Six Years Ago

Like any other day, I went to work.

I sat in staff meeting.

I was irritated with my co-workers.

I started through the piles on my desk.

The phone rang.

It was my mom.

She told me I needed to go home, and she would call me back.

She wanted to talk to my boss.

I left, full of questions, but confident I would be back soon.

Rebecca met me at the house.

We waited for the phone call.

I answered it.

It was my dad.

"Rachael, your brother John died this morning."

Rebecca was sitting on the stairs.

I was standing in living room.

She started screaming.

After that, things were a blur. I remember packing my bags, making arrangements for my dog, waiting for a ride to Logan. Rebecca and I sat in the back seat of my dad's friend's car on the long drive to Logan.

Little was said.

So many questions ran through my mind.

The tears wouldn't stop.

We got to the house.

Peace.

I have never felt the Spirit of God as strongly as when I walked in the door of my parent's home. Everyone was gathered in the living room. The Bishop was there. For some reason the tears stopped. Peace prevailed.

Months and months later we still never had any physical answers on the cause of my brother's death. To this day we still do not know why. All we can rely on is our testimonies of God's plan, and knowledge that we will be reunited again.

My brother John was amazing. The Herald Journal (the local newspaper) published this article about him:



Goodbye to a bright star
10/06/02 Arrin Brunson

It’s been dark and dreary in Cache Valley all week. The sun still comes up every morning like it always has, but it is shining somewhere else. The same is true for John Patrick Nolan, who died Monday after a short life of only 22 years.

During his lifetime John’s mother, Renee Nolan, retooled the words to the well-known song, “You are my sunshine” and often told her first son, “You are my son. Shine.” I don’t know much about the details of John’s passing, except that he died of natural causes. I do know many of the details of John’s life and am dedicating this news space to him today because his extraordinary experience demands it and, because after days of trying, I still can’t write about anything else.

John did shine, and his parents, siblings, extended family and friends are comforted by the belief that he is shining in a better place now, after living a life above reproach. He accomplished more in his short life than many of us will in a long lifetime.

Like many of the people I interview and write about, John first touched my life as I worked on a news story about his remarkable gifts, talents and efforts back in May 1999. John learned to read when he was two years old and began writing DOS computer programs when he was in third grade. Using his chart-topping IQ, Nolan began his college education at age 15 with advanced placement classes at Logan High School and the concurrent enrollment program at USU. He earned about 40 college credits during his sophomore year of high school and convinced school officials to let him go to USU full time as a junior. John continued his concurrent studies and graduated from Logan High School while carrying a full schedule of challenging courses at the university year-round. Though a scholarship paid for John’s tuition, he bought his books and paid the other expenses by working as a dishwasher at Logan Nursing & Rehabilitation Center.

John was only 19 years and 9 days old when he graduated from Utah State University with a bachelor’s degree in computational mathematics. He served an LDS mission and returned to USU to earn a master’s degree, which will be awarded posthumously at graduation ceremonies in May. I’ve been told that John was headed for Stanford next year to earn his doctorate.

He was a talented musician and traveled internationally playing the viola with a string quartet. He was a member of USU’s ballroom dance club and did much more than dance in this organization. He served in whatever capacity was needed, and enjoyed doing so.

Although John’s genius and hard work gave him unlimited potential, in my opinion these were not his greatest qualities. I got to know him better when he returned from his mission and took a job as the Herald Journal’s webmaster at age 21, where he worked until the time he began his master’s degree. We sat across from each other and soon became friends. John’s level of intellectual functioning was planes above most of the people he met, but he never had any airs about him. He was a know-it-all who never acted like one. Physically, John was a big man, taller than most. He was polite and well mannered. He was kind. He worked the long and unusual hours the job required without complaint. I never knew until his passing that John suffered from unexplainable and debilitating migraine headaches. Amid the chaos that sometimes happens in a newsroom, seated amidst reporters, sportswriters and editors, John was a calming influence. He was easy to trust and therefore, easy to confide in. He was never judgmental and I never heard him say anything mean or negative about anyone.

Outside of this job, John had close friendships with his elementary school pals who eventually became his college roommates. He was very gracious when presented with a birthday present last year — a camp chair to furnish that meager dwelling. John also enjoyed good relationships with his supportive, close-knit family members. There was never doubt about his religious convictions.

This young man didn’t have to die for those who knew him to recognize his greatness. The more we knew of him, the more we knew he was exceptional. I always thought he would make a great husband and father and regret he won’t have the chance to experience these wonders of life. Although it is human nature to immortalize our loved ones after death, the good qualities attributed to John Nolan this week have not been exaggerated. One can only imagine the contributions John might’ve made had he lived longer. He did contribute much while he was here, though, and his passing is the world’s loss. Those fortunate enough to have known him were better for it and we will miss him.

About three months before John died, all us kids gave our dad an heirloom Book of Mormon with our testimonies written in the back. This is John's:

A statement of belief is more powerful than one of knowledge because it cannot be contradicted and it demands no proof. Therefore, I make here a statement of what I have willfully chosen to believe, often in spite of its popularity among men. I offer no evidence of my belief, only the example of my own life and how I have affected the lives of others.

I believe in the sanctity of life and in its value as a learning experience. I have no less literally spiritual parents than physical ones; I am the offspring of God, and as such I have a limitless potential of my own. I believe my performance in this life will not be judged against some cosmic rubric, but rather how I reacted to what I was given. I also believe the very act of choosing to believe that which I know not of a surety but is true makes those beliefs a reality to me.

I believe my interaction with other people defines who I am. I believe every individual has his or her own unique theology, and that I can learn something from each of these perspectives and incorporate it into my own. Who I have become internally may be in part a product of my external environment, but it also shapes the way I perceive the world around me.

Finally, I believe I have the authority to act in the name of God and that this authority was restored to the Earth in modern times through Joseph Smith. Jesus is the Christ. This book contains a true account, and was translated under divine inspiration. Let it be known to all the world that I believe these things are true.

-John Patrick Nolan

There are moments I miss my brother so much, the pain in my heart feels like it will never go away. But I don't want it to go away. I feel like if it does I will lose him all over again. I look at my sweet Tessa, so fresh from heaven and know she was just with him. I wonder at what she remembers and he taught her. I love you so much, John. I miss you.


Six years later, the tears still fall. But peace still prevails.