John Edward Butwell's Funeral Details

In memory of

John Edward Butwell

Naugatuck, CT

November 29, 1939 - December 15, 2023

Nov 29, 1939 - Dec 15, 2023

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Celebration of life

Started on Sunday, May 19, 2024 at 2 p.m. EDT
Event Program

Celebration of life will be held in the serenity garden behind The St. Thomas Church in Oxford on Sunday, May 19th at 2PM followed by Ice Cream at Rich’s Farms.
St Thomas the Apostle Parish 733 Oxford Road, Oxford, CT 06478

Alicia Butwell

Anonymous friend wrote this most beautiful piece:
My Friend John

Where do I start?

A Gentle Giant

Gentleness of Spirit

One of the most loving, non-judgmental people I have ever met. A friend who redefined the definition of friendship… A very special friend, but I’m sure anyone who knew John felt that way…

It seemed as though he stood 8 feet tall …yet never wanted to stand out.  An Ocean of Wisdom and Experience… and only wanted to be one of - a part of - to just be there, to participate.
I announced his anniversary this past summer at a little midday meeting he hadn’t been to before… “Why did you do that,
I just wanted to go to the meeting” he said to me afterwards. 
They remember him - I ordered his coins through a member there

I sat in many meetings with John, and now it seems far too few. He was a balm on a sunburn, soft-spoken serene. People would lean in trying to hear, to not miss what he was saying - like the old E.F. Hutton commercial. Afterwards, they would ask me to bring him back.  
That was John.
He would have a conversation with someone once and years later they would remember what he had said to them.
He was fully present

Lenox. He loved the Berkshires. The towns, rivers, lakes, communities.
“What did you do this afternoon?” I asked.  
“I watched the sunset.”  he replied.  I had expected him to say something about fishing…”All afternoon?” I asked. He went over to the window, 
“If you lay on the bed, this window is perfect for watching the sunset. It goes down down down across the pond and sets behind those trees over there”.
Pointing, practically glowing as he relived  it, doing his best to describe it to me as if he had discovered some undiscovered fishing spot.  “Just…amazing “  he concluded with an awe-filled smile and a swoop of his head.
All afternoon he had watched the sun set.
That was John. Incredible solitude. 
At home in a sunset, a forest, a quiet bend in a river, a book.

“Give him my number, I’d like to talk to him” he said to me when I mentioned a friend of mine who was recovering after prostate cancer surgery. He didn’t even know the man; lived eleven hundred miles away. 
And that was John. Always visiting people in hospitals and nursing homes. “I just can’t walk away from that -  could you?”  He asked, stated, exclaimed.

Such a great loss to so many people, so many communities.

And me! How lucky I was to have traveled this Path with him and for so long!   “Lucky me, lucky mud” to quote Vonnegut. How I will miss those eight mile an hour tours of swimming holes and every mud puddle that might be big enough to hide a fish! He loved fishing…Seldom was it about the fish… it was his 11th step. John Lived and Loved the 11th step.

What a blessing to so many people - so many communities! And for so long, decades, 54 years even, a lifetime…and the ripples travel on…words, deeds, stories.
Speaking with a friend recently I said “Love doesn’t want “. John said that to me.

After one of my ramblings he would simply say “Go sit near a stream” and another time,  “Learn all you can about love.”  He wouldn’t tell me specifically what to do or how to live, just kinda point a direction…. and maybe that should be capitalized.

A diner, 20 years ago, gossip started.  John leaned in from the end of the bench opposite me…”alright “ quietly, patiently annoyed, as if asking a group of third graders to settle down and take their seats. It stopped.  He sat back up, scanning the restaurant, looked at me and with a shake of his head gave that boyish chuckle.  And that was John. The man, his values, one of my heroes.

Where do you go to find a friend like that?

