My name is Rachel Murphy, and I’m Jennifer’s best friend. I have known John for longer than I haven’t, and every day for the next five years that will become less and less true until one day it isn’t anymore. Jennifer and I have been best friends since the first day of seventh grade, and it wasn’t long after we met that I met John. We were at someone’s party, I can’t remember who’s, and Jennifer arrived wearing glittery blue eyeshadow. I remarked to her that it was really cool that her parents let her wear makeup (we were 12), and she told me her dad didn’t usually let her wear glitter around her eyes, since he was anxious about a piece falling into her eye and cutting her cornea. I probably laughed, but in my head I thought “immediately filing that in my folder of things to be afraid of!” The first time I met him was when he came to pick her up from that party, and he was so eager to talk to me, wanting to be a part of Jennifer’s world.

John and Joanne always welcomed me, always included... Read more me, and I very quickly felt like a part of the family, from dinners and chats at home to adventurous trips like riding along to pick up that red Ferrari from a mechanic down in San Diego. I imagine John was probably like a dad to many people, and he was certainly the walking embodiment of a “dad on vacation” with his Hawaiian shirt, khakis, knee-high socks, and camera always at the ready. In many ways he was like a dad to me, but he was THE dad to Jennifer and Julia. John oozed pride for his daughters and took every opportunity to connect with them, brag about them, and support them. I see so much of him in them. Jennifer’s fiery streak, Julia’s humor.

John was an incredibly bright man, and one of the biggest pieces of that was his earnest desire to learn from everyone, including his children. I think his love of learning was my favorite thing about him. John’s curiosity was the lens through which he interacted with the world, whether that was tinkering to find out what made something tick or printing out an inch thick stack of research to master a new interest (like he did when they got their first rabbit Molly. He’d energetically tell me something like, “Did you know rabbits can’t see directly in front of them!?” and I would file that into my folder of things that I, too, now get to know). John’s essence was enthusiasm. He approached all things with excitement and found such joy in everything he did. He was the embodiment of having a zest for life. John wanted to share the things he loved with the people he loved and wanted us to share our interests with him, too. He wanted to make us feel safe, to make us laugh, to connect. We are all here today because he succeeded unendingly in that endeavor. I love you and I miss you, John. I promise to never let glitter get into my eyes. Read less

My name is Rachel Murphy, and I’m Jennifer’s best friend. I have known John for longer than I haven’t, and every day for the next five years that will become less and less true until one day it isn’t anymore. Jennifer and I have been best friends since the first day of seventh grade, and it wasn’t long after we met that I met John. We were at someone’s party, I can’t remember who’s, and Jennifer arrived wearing glittery blue eyeshadow. I remarked to her that it was really cool that her parents let... Read more her wear makeup (we were 12), and she told me her dad didn’t usually let her wear glitter around her eyes, since he was anxious about a piece falling into her eye and cutting her cornea. I probably laughed, but in my head I thought “immediately filing that in my folder of things to be afraid of!” The first time I met him was when he came to pick her up from that party, and he was so eager to talk to me, wanting to be a part of Jennifer’s world.

John and Joanne always welcomed me, always included me, and I very quickly felt like a part of the family, from dinners and chats at home to adventurous trips like riding along to pick up that red Ferrari from a mechanic down in San Diego. I imagine John was probably like a dad to many people, and he was certainly the walking embodiment of a “dad on vacation” with his Hawaiian shirt, khakis, knee-high socks, and camera always at the ready. In many ways he was like a dad to me, but he was THE dad to Jennifer and Julia. John oozed pride for his daughters and took every opportunity to connect with them, brag about them, and support them. I see so much of him in them. Jennifer’s fiery streak, Julia’s humor.

John was an incredibly bright man, and one of the biggest pieces of that was his earnest desire to learn from everyone, including his children. I think his love of learning was my favorite thing about him. John’s curiosity was the lens through which he interacted with the world, whether that was tinkering to find out what made something tick or printing out an inch thick stack of research to master a new interest (like he did when they got their first rabbit Molly. He’d energetically tell me something like, “Did you know rabbits can’t see directly in front of them!?” and I would file that into my folder of things that I, too, now get to know). John’s essence was enthusiasm. He approached all things with excitement and found such joy in everything he did. He was the embodiment of having a zest for life. John wanted to share the things he loved with the people he loved and wanted us to share our interests with him, too. He wanted to make us feel safe, to make us laugh, to connect. We are all here today because he succeeded unendingly in that endeavor. I love you and I miss you, John. I promise to never let glitter get into my eyes. Read less

As a kid, when I asked my dad what he did for his job as a Quality Assurance Rep at JPL, he would simply tell me, “I check people’s math and do my best to make sure things don’t go wrong.” But taking the many work stories he told around the dinner table with beaming enthusiasm and his unwavering selflessness into account, I think his job was actually about something bigger. He was tasked with assuring and championing other people’s success.

