John Summers

As a boy, John was known for scarfing an entire box of stuffing before dinner as an appetizer. He would order two entrées at a restaurant and polish off an entire frozen pizza all by himself—sometimes on the same night. His family knew to get all they wanted at a meal before John ensured there were no leftovers. As he got older, his tastes leaned toward Texas barbecue and he sampled sauce like some sample wine, always searching for a new favorite. Food made him happy, but the people gathered around the table mattered the most.

John graduated from Clear Creek High School in 1988 and then studied media at the University of Houston. He worked as a content management specialist with SCI, where colleagues respected him as someone who was always eager to learn, improve and help out. But work was only a small part of who John was. His greatest priorities were faith and family.

As a devoted member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, John believed the greatest expression of his love of God was service. He completed a mission in Detroit as a young man, led a Cub Scouts troop for six years, created church programs and logos with his creative talents, and volunteered endlessly to assist where needed. Whether it was a church member, neighbor or extended family in Colombia, John never hesitated to help. Family and friends remember him as selfless, dependable and someone who always showed up. He loved the Lord and sincerely tried to do his best by God and man every day.

And then there was Andrea and their three children: Jerry, Sofia and Gaby.

John and Andrea met at a Halloween party in 2002. What first caught her attention wasn’t his costume—he wasn’t wearing one—it was the way he danced. A proud Texan who dressed in Wrangler jeans and cowboy shirts, John was a modern-day Gene Kelly. He could swing dance, country dance and confidently spin a partner around the floor. When he plopped down next to Andrea at that party and asked where she was from, he heard her answer and began spouting facts about Colombia. He knew everything from the capital city to how many bird species live there. She was impressed by his enthusiasm and knowledge of her home country. A few months later, when her dad told her he thought it was time for her to find a good man and settle down, Andrea replied, “I already have.”

The two wed a year later, but John didn’t just marry Andrea. He wrapped his arms around her family and their culture. The night before their wedding, he even secretly arranged for a seven-piece mariachi band to surprise her family, honoring a beloved Colombian tradition. His thoughtfulness blew Andrea away.

Her family embraced him, too. They lovingly called him The Original Gringo at family gatherings, where he was often the only White guy in the room. Though he didn’t care for rice and beans, he never missed a chance to salsa dance.

Laughter and music were the heartbeat of John and Andrea’s home, and John was the kind of father who showed up in ways both big and small. Jerry learned how to fix just about anything by his dad’s side, and the two would talk about history and religion into the wee hours of the morning. When Sofia was a baby who struggled to sleep, John sang “Silent Night” over and over until she finally drifted off. Years later, she still counted on him to be the calm, steady voice to always help her see things more clearly.

And Gaby never had to wonder whether her father believed in her. John was her No. 1 fan, standing on the sidelines of her soccer games with a handmade 10-foot team flag, wearing team colors and passing out bells so every parent in the stands could make some noise. Even after being diagnosed with cancer, he insisted on driving Gaby to practices and analyzing each match afterward. If his children were involved, John wanted to be there.

Long before John became a devoted husband and father, he was a devoted son. He was especially close to his mother, Sonja, talking with her nearly every day until her death and helping her whenever she needed him. When Andrea told her father that she had already found the man she would marry after meeting John only a handful of times, she explained why: He loved Jesus Christ, he loved serving others, and he loved his mother. That’s all she needed to know, to know that he was a good man.

He was also a man determined not to let his long illness become his identity. Many didn’t realize he was ill, and for five years after his diagnosis, John continued to show up—for family weddings, church, soccer games, vacations and ordinary moments. His faith sustained him through years of pain. He believed Jesus Christ carries burdens that no one was meant to bear alone. He felt his Savior beside him through his illness, and that faith gave him the strength to keep going longer than any doctor could explain.

One of Andrea’s greatest comforts is that her children will remember their father exactly as he wanted to be remembered—not defined by sickness, but as a loving, engaged dad who always wanted to be by their sides.

Those who knew John best describe him the same way: tenderhearted, kind and willing to listen. His consistency made people feel seen. His humanity stood out. Whether someone needed encouragement, practical help or simply a sounding board, John was there.

John often said he felt like the richest man alive—not because of what he owned, but because his teenage children still wanted to spend time with him and because he had an awesome wife. In the end, those were the treasures he valued most.

John’s legacy remains in countless acts of service, unwavering faith and family he cherished with his whole heart. He showed up for the people God entrusted to him, day after day, year after year, and that example will live on in everyone fortunate enough to have known and loved him.