So much more to say. Authors, books, songs, music and musicians, poems and poets, philosophers. I would share a quote and usually John had read something if not everything from that author.  Sometimes he would surprise me…”I knew him, he was from New Haven” or “I was in a bereavement group she used to lead years ago”…another community

Whether delivering meals, raking leaves, lighting a candle for a friend, John was about Love and Service. Lived it.
Fully alive, fully evolved, fully human.
Wholly, Holy participating in his relationships, communities

Where do I go?

In difficult times we look to those who who have been dealt some tough cards, been through some rough times,  and didn’t allow those experiences to make them small or bitter,  but instead transformed them into Beacons of Light to guide others…
That was John. He became the message, the gift.

Many tears were shed writing this - such a painful Glorious place - reliving the memories and conversations, trying to whittle down decades to too few stories to share with others who may have not been so privileged to know the John that I knew…

One last story for now…
Riding back from Massachusetts , out of the blue John said “You’ve changed “.  We rode in silence for a few minutes as I pondered that statement, then he added, “And it’s permanent.”

He’s right. I have changed , and in no small part as a result of the time I spent with John.  Our conversations, his patience, his understanding.  He’d seen a lot, lived a lot. Understood.  My Journeys with John have reset my compass, he’s a major contributor to my recovery DNA , and yet again led me to consciously, consciously reaffirm my Direction to Travel.

I did my best to share the John that I knew Love and Miss…

He truly was a “Unique and Precious Creation “

He never would have wanted me to say any of this, in fact would have been quite upset as anyone who knew John would know…

But I needed to - wanted to - to honor him - to say thank you,
He knows that

A friend of Mr. John Edward Butwell

Anonymous friend wrote this most beautiful piece:
My Friend John

Where do I start?

A Gentle Giant

... Read moreGentleness of Spirit

One of the most loving, non-judgmental people I have ever met. A friend who redefined the definition of friendship… A very special friend, but I’m sure anyone who knew John felt that way…

It seemed as though he stood 8 feet tall …yet never wanted to stand out. An Ocean of Wisdom and Experience… and only wanted to be one of - a part of - to just be there, to participate.
I announced his anniversary this past summer at a little midday meeting he hadn’t been to before… “Why did you do that,
I just wanted to go to the meeting” he said to me afterwards.
They remember him - I ordered his coins through a member there

I sat in many meetings with John, and now it seems far too few. He was a balm on a sunburn, soft-spoken serene. People would lean in trying to hear, to not miss what he was saying - like the old E.F. Hutton commercial. Afterwards, they would ask me to bring him back.
That was John.
He would have a conversation with someone once and years later they would remember what he had said to them.
He was fully present

Lenox. He loved the Berkshires. The towns, rivers, lakes, communities.
“What did you do this afternoon?” I asked.
“I watched the sunset.” he replied. I had expected him to say something about fishing…”All afternoon?” I asked. He went over to the window,
“If you lay on the bed, this window is perfect for watching the sunset. It goes down down down across the pond and sets behind those trees over there”.
Pointing, practically glowing as he relived it, doing his best to describe it to me as if he had discovered some undiscovered fishing spot. “Just…amazing “ he concluded with an awe-filled smile and a swoop of his head.
All afternoon he had watched the sun set.
That was John. Incredible solitude.
At home in a sunset, a forest, a quiet bend in a river, a book.

“Give him my number, I’d like to talk to him” he said to me when I mentioned a friend of mine who was recovering after prostate cancer surgery. He didn’t even know the man; lived eleven hundred miles away.
And that was John. Always visiting people in hospitals and nursing homes. “I just can’t walk away from that - could you?” He asked, stated, exclaimed.

Such a great loss to so many people, so many communities.

And me! How lucky I was to have traveled this Path with him and for so long! “Lucky me, lucky mud” to quote Vonnegut. How I will miss those eight mile an hour tours of swimming holes and every mud puddle that might be big enough to hide a fish! He loved fishing…Seldom was it about the fish… it was his 11th step. John Lived and Loved the 11th step.

What a blessing to so many people - so many communities! And for so long, decades, 54 years even, a lifetime…and the ripples travel on…words, deeds, stories.
Speaking with a friend recently I said “Love doesn’t want “. John said that to me.

After one of my ramblings he would simply say “Go sit near a stream” and another time, “Learn all you can about love.” He wouldn’t tell me specifically what to do or how to live, just kinda point a direction…. and maybe that should be capitalized.

A diner, 20 years ago, gossip started. John leaned in from the end of the bench opposite me…”alright “ quietly, patiently annoyed, as if asking a group of third graders to settle down and take their seats. It stopped. He sat back up, scanning the restaurant, looked at me and with a shake of his head gave that boyish chuckle. And that was John. The man, his values, one of my heroes.

Where do you go to find a friend like that?

So much more to say. Authors, books, songs, music and musicians, poems and poets, philosophers. I would share a quote and usually John had read something if not everything from that author. Sometimes he would surprise me…”I knew him, he was from New Haven” or “I was in a bereavement group she used to lead years ago”…another community

Whether delivering meals, raking leaves, lighting a candle for a friend, John was about Love and Service. Lived it.
Fully alive, fully evolved, fully human.
Wholly, Holy participating in his relationships, communities

Where do I go?

In difficult times we look to those who who have been dealt some tough cards, been through some rough times, and didn’t allow those experiences to make them small or bitter, but instead transformed them into Beacons of Light to guide others…
That was John. He became the message, the gift.

Many tears were shed writing this - such a painful Glorious place - reliving the memories and conversations, trying to whittle down decades to too few stories to share with others who may have not been so privileged to know the John that I knew…

One last story for now…
Riding back from Massachusetts , out of the blue John said “You’ve changed “. We rode in silence for a few minutes as I pondered that statement, then he added, “And it’s permanent.”

He’s right. I have changed , and in no small part as a result of the time I spent with John. Our conversations, his patience, his understanding. He’d seen a lot, lived a lot. Understood. My Journeys with John have reset my compass, he’s a major contributor to my recovery DNA , and yet again led me to consciously, consciously reaffirm my Direction to Travel.

I did my best to share the John that I knew Love and Miss…

He truly was a “Unique and Precious Creation “

He never would have wanted me to say any of this, in fact would have been quite upset as anyone who knew John would know…

But I needed to - wanted to - to honor him - to say thank you,
He knows that

A friend of Mr. John Edward Butwell Read less Anonymous friend wrote this most beautiful piece:
My Friend John

Where do I start?

A Gentle Giant

Gentleness of Spirit... Read more

One of the most loving, non-judgmental people I have ever met. A friend who redefined the definition of friendship… A very special friend, but I’m sure anyone who knew John felt that way…

It seemed as though he stood 8 feet tall …yet never wanted to stand out. An Ocean of Wisdom and Experience… and only wanted to be one of - a part of - to just be there, to participate.
I announced his anniversary this past summer at a little midday meeting he hadn’t been to before… “Why did you do that,
I just wanted to go to the meeting” he said to me afterwards.
They remember him - I ordered his coins through a member there

I sat in many meetings with John, and now it seems far too few. He was a balm on a sunburn, soft-spoken serene. People would lean in trying to hear, to not miss what he was saying - like the old E.F. Hutton commercial. Afterwards, they would ask me to bring him back.
That was John.
He would have a conversation with someone once and years later they would remember what he had said to them.
He was fully present

Lenox. He loved the Berkshires. The towns, rivers, lakes, communities.
“What did you do this afternoon?” I asked.
“I watched the sunset.” he replied. I had expected him to say something about fishing…”All afternoon?” I asked. He went over to the window,
“If you lay on the bed, this window is perfect for watching the sunset. It goes down down down across the pond and sets behind those trees over there”.
Pointing, practically glowing as he relived it, doing his best to describe it to me as if he had discovered some undiscovered fishing spot. “Just…amazing “ he concluded with an awe-filled smile and a swoop of his head.
All afternoon he had watched the sun set.
That was John. Incredible solitude.
At home in a sunset, a forest, a quiet bend in a river, a book.

“Give him my number, I’d like to talk to him” he said to me when I mentioned a friend of mine who was recovering after prostate cancer surgery. He didn’t even know the man; lived eleven hundred miles away.
And that was John. Always visiting people in hospitals and nursing homes. “I just can’t walk away from that - could you?” He asked, stated, exclaimed.

Such a great loss to so many people, so many communities.

And me! How lucky I was to have traveled this Path with him and for so long! “Lucky me, lucky mud” to quote Vonnegut. How I will miss those eight mile an hour tours of swimming holes and every mud puddle that might be big enough to hide a fish! He loved fishing…Seldom was it about the fish… it was his 11th step. John Lived and Loved the 11th step.

What a blessing to so many people - so many communities! And for so long, decades, 54 years even, a lifetime…and the ripples travel on…words, deeds, stories.
Speaking with a friend recently I said “Love doesn’t want “. John said that to me.

After one of my ramblings he would simply say “Go sit near a stream” and another time, “Learn all you can about love.” He wouldn’t tell me specifically what to do or how to live, just kinda point a direction…. and maybe that should be capitalized.

A diner, 20 years ago, gossip started. John leaned in from the end of the bench opposite me…”alright “ quietly, patiently annoyed, as if asking a group of third graders to settle down and take their seats. It stopped. He sat back up, scanning the restaurant, looked at me and with a shake of his head gave that boyish chuckle. And that was John. The man, his values, one of my heroes.

Where do you go to find a friend like that?

So much more to say. Authors, books, songs, music and musicians, poems and poets, philosophers. I would share a quote and usually John had read something if not everything from that author. Sometimes he would surprise me…”I knew him, he was from New Haven” or “I was in a bereavement group she used to lead years ago”…another community

Whether delivering meals, raking leaves, lighting a candle for a friend, John was about Love and Service. Lived it.
Fully alive, fully evolved, fully human.
Wholly, Holy participating in his relationships, communities

Where do I go?

In difficult times we look to those who who have been dealt some tough cards, been through some rough times, and didn’t allow those experiences to make them small or bitter, but instead transformed them into Beacons of Light to guide others…
That was John. He became the message, the gift.

Many tears were shed writing this - such a painful Glorious place - reliving the memories and conversations, trying to whittle down decades to too few stories to share with others who may have not been so privileged to know the John that I knew…

One last story for now…
Riding back from Massachusetts , out of the blue John said “You’ve changed “. We rode in silence for a few minutes as I pondered that statement, then he added, “And it’s permanent.”

He’s right. I have changed , and in no small part as a result of the time I spent with John. Our conversations, his patience, his understanding. He’d seen a lot, lived a lot. Understood. My Journeys with John have reset my compass, he’s a major contributor to my recovery DNA , and yet again led me to consciously, consciously reaffirm my Direction to Travel.

I did my best to share the John that I knew Love and Miss…

He truly was a “Unique and Precious Creation “

He never would have wanted me to say any of this, in fact would have been quite upset as anyone who knew John would know…

But I needed to - wanted to - to honor him - to say thank you,
He knows that

A friend of Mr. John Edward Butwell Read less Anonymous friend wrote this most beautiful piece:
... Read moreMy Friend John

Where do I start?

A Gentle Giant

Gentleness of Spirit

One of the most loving, non-judgmental people I have ever met. A friend who redefined the definition of friendship… A very special friend, but I’m sure anyone who knew John felt that way…

It seemed as though he stood 8 feet tall …yet never wanted to stand out. An Ocean of Wisdom and Experience… and only wanted to be one of - a part of - to just be there, to participate.
I announced his anniversary this past summer at a little midday meeting he hadn’t been to before… “Why did you do that,
I just wanted to go to the meeting” he said to me afterwards.
They remember him - I ordered his coins through a member there

I sat in many meetings with John, and now it seems far too few. He was a balm on a sunburn, soft-spoken serene. People would lean in trying to hear, to not miss what he was saying - like the old E.F. Hutton commercial. Afterwards, they would ask me to bring him back.
That was John.
He would have a conversation with someone once and years later they would remember what he had said to them.
He was fully present

Lenox. He loved the Berkshires. The towns, rivers, lakes, communities.
“What did you do this afternoon?” I asked.
“I watched the sunset.” he replied. I had expected him to say something about fishing…”All afternoon?” I asked. He went over to the window,
“If you lay on the bed, this window is perfect for watching the sunset. It goes down down down across the pond and sets behind those trees over there”.
Pointing, practically glowing as he relived it, doing his best to describe it to me as if he had discovered some undiscovered fishing spot. “Just…amazing “ he concluded with an awe-filled smile and a swoop of his head.
All afternoon he had watched the sun set.
That was John. Incredible solitude.
At home in a sunset, a forest, a quiet bend in a river, a book.

“Give him my number, I’d like to talk to him” he said to me when I mentioned a friend of mine who was recovering after prostate cancer surgery. He didn’t even know the man; lived eleven hundred miles away.
And that was John. Always visiting people in hospitals and nursing homes. “I just can’t walk away from that - could you?” He asked, stated, exclaimed.

Such a great loss to so many people, so many communities.

And me! How lucky I was to have traveled this Path with him and for so long! “Lucky me, lucky mud” to quote Vonnegut. How I will miss those eight mile an hour tours of swimming holes and every mud puddle that might be big enough to hide a fish! He loved fishing…Seldom was it about the fish… it was his 11th step. John Lived and Loved the 11th step.

What a blessing to so many people - so many communities! And for so long, decades, 54 years even, a lifetime…and the ripples travel on…words, deeds, stories.
Speaking with a friend recently I said “Love doesn’t want “. John said that to me.

After one of my ramblings he would simply say “Go sit near a stream” and another time, “Learn all you can about love.” He wouldn’t tell me specifically what to do or how to live, just kinda point a direction…. and maybe that should be capitalized.

A diner, 20 years ago, gossip started. John leaned in from the end of the bench opposite me…”alright “ quietly, patiently annoyed, as if asking a group of third graders to settle down and take their seats. It stopped. He sat back up, scanning the restaurant, looked at me and with a shake of his head gave that boyish chuckle. And that was John. The man, his values, one of my heroes.

Where do you go to find a friend like that?

So much more to say. Authors, books, songs, music and musicians, poems and poets, philosophers. I would share a quote and usually John had read something if not everything from that author. Sometimes he would surprise me…”I knew him, he was from New Haven” or “I was in a bereavement group she used to lead years ago”…another community

Whether delivering meals, raking leaves, lighting a candle for a friend, John was about Love and Service. Lived it.
Fully alive, fully evolved, fully human.
Wholly, Holy participating in his relationships, communities

Where do I go?

In difficult times we look to those who who have been dealt some tough cards, been through some rough times, and didn’t allow those experiences to make them small or bitter, but instead transformed them into Beacons of Light to guide others…
That was John. He became the message, the gift.

Many tears were shed writing this - such a painful Glorious place - reliving the memories and conversations, trying to whittle down decades to too few stories to share with others who may have not been so privileged to know the John that I knew…

One last story for now…
Riding back from Massachusetts , out of the blue John said “You’ve changed “. We rode in silence for a few minutes as I pondered that statement, then he added, “And it’s permanent.”

He’s right. I have changed , and in no small part as a result of the time I spent with John. Our conversations, his patience, his understanding. He’d seen a lot, lived a lot. Understood. My Journeys with John have reset my compass, he’s a major contributor to my recovery DNA , and yet again led me to consciously, consciously reaffirm my Direction to Travel.

I did my best to share the John that I knew Love and Miss…

He truly was a “Unique and Precious Creation “

He never would have wanted me to say any of this, in fact would have been quite upset as anyone who knew John would know…

But I needed to - wanted to - to honor him - to say thank you,
He knows that

A friend of Mr. John Edward Butwell Read less