Uncle Jack

The Rock of Ravenna Street

“Faith asks us to jump, to surrender and believe that somewhere, somehow, someone will catch us and bring us home.”

-Henri Nouwen from Turn My Mourning Into Dancing.

This past Sunday, our family lost my mom’s older brother, John, or as everyone in our family knew him, Uncle Jack. My mother’s beloved big brother was the last of the wonderful uncles and aunts my siblings and I were blessed to have in our lives, and while his death brings sadness, there is also a sense of joy knowing that he is now reunited with all those he loved and lost.

My Uncle Jack was always a bigger-than-life personality to me as a kid. His beautiful, seven-acre property in Hudson, Ohio, was like Disneyland to us Fox kids, with horses, games, and plenty of other things we city folks didn’t normally get to enjoy. We loved making that 45 minute trip to 310 Ravenna Street, where our older cousins always made time for their younger cousins, playing with us each and every time. Kathleen, Kris, and Kim would show my sisters the horses, while Mark and Matt were always up for playing any sport imaginable with me and my brothers.

Whether it was Derby Day, Easter, or just a random Sunday, Uncle Jack was always happy to have us. Like his father before him, he would roll out the red carpet, making each of us feel special. His deep, booming voice accompanied by that welcoming smile was ever present. Holding out his hand he’d always greet me with, “Hello, Thomas! Give me some skin! We had a cool handshake before they became popular!

The proud Cathedral Latin and Ohio University alum served his country in the United States Air Force before a successful career in business. His love of horses was also something he got honestly from his father, but Uncle Jack did much more than just bet on them, spending years as director of the regional pony club, helping promote and foster a love for horses in many local riders and enthusiasts. How appropriate that he died in 2026, the year of the horse.

My Uncle Jack was no stranger to loss or grief throughout his life. Forty years ago, he lost his first wife, and mother of his five children, Elaine, to a sudden heart attack. Thirty years ago two of his grandsons, Christopher and Nicholas, ages 4 and 2, were tragically killed, along with their father, by a drunk driver. Fifteen years ago, his second wife, Anita, passed away after battling health issues. I’ve often marveled at the strength he showed during those extremely tough times.

In his book Turn My Mourning Into Dancing, the Dutch priest and author, Henri Nouwen, writes: “Our glory is hidden in our pain, if we allow God to bring the gift of himself in our experience of it. If we turn to God, not rebelling against our hurt, we let God transform it into greater good. We let others join us and discover it with us.” I have to believe that is how my uncle got through those brutal losses. He didn’t shut God out. His faith remained solid as a rock.

Always the life of the party with a cold beer in his hand, in 2001, at age 71, my Uncle Jack embraced sobriety. His example has helped me over these past six years proving that you don’t need a drink in your hand in order to have a good time. I was always appreciative of him checking in on me during the early days of my sobriety. He was a true role model.

In his final days, my uncle yearned to go home. Not to his house at good old 310, but to Heaven, where so many undoubtedly awaited his arrival. His death leaves a hole in our hearts, but his life will always serve as an example of how to find hope in hard times. Just as the title of Nouwen’s book, he was able to “Turn Mourning Into Dancing.”

One quote from that compilation of Nouwen’s writings will always remind me of my kind-hearted uncle. In the fifth and final chapter titled, “From A Fearful Death To A Joyous Life” the priest and renowned author states, “Faith asks us to jump, to surrender and believe that somewhere, somehow, someone will catch us and bring us home.” No doubt among those who helped bring John Carl Tillman home on January 4th were two of his grandsons, Christopher and Nicholas. What a reunion that must have been!

Farewell Uncle Jack, we will miss you. Thank you for being the Rock of Ravenna Street and showing us how to lean on our faith during tough times. Those are now a thing of the past for you! Enjoy your homecoming. I hope one day to hear that booming voice again as you assuredly hold out your hand and offer some skin.

-Tommy O’Sionnach