Outside of work, he lived his life with the same thorough, considerate thoughtfulness and curiosity. My dad was intrinsically ethical and kind - rigid about doing the right thing in the right way with utmost care and attention. He treated each and every person, animal, and object like an irreplaceable work of art. That was my dad’s default setting, and there was not an off switch. He never gave it a second thought; acting with protective compassion (and keeping high spirits while doing so) was the only fathomable option.

The most perfect example... Read more of this was when he found a fallen Monarch cocoon, which he carefully threaded, then hung from the branch of a tree. He carefully photo documented the butterfly’s progress until it emerged, captioned with commentary on this rescue mission peppered with facts about Monarchs and the milkweed he and my mom had planted in the garden for them. Most people wouldn’t even consider going to these lengths to ensure another creature’s safety and well-being, let alone check in for days after the good deed was done. Only a truly phenomenal person does that.

As we all know, he was passionate and excited about a lot of things, including but not limited to ocean life, the latest and greatest electronics, bugs, sound systems, music, video games, funny animal videos, politics, Disney, Dancing with the Stars, food, cars…But far and above all else, he was consumed with love for his family.


He was a brother who brought enthusiasm and know-how to every bonding experience whether my Uncle Don was ready for it or not. My dad greeted my uncle on his frequent weekend trips to Montrose like a best friend he hadn’t seen in decades. With excitement and eagerness to share all the latest happenings and latest gadgets.

They shared a love of cars and would wake up with the sun to drive the windy roads of Angeles Crest or gawk at expensive specimens at the local car club gathering. As the rest of the house was just waking up, my dad would share photos of that morning’s outing, exclaiming, “you’ll love this one!” followed by the rare, special features of each model.

As the car hobby faded, my dad and uncle shared a love of animals, current events, technology, and love of sweets. They both read a lot, which kept them bantering back and forth for hours - uncle Don in the rocking chair and dad on the couch - until one or both of them drifted into an afternoon nap.

When my uncle adopted his rescue greyhound, Myko, a few months ago, my dad threw all the advice he ever gave me and my sister about being cautious with dogs straight out the nearest window. He LOVED that dog, especially because he knew how much Myko means to his brother. Bandwagoning on Uncle Don’s joy, he catapulted happy moments with Myko to the next dimension with trademark sound effects and emphatic storytelling.

He was a father who loved his daughters loudly and unapologetically every moment of every day. He was supportive of our dreams and right there with us for the bigness of every milestone and all the moments in-between.

With my sister, Julia, he shared a love for video games, an enthusiasm for movies, his humor, his middle initial, and love of animals. They would often play Animal Crossing online together, visiting each other’s islands, laughing as they explored the latest features of the game. When Julia started to get tattoos, my dad turned on a dime to share in her fascination with the art form. He would tell her about tattoos he had seen, knowing she would appreciate them. In typical John fashion, if Julia loved something, he was next in line. My dad was immensely proud of my little sister. He attended choir concerts, graduations, award ceremonies, and parent days at her university gushing with love for her and soaking up every second he could spend with her.

My dad has always been a constant, vocal presence in my life. He used to join my Monday-night phone calls with my mom, interjecting from the other room with his insights on any and every topic of conversation. My mom would have to translate until he got up to fully join the discussion, which happened without fail. When I came home to visit, he would hug me and joke that he was stuck, that he would never let go. He would talk my ear off until 1:30, 2, even 3 in the morning chatting about things from music history to the latest bunny video trends.Those moments of quirky connection and quality alone time with my dad are among my fondest, most treasured memories of him. I encouraged him to pick up the guitar again, and he taught me how to do electrical wiring, check my car’s oil, fix my tv, and a million other things that were too complex for me to follow or retain. He also modeled strong values, how to know what’s really important, how to be a loyal friend, and how to be a loving partner/parent. I have a new love for all the parts of myself that come from him.

He was a husband, head over heels for my mom, his wife of almost 43 years. It’s clear from every photo of my parents that they are incredibly lucky to have found each other - born five days apart, married at 21, first child 14 years into their marriage because they enjoyed each other so much they lost track of time, and they are just as in love over four decades later. In their life together, they traversed impossible difficulties with multiple cancer diagnoses, loss, and the regular grind of life, but they also relished raising me and my sister and the completeness they found in each other. Julia and I are so lucky to have grown up with parents who respected, uplifted, and cherished each other every day without fail. Words could never do justice to their relationship. All I can say is, I feel blessed to have witnessed and participated in it.

It’s obvious that he’s gone far, far too soon. It doesn’t seem real, and sometimes I feel completely overcome with anger at the universe, feeling robbed of my time, all of our time, with him. But in brighter moments, I’m profoundly thankful that I am John Allen Kennedy’s eldest daughter. His memory will fuel my courage to carry on and inspire me to live my life as overflowing with joy as he was.

I carry him with me in every good deed, on every adventure, and in the making of new memories. I hope he knows how proud we are and how lucky we feel to have known and loved him. Read less

As a kid, when I asked my dad what he did for his job as a Quality Assurance Rep at JPL, he would simply tell me, “I check people’s math and do my best to make sure things don’t go wrong.” But taking the many work stories he told around the dinner table with beaming enthusiasm and his unwavering selflessness into account, I think his job was actually about something bigger. He was tasked with assuring and championing other people’s success.

Outside of work, he lived his life with the same thorough,... Read more considerate thoughtfulness and curiosity. My dad was intrinsically ethical and kind - rigid about doing the right thing in the right way with utmost care and attention. He treated each and every person, animal, and object like an irreplaceable work of art. That was my dad’s default setting, and there was not an off switch. He never gave it a second thought; acting with protective compassion (and keeping high spirits while doing so) was the only fathomable option.

The most perfect example of this was when he found a fallen Monarch cocoon, which he carefully threaded, then hung from the branch of a tree. He carefully photo documented the butterfly’s progress until it emerged, captioned with commentary on this rescue mission peppered with facts about Monarchs and the milkweed he and my mom had planted in the garden for them. Most people wouldn’t even consider going to these lengths to ensure another creature’s safety and well-being, let alone check in for days after the good deed was done. Only a truly phenomenal person does that.

As we all know, he was passionate and excited about a lot of things, including but not limited to ocean life, the latest and greatest electronics, bugs, sound systems, music, video games, funny animal videos, politics, Disney, Dancing with the Stars, food, cars…But far and above all else, he was consumed with love for his family.


He was a brother who brought enthusiasm and know-how to every bonding experience whether my Uncle Don was ready for it or not. My dad greeted my uncle on his frequent weekend trips to Montrose like a best friend he hadn’t seen in decades. With excitement and eagerness to share all the latest happenings and latest gadgets.

They shared a love of cars and would wake up with the sun to drive the windy roads of Angeles Crest or gawk at expensive specimens at the local car club gathering. As the rest of the house was just waking up, my dad would share photos of that morning’s outing, exclaiming, “you’ll love this one!” followed by the rare, special features of each model.

As the car hobby faded, my dad and uncle shared a love of animals, current events, technology, and love of sweets. They both read a lot, which kept them bantering back and forth for hours - uncle Don in the rocking chair and dad on the couch - until one or both of them drifted into an afternoon nap.

When my uncle adopted his rescue greyhound, Myko, a few months ago, my dad threw all the advice he ever gave me and my sister about being cautious with dogs straight out the nearest window. He LOVED that dog, especially because he knew how much Myko means to his brother. Bandwagoning on Uncle Don’s joy, he catapulted happy moments with Myko to the next dimension with trademark sound effects and emphatic storytelling.

He was a father who loved his daughters loudly and unapologetically every moment of every day. He was supportive of our dreams and right there with us for the bigness of every milestone and all the moments in-between.

With my sister, Julia, he shared a love for video games, an enthusiasm for movies, his humor, his middle initial, and love of animals. They would often play Animal Crossing online together, visiting each other’s islands, laughing as they explored the latest features of the game. When Julia started to get tattoos, my dad turned on a dime to share in her fascination with the art form. He would tell her about tattoos he had seen, knowing she would appreciate them. In typical John fashion, if Julia loved something, he was next in line. My dad was immensely proud of my little sister. He attended choir concerts, graduations, award ceremonies, and parent days at her university gushing with love for her and soaking up every second he could spend with her.

My dad has always been a constant, vocal presence in my life. He used to join my Monday-night phone calls with my mom, interjecting from the other room with his insights on any and every topic of conversation. My mom would have to translate until he got up to fully join the discussion, which happened without fail. When I came home to visit, he would hug me and joke that he was stuck, that he would never let go. He would talk my ear off until 1:30, 2, even 3 in the morning chatting about things from music history to the latest bunny video trends.Those moments of quirky connection and quality alone time with my dad are among my fondest, most treasured memories of him. I encouraged him to pick up the guitar again, and he taught me how to do electrical wiring, check my car’s oil, fix my tv, and a million other things that were too complex for me to follow or retain. He also modeled strong values, how to know what’s really important, how to be a loyal friend, and how to be a loving partner/parent. I have a new love for all the parts of myself that come from him.

He was a husband, head over heels for my mom, his wife of almost 43 years. It’s clear from every photo of my parents that they are incredibly lucky to have found each other - born five days apart, married at 21, first child 14 years into their marriage because they enjoyed each other so much they lost track of time, and they are just as in love over four decades later. In their life together, they traversed impossible difficulties with multiple cancer diagnoses, loss, and the regular grind of life, but they also relished raising me and my sister and the completeness they found in each other. Julia and I are so lucky to have grown up with parents who respected, uplifted, and cherished each other every day without fail. Words could never do justice to their relationship. All I can say is, I feel blessed to have witnessed and participated in it.

It’s obvious that he’s gone far, far too soon. It doesn’t seem real, and sometimes I feel completely overcome with anger at the universe, feeling robbed of my time, all of our time, with him. But in brighter moments, I’m profoundly thankful that I am John Allen Kennedy’s eldest daughter. His memory will fuel my courage to carry on and inspire me to live my life as overflowing with joy as he was.

I carry him with me in every good deed, on every adventure, and in the making of new memories. I hope he knows how proud we are and how lucky we feel to have known and loved him. Read less