Hey Dad – it’s your Jenny Benny. I have been procrastinating writing this out for some time. I have this silly idea that if I don’t write this out…none of it is a reality. That’s how it works, right? If I don’t put it into existence, it just isn’t real? Right??? Oh, who am I kidding…It has been a rough 6 months without you, Dad. It really has. You could say that nighttime has been the hardest for me. I still go and check your room out of habit, and I usually find myself looking down the hall to see if you’re asleep at the kitchen table like you always were. It’s when I see your empty chair that reality sinks back in most of the time. I still look out the window waiting for your headlights to shine on the garage like they would whenever you came home from Monday night board meetings too. I’m still waiting for you to return home. I keep hoping maybe it’ll happen, but I know deep down you’re not hurting anymore. So, while there is that selfish part of me that wishes it was all a nightmare and that you were returning home from a long trip…I know you’re finally at peace with Hannah and Buffy - spoiling them rotten like you did for so many years. I also know you’re probably eating as much chicken as you possibly can up there too. I really hope you’re at peace.


I want to make sure I express just how thankful I am for having you as my Dad. You were there for everything all 25 years that we got to share together, and it has been hard not seeing you every single day. While I had a good, happy childhood, I also was able to experience the world of politics with you. That isn’t something every kid got to experience. I can proudly say that. I don’t think you ever realized just how much going to those Monday night meetings with you meant to me. I was your #1 fan sitting in the front row with Sharon, taking notes just like her (Tell her I said hello, by the way). I went to every function, every fundraiser, and I even planned on running for Mayor one day because of you. I saw the ambition and drive you had as Trustee. I wanted to be just like you.


Aside from the days of politics, I will forever cherish the millions of memories I got to create with you. The White Sox games we would go to every single summer, the road trips we took which led to you blasting your music as loud as your speakers would let you, the pool days we had where you fell asleep 99% of the time and somehow never burned, the New Year’s Eve’s that we had where you had so many snacks ready, the late nights of helping me with science projects (I’ll never forget the Physics project where you helped Mariana and I somehow melt marshmallows and harden them so we would balance those school books on top of it. Same with the egg project! You always found ways for us to cheat the system - and our grades thank you for that), the times you would make snacks and bring them for Desi and I whenever we were hanging out at home (she still talks about that 12 years later, by the way…). Basically, every moment I’ve had with you? I am going to cherish them. Any moment you thought maybe I didn’t care, or I wasn’t paying attention? I did. I was. I always did. I always was.


Before you left, you had me make a promise. The same promise Papa (Don) had you make to him before he passed many many years ago. I won’t express what that promise was on here, but I plan on never breaking that promise. I hope I am continuing to make you proud, Dad. I’m doing my best to follow your advice and surround myself with those that I know will have my back. I’ve had my eye-opening moments for sure, and I have taken those as a sign from you. You always told me “You’ll understand when you’re older, Jenny.” whenever I’d ask a certain question as a kid. I finally have realized what you meant. It took almost 26 years, but I finally get it. 


While I have had positive breakthroughs these past few months (eye-opening moments, a new job in a better environment - I got outta there like I told you I would) …there are some things that I think I will always be angry about though, Dad. No matter how much time passes.  I hate knowing you will never get to fully see me move out on my own. I hate knowing that you will never get to see me get married or have children. I hate knowing that you’ll never get to walk me down the aisle. I hate knowing that my kids will never get to meet you. I hate that you left just as I was starting to live my life. You only got to see a split second of it. I will forever be angry about that. Not at you…but at life itself. I can guarantee one thing though…whenever I do have children? They WILL know about you. Every goofy moment, every White Sox game, every music jam we have…they will know it’s from you. I will continue those small traditions we had. Every weird joke that comes out of my mouth? Every random snack I make on a Sunday afternoon? It’ll be from you. It’ll be all you. Mom tells me I’m becoming like you more and more each day. That saying used to scare me a lot, but now... I’m happy. Because I know your quirks and traits will continue to live on.


I love you, Dad. I miss you terribly…no photo, video or voicemail will ever change that. I miss you.


Eggs & Bacon…and Chocolate Cake, Dad. Eggs & Bacon…and Chocolate Cake. Arf!

John has always been like a father to me, ever since I met him through Jenny my freshman year of high school. And even 12 years later, he still remained the most caring, open-hearted person to me and my family. John, Jenny and Sue quickly became a part of my family as well and John became the fatherly figure that I’ve always missed since I lost my own father. I have endless fond memories of him, from working in the yard to bringing snacks to me and Jenny. He will be deeply missed, but he will be in my heart, forever and always.

Dad, 

No amount of words, pictures or memories can replace your absence.  You were a father, grandfather, husband, uncle, breadwinner, politician, drummer, Chicago Sports Fan,  stubborn, hardworking, and thousands of other words and descriptions that are escaping me at the moment.  


