Where does one even begin to describe the overwhelming sadness when they discover an old high school friend suddenly passed. I was stunned. Said to myself, “John Konior’s dead?” I couldn’t believe it. We were both 65. Much too young to leave this world.
Our friendship didn’t extend much beyond our high school years. Yet, as I read his obituary, the sense of loss I felt for his wife, Julie, and family overtook me. Though I didn’t know Julie as I did John, we were in the same grade in high school. I didn’t know much about their life together, yet, my heart ached terribly for her and their three grown children, and their grandchildren. Being a grandfather myself I can relate for the love John had for them.
As I processed this grief over the next few hours, I kept asking myself why was I so grieved by John’s death. In the past forty-seven years since we graduated high school we had not kept in touch or been part of each other’s lives beyond a few years after school. We had been part of an Instrumentation program in high school for three years, from grade ten through grade twelve. It was a small program with twelve students. We shared the same homeroom during the program, and in addition to two daily instrumentation classes, we would take two or three other classes together, related classes such as drafting or electrical. The bottom line is when twelve teenage boys spend four to five hours a day together for three years a lot of bonding happens.
In the group there were three or four of us that were more outspoken in class. John and I were both part of that. We joked around a lot, teased each other and our classmates a lot. You can’t help but grow close. High school was an important part of my life. I loved it. John was a big part of that.
John and I were two of six students from our instrumentation class who started our apprenticeship in instrumentation together at Dofasco, immediately after high school. We spent three years taking night school classes together, as part of our apprenticeship.
Seldom over these past forty-seven years would my reflections about those years at high school and our apprenticeship, not include great times with John. Since pondering about this sense of grief I’ve come to the conclusion that John was what I’ll call a memory anchor. He represented a happy part of my life; so, it comes as no surprise that his passing hit me hard.
If John had not been a nice guy, I doubt he’d be a memory anchor. But he was a great guy. I often thought of him as a gentle giant. He was a big guy in school. Larger than life, even as a young man. He captained the football team and his leadership abilities carried into the pool for water polo. He was just an all-around nice guy.
I went to the visitation at the funeral home to offer Julie my condolences. I looked at the beautiful pictures that highlighted a life lived with love and passion for his family. I heard others talk about how much they admired John. How he touched their lives.
Though we were part of each other’s lives at school and our early careers at Dofasco, we didn’t ever hang out or see each other outside of those circles. I did have a chance to see John at our high school’s 40th and 50th reunions. The last being in 2017. When I saw the beautiful pictures of John’s life at the funeral it made me happy to see the full life he lived. I feel for Julie and his family’s loss. He’ll be missed.
I applaud you John for the man you were, for the way you loved, and the passion you had for your family and friends. I thank you for the great memories.
May the love you had for your family bring them peace.
Beautiful hommage, Steve.
Thanks Denise.