John Staunton

Life can be very unfair. Losing someone you love is hard. Missing them from thereon in is harder still. To reflect on such a devastating loss, to have to let the news of it sink in, to feel the unbearable pain of grief, of sadness, and sometimes of regret, is easy when life appears to be at its most unjust. And in this case it appears to be just that. John has died. He is gone and went far too young. It isn’t fair, it isn’t right. The crying starts, the pity creeps in.

But John deserves better than our tears and our sadness and our anger at his loss. He’s earned more than that, especially over the last year. He deserves our admiration and our pride at the fact that he stretched the short time he was given to live into fourteen whole months. He made every second of that time count and despite having limited options in the end, we should feel admiration and pride that he left us on his own terms. On Tuesday, 13 October, John passed away peacefully, painlessly; he was happy, and he was very much loved.

He was so much more than a mere cancer patient. He was a son and a brother. He was a cousin and an uncle. He was a husband, a godfather and a colleague. He was a friend. And he fought unbelievably hard, with every ounce of dignity and courage he could summon, to stay with us for as long as he could. And maybe if the battle could have been fought with sarcasm, one- liners, and the ability to roll his eyes a full 360 degrees to heaven he might still be with us. Because John was a born comedian too, which is why he was always in his element in the middle of a crowd. And he was more still – he was a gardener, a sun worshipper, a swimmer, a football fan, an aggressively competitive bingo player.

But he was more than that still. That he rose to the insurmountable challenge he was faced with a year ago in a way which most people would not be capable of following demonstrates the hidden depths of someone we thought we knew well, but who continues to amaze and surprise us even now that he’s gone. His life, like him, was colourful – an amazing adventure which brought him on many travels, gave him many experiences, and which made him life- long friends along the way.

As is often said in similar situations, it’s not the years in the life that counts at the end but the life in the years. John lived a full life that we can all aspire to. As hard as it seems, now is not a time for sadness. It’s a time to feel inspired, to feel proud. Proud of John and the mark he left on this earth and on all of us.