Here's to John Liam Godfrey
by Ben Harris
Not 24 hours earlier, the University of Maryland, the Greek Life community, and my fellow Tau Kappa Epsilon brothers lost a dear friend. Like a fly ball in the sun, John Liam Godfrey vanished from our lives.
Jack, as we called him, lived for fraternity softball. With
intramural seasons in the fall and spring, Jack’s livelihood
spanned the entire year.
Since his freshman year he was our pitcher. Standing
on the mound puffing on his trademark Parliament
cigarette, Jack would lob smooth arcs toward the plate,
one after another, until the game was over.
Jack brought us to life. He was our team’s heartbeat.
He was our fraternity’s heartbeat. When his stopped
pounding, ours began to beat as one. We felt the
immediate outpouring of sympathy from the Greek
community, and from the entire campus in a matter
of seconds. The wounds were so fresh, so surreal, and
so unconscionable. The reaction from the entire
community was even swifter, more nurturing, and more
loving.
Scores of Georgetown Cupcakes, cookies, pizzas, and snacks were delivered to the chapter house from sororities and fraternities, who surrounded us with love, support, and care.
TKE's philanthropy event, the Red Carnation Ball, raised money for the Prince George’s County Hospital Trauma Ward that saved Jack’s life in March of 2013 after a traumatic brain injury. Last year, the event raised over $15,000.
Instead of celebrating Jack’s life on November 6 with the second annual Red Carnation ball, we traded in our suits and ties for candles. Nearly 200 people gathered outside of our chapter house for a candlelight vigil to mourn our loss, and to scribble their memories of Jack on a banner sprawled across two tables.
e took the softball field on that beautiful Friday afternoon with heavy hearts and streaming tears, as if the force of gravity had met the gravity of our situation and introduced itself over a cup of coffee.
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No gifts and no words resurrect the dead. This surprise reminder of our finite lives etched new scars into us all. In ways that my fraternity brothers nor I can truly express, we send back to the community a heartfelt thank you, with the same reverberating passion and respect with which you all sent your thoughts, your prayers, and your love to our entire family.
This is not the first time in recent memory that TKE lost a brother. In 2011, Dan Zolotorofe passed away of complications from Type I juvenile diabetes.
His favorite quote was from Friday Night Lights. “Clear eyes, full hearts, can’t lose.” The echoing message that propelled TKE through those dark days was one simple word. Zolostrong.
I was not yet a member of TKE when we lost Zolo in 2011. Neither was Jack. I had never been to a party with him, shared a meal, or spoken a word. Neither had Jack. I see that word emblazoned on a navy blue and teal wristband on my right hand, each and every day, just as Jack and many other TKEs do. Maybe more than anyone, Jack epitomized the idea of being Zolostrong.
That Friday, less than one day after Jack’s passing, we stepped onto the softball field with one less brother, but left the field with so much more. Our opponent, Alpha Epsilon Pi, graciously asked whether we wanted to cancel the game. Jack would’ve fought tooth and nail