trial in this Earthly realm. The strength and willfulness of a Baby Bull from the outset. At every step and snort, a full engagement of the path less traveled. In the hand of dreams, no mountain too high. In the hand of contradiction, no crevice without fathom. The tempering of one’s passions is an art of survival for some, a skill without comprehension for others. At every turn, he was unconditionally loved by all.
There was much ado about his exit from our presence. A weak heart in the guise of the lionhearted was the rumor. Perhaps it is best we never know. Grimly reaped are the walls that enshroud a needless and senseless death. As the final breath fades, the waning spark of Hope surrenders to that realm of Grief which no river of tears can express. For he was unconditionally loved by all.
There has been much ado since his departure. Some would have him written into the odyssey of a folk hero. Perhaps they should be privy to the faith and anguish of a devout Catholic mother. Certainly he left his mark, everywhere he sojourned and in everyone he touched. For he was unconditionally loved by all.
Farewell, Brother John. You can never leave us, for we now carry you, alive and well, within our hearts. You are unconditionally loved by all.
With the heart of a lion and the sensitivity of an innocent child, he now rides beyond the sunset with all that is untamable.