The little boy.... grew to be a man who had a passion for politics and service.

John Robert Luttjohann was born November 1, 1956. John completed suicide on January 16, 2003. John suffered from depression. He also had hypoglycemia. He was on prozac for the depression.

John left a wife and two sons, Jarrod, age 19, and Jordan, age 7. Also, his parents, three sisters, and a brother. Five nieces, two nephews. Three great nieces and two great nephews.


On John's grave marker it says "John Robert Luttjohann Born: November 1, 1956 - Died: January 16, 2003" Although it is small, something very important on his marker is "the dash". That line between John's date of birth and date of death represents all he did on this earth. Celebrate the Dash!


Following are the words that I wrote and read at John's Memorial Service on January 21, 2003.

John Boy

Carol Luttjohann

What brings us here today?

Are we here because John died?

Are we here for comfort?

Or are we here to find answers? That’s why I am here. To find answers, but before I can find the answer, I have to first know the question.

Is the question: What did I miss? What could I have done?

No, that is not it. I know that answer. I could not have done anything. Besides this is not about me. It’s not about finding someone to blame. John died, and to think I could have done something is giving myself a lot of power. It’s trying to take control of something I could never have controlled. No, the question is not about a what if.

Is the question: Why? Why did this happen?

No, that’s not it either. I know why John died. He felt so much pain. He had a disease that robbed him of being John. John got lost somewhere in all that was going on around him. I can imagine his heavenly homecoming. John is now with Grandpa Robert and Grandma Francie, sitting in a porch swing. Fudge, Bunne, Susie, Fred, Val, Rinnie, and all the other family dogs are at their feet. The cats, Shelly, Jupiter, Bolivar, and others watch from a safe distance as Leo the dog runs over and drops John's car keys in his lap. Grandma Francie puts her arm around her baby grandson and says, “It’s okay, Honey.” Then she begins to softly sing: Big Shoes. Little Shoes. All kinds of pretty shoes. Who’ll buy my shoes? Please buy my shoes. John is no longer in pain. Why is really a easy question to answer.

Is the question: What caused this disease?

No, that’s not it either. I know that one, too. The answer is there is no answer to why depression happens. I understand situational depression and chemical imbalance. I understand the textbook stuff. But there is no answer to why John was a victim of depression. There is no answer to why anyone is a victim of depression. We only know it exists.

Is the question: What happens now? What do we all do without John?

Yes, that’s it. The question is what do we do now? How do we go on without John?

My friend, Daniel Shaeffer, shared with me that events happen in his life, and his immediate reaction is to go to the telephone to call his dad and share with him. Then as he starts to pick up the telephone, Daniel remembers, his dad has been dead for over five years.

From this day forward there will always be times when each of us wants to pick up the phone and call John - tell him good news, tell him bad news, share a joke, ask a question. But that cannot happen. What will we do instead?

Instead we will lean on each other. Call another and share stories about John. Confess that we wish he were here so we could tell him what is going on. Admit nothing will fill the space that is left. Nothing will. No matter what anyone says or does it will never be enough to fill the void. There is no way that can happen. But we can still lean on each other. Maybe a little piece of John I have can help with your empty space and you can do the same for me.

We are participants in a scenario. We all must decide how to respond. We do not have a choice about if we will respond, only how. We must respond not just to John’s death, but also how we will choose to live. Not just live without John, but how to live in a way that shows we have learned from John’s life and even what we have learned about how to live from our experiencing John’s death.

What can we learn from John’s life? Think about your stories about John. I remember childhood stuff - like swinging on the tire swing in the backyard.

Then there was the dirt trail in the back yard. We had no grass. We set up some wood against the picnic table to build a ramp. We would ride bikes up the ramp and fly off the other side. We built treehouses.

John was my little brother. I have more stories, many more stories. I was there that night at the hospital. Karol had to have an emergency C-Section. John cried. But the tears turned to joy when Karol was okay and John’s oldest son, Jarrod, was born. They wheeled out the little cradle with that tiny baby boy in it. John just grinned.

I don’t know what each of you has learned from John’s life. I do not know all of your stories, but I know each of you have stories, or you would not be here. I would like to share some thoughts about some common things that we can all learn, what we can do to move on.

We can make the commitment to care for each other. We all have grief and pain. We will each go through our own process. We can all stop and think about not just those of us here today, but every person we know, every person we meet, every person we have contact with. We do not know each of their stories either. We can only write our own story.

How many times have we all left someone standing, hurting, isolated, left out? We choose to not care about another’s pain. We don’t care if our actions hurt others. There is no cost to inclusion, to caring, but there is a high price attached to pain.

Because we know that pain can become overwhelming enough to feel that death is the only way out, we can take that knowledge and pledge to learn from John’s death.

We can choose to act with compassion, care and inclusion or not. We can choose to embrace each other physically and emotionally or not. We can choose to listen to another’s hurts and pains or not. We can choose to speak kind words, to be inviting, to welcome everyone to be a part of our lives or not. We can leave a positive mark on the heart of every person we meet or not.

We can recognize that we cannot do anything about the disease depression. It exists and always will. But we can also recognize that there is pain, not just the deep pain of depression, but every day pain in people all around us and choose to be a catalyst for healing and caring.

John’s life left a mark on each of us. What kind of mark will each of us choose to leave on every person we see? There can be something positive from this experience. The choice is ours.

Diamond Rio recorded the song One More Day. It is about being given one wish. If you could wish for anything what would it be? The lyrics answer I’d simply wish for One More Day with you. One More Day. One more time. One more sunset. I’d be satisfied, but then again I know what it would do. It would leave me wishing still for One More Day with you.

While all of us would wish for One More Day with John, we know we have had all the days with him that we will ever have on this earth.

I am not happy about the loss of my brother, my friend, John, but I am very happy he was alive.

Good bye, John Boy.