From Cindi

Uncle John was very special to me. I remember in high school I would always wear toe socks to church and Uncle John would forever harass me about them. I kept telling him I was going to buy him some for Christmas. I don't know whether or not he believed me, but, when he opened his present from me at the Braun gathering that year, he laughed. I can still hear him laughing as he said "Oh Cynthia!" and putting on his socks. I had bought us matching ones and somewhere in my box of pictures I have a picture of us modelling our socks together.
He always called me Cynthia. There are very few people in this world who can call me that without it bugging me. Uncle John always said it in such an endearing way with a hint of a laugh in his voice. It was like we had some sort of secret inside joke that he thought of everytime we talked.

Uncle John knew how to make a person feel special. I remember going to watch Trevor play football with him. I know he went, not because he really cared obout the game, although I know he loved pretty much any football game. He went because I mattered to him. And because Trevor mattered to me, and thus mattered to him too. He told me about how he liked to sit with the opposing teams fans; how much fun he thought it was.
Uncle John loved my kids. You can't do anything that matters more to a mother than love her kids and he definitely did that. Chloe loved all the special hugs from him at church. I remember the first Sunday after having Tristan that we were both at church. He had just finished his last Saskatoon transplant and we had colds. I told him we were sick when he came to meet Tristan but he said I don't care, give me that boy. He hugged him close and said, "Oh Cynthia, he's just beautiful!"

I don't know how to end this, so I'll leave it with this.

I love you Uncle John