Our relationship was as strong as a father and son could be when I was growing up.  Then you become a teenager and get older and the lyrics to ‘Cat’s in the Cradle’ start to hit you a different way.  You always threw yourself into your work, 110% whatever it was:  your job, trustee position in the city, even as a little league coach! It’s just who you were.  It’s who I am too.  Adding in 90 miles between our homes on top of busy schedules meant we didn’t get to see each other as much as we both would’ve liked.  


Between cancer and your heart, the final year was a difficult battle.  You fought as hard as you could.  And as much as I miss you, I’m glad your suffering is over.  It was extremely hard to see you in and out of the hospital, back and forth to the doctors and chemo therapy.  Your medical calendar looked like a business executive’s planner.  You didn’t like people to see you at less than your best, but I am so glad I made several trips to see you in the hospital.  As difficult as it was seeing you like that, those are moments and conversations I’ll hold dearly, especially the 4-letter expletives hurled at the Chicago Bears.  


I love and I miss you Dad.  
P.S. When Felix sees a butterfly, he says "there’s Papa John!"  



To my brother John,
You will live on in my heart forever.  I've seen you at your best full of energy and fun.  You were always working hard I guess we got that from Dad.  Like you said to me at your last appointment as we were driving back to your house you said, Robin remember when I used to walk in the doctor's office with you and now you're wheeling me in.  I wasn't really thinking about it in that way because every time I've seen him he was fighting his illness with every ounce of energy he 
had.  We talked, we laughed even though his health and body were declining his mind and spirit was strong.  The special memories I've shared with him are unique, like no other, after all he's my brother.
To Sue, Johnathon and Jenny my sincere condolences.  Your Husband, Your Dad, My Brother, My kids Uncle, the memories we've all shared will stay alive in each of us forever.  Love, Robin

Hey Bro, 
Strong, confident, always in control, (all hands-on deck), ambitious, compassionate, spirited and supportive when I needed to talk.  I’ll always think of you when I play this song…"He ain’t Heavy he’s my Brother” The Hollies. 
 
Some of my favorite memories growing up with you was playing fast pitch baseball together with you and Dave. Also, the many times we played basketball in the garage even though you always kicked my ass. Lol.  I remember you waking me up so early in the morning a few times to go fishing at Loon Lake where you showed me how to row and fish.  Also, I remember you driving me around in your AMC Gremlin with the Levi’s denim seats, taking me to practice, or dropping me off at a friend’s house and showing up at my school performances. And my favorite was playing music with you on the drums, Dave on the guitar and me on the bass singing together.
 
Later as adults, taking our journey down the beautiful Kickapoo river in Wisconsin where we canoed and portaged for several days and nights laughing so hard till it hurt. And like the river, life takes many twists and turns and though our family lives changed, we always found the time to reconnect at family gatherings, weddings and anniversaries, barbeques, to play games and softball and reminisce.
 
And of course, I’ll miss your great big bear hugs too!   I love you Bro…we’ll be together again in my dreams and in the end.   



With warm memories of time spent with John at family get togethers. May Sue and Jenny gain strength from each other during this difficult time of loss.

Jerry & Dianne Georgen

A comforting thought...
Love, Your Cousin Debbie

John I spent four years sitting next to you at our Monday night board meetings.  You will be missed. I’m glad I got to talk to you not that long ago. Rest In Peace. Prayers for All your loved ones.
Mark & Lynn Dwyer

Our hearts ached when we heard the news that Johnny had passed. We were not aware that he had been suffering for a while. 

As cousins, we all used to spend so much time together when we were children but time passes, we all grow up & go our separate ways. Except for the funerals of our parents, the last time we got together for a joyous occasion was at Marla’s house when we celebrated our Dad’s 99th birthday. Johnny came with his kids & we got to meet Jenny & Jonathan. 

We love you all. 
Our thoughts are with you!

Memories of John,  range from a pesty little brother to someone I could depend on. John blessed me with a nephew, Jonathan and niece, Jenny. I can see John in both of them. l will miss your raspy voice and wonderful smile. And the embarrassing story of the boys swim team practice. But most of all.. I will miss you. 

Love,  your big sister, Susan

Sue and Family,
So sorry to hear this. I knew I hadn't heard from John in awhile but was not aware of his serious illness. I always enjoyed  communicating with John. He was a very professional and I always enjoyed working with him. May the Lord give you comfort and peace. Take care,  Lois Crocker - Durham Co.


So many good memories of family time and I could even say some scars (haha…. I can laugh now)  going to my Uncle Johns house…   I will forever love and miss you.

OBITUARY

John R. Shapiro

June 19, 1953 – December 23, 2021

Blake-Lamb Funeral Home

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