I was a patient of Dr Kelleher's for three and a half years and our therapy was cut short by his illness. I found him when I told the psychiatrist I was seeing that I wanted to feel more empathy from her. She said "You want empathy?" and wrote Dr Kelleher's phone number down and handed it to me.

I'm here now because last night I dreamed I tried to find his grave and could not. I wanted to leave a paperback psychoanalysis book on it, in which I had written "Dr Kelleher, I am still OK."  My mental health was in a desperate state when we worked together and Dr Kelleher's incredible empathy combined with his deep intelligence and skill healed important parts of my life and set me on a more stable path. 

I know he'll never get my message, but I leave here  my thanks to his family and friends for sharing this very special man with us, his patients. 

John and I once did a play together in New York, "The Country Girl" by Clifford Odets in 1996 and we performed it at a theatre on the grounds of the 1964 World's Fair in Queens.  The memory of that experience has come to me when thinking back, and John in particular. We got along well and after sharing our likes and so forth, he kindly made a "cassette" tape of Marlene Dietrich songs. As we all do from time to time is wonder where are this one or that one, especially in the acting world where we all become so closely connected for a brief time and often depart and never meet again. I recently was going through some stored boxes and came across the program for the play and looked up his name online (something not even available back then), only to discover his passing. I see the impression he left on others in his practice; I can tell you I've thought of him kindly as well as fellow actors. My condolences to his family, including of course his husband and daughter. A life well lived but far too short. I will still think of him.

I stumbled across another obituary and wonder if this is the same Dr. John Kelleher that worked at 9171 Wilshire in 2012. If not, I humbly apologize.

If so, this man saved my life. I was in the deepest and darkest place in my life, and somehow I found my way into his offices by sheer luck. He was the first and only psychiatrist that I felt a sense of genuine empathy from. I could not afford to continue seeing him after a certain point, even with the very generous sliding scale that he offered to me, but the 10 sessions that I had with him, coupled with the right rx treatment plan that he put me on, halted my path towards definite suicide.

I have thought of him often since then, and hold him in my memory as the man that saved my life.

I am so deeply saddened to learn of his passing and hope that this message reaches his loved ones. Please know he is very special to yet another stranger they may never meet.

John! We all miss you dearly. I still can recall your silly antics and our ridiculous banters. You were always making us laugh during study sessions in med school. I miss our dinner get togethers. They were a nice reprieve to the relentless studying during med school. Would not have gotten through med school without your encouragement and support. Your humor and your kindness will not be forgotten. Miss you. 

My medical school years at Brown were some of my most formative ones and I cannot think of that time  without thinking of John. Our friendship began when we were paired as anatomy lab partners in our first year. I fully credit him for creating a space where  passion for learning (PFL, as he referred to it) was cool, hard work was noble, humor flowed generously, and compassion was a standard. He showed genuine appreciation for people as they were. I thought he made excellence sound like a very reasonable and achievable goal for anyone because he appreciated others' strengths and potential. He admitted when things were difficult and he was understated about his brilliance. I remember how he would bring levity with his  quirky,  nerdy sense of humor and how he would giggle and snort at his own jokes. There are small memories - like having orcchiete ("it means 'little ear,,' Ivone") with broccoli rabbe in his kitchen, memorizing the clotting cascade together in the basement of the biomed building, listening to him talk about this antique lampshades, watching him untangle lengths and lengths of xmas lights for a party set up - that made that made those med school years good ones. The world is better for having had John in it and I miss him.

Th

Kristin & Joe’s wedding — with John Kelleher and Greg Okin

Condolences to my aunt & uncle and all my cousins and their families, as well as to Greg & Phoebe and everyone who knew and loved John. I wish I could be there to celebrate John's memory with you. It's been great to read everyone's comments and remembrances. He was a special kid who I wish I had seen more. I have fond memories of our ski trips and family weddings. 

I didn't take this photo obviously so someone else is welcome to take credit. I nicked it from Facebook a while back and added it to my digital frame at home. I smile every day it goes by.

My condolences to John's family and extensive community.  

John and I were freshman hall-mates at Brown and friends from then on. I adored him for all the reasons others have described. He was his own glorious blend of silly and earnest, self-possessed and searching, cute and cool. 

Early memories are all about the shared experience of being far from home and entering a new phase of our lives.  John made me feel fully accepted and accompanied during the ups and downs of that time.  Also I remember the dancing.    

John had a strong compass for his interests and explored them with gusto.  Due to his wide-ranging talents and wonderful spirit, he forged connections across campus.  I respected him so much for this.   

I recently found long letters (emails! new to us in 1992) that we sent each other when he studied abroad in Japan junior year.  He took on the adventure of that language and place in his typical immersive fashion.

We shared an off-campus house together senior year along with two other friends. I remember him sweating over the stove while cooking something incredibly elaborate (to my 20-year-old eyes) from a Madhur Jaffrey cookbook.

He wore wonderful clothes that were uniquely him but I don't recall seeing him shopping. How did he do it? 

He had the best fingertips which he would press into you with a sense of tenderness and play.

After graduation I saw him regularly in New York City and he would let me stay over in his tiny place in the West Village. One time he had bought a guitar for an audition and I mentioned that I was learning to play; he sent me home with it. I still have that guitar, and that’s how John was always.

Also, he would always, always take time to weigh our many food options and come up with a great idea for what to eat. It touched me immeasurably that when I visited shortly before he died, he did exactly the same thing.

After he and Greg moved to L.A. I visited at one point and took a charming photo of him holding an avocado from their tree, loving to see his happiness.

I’ll be sad not to be there tomorrow.  

John and I were residents at UCLA around the same time. I remember so fondly that John exuded warmth and kindness, always. He had a soft, unhurried tone that managed to convey genuine interest and concern in how you were doing, even if really he was just being polite. It felt like he was inviting me to share a part of my real, inner self. I looked forward to seeing him sort of like the way you look forward to a cozy fire in a fireplace. He was a year ahead of me in training, so he was responsible for supervising and teaching me at times. His approach to that task was a simple extension of how he was as a person - patient, giving, showing his own skill as an example, without a hint of ego. It was just so obvious what a wonderful, good, bright soul he had. When he spoke about his life, it was always about family. You could tell he loved Greg, admired him, enjoyed his company. Once Phoebe came into their lives, he was over the moon for her in a way that only a parent can be - giddy about showing pictures of her and delighting in everything about her. Reading this, it seems too perfect. But outwardly at least, John only showed the best of himself. I do remember him feeling nervous or indecisive about things, but only because he wanted the best for everyone involved.

I got to visit John once in rehab before he passed. Though he had more difficulty with speech, his warmth was exactly the same. I feel lucky that my last memory of him is just like all the others, comforting and genuinely connected. 

Camping President's Day Weekend, 2019

In the rain on the ranch with golem, alpacas, newts and a treasure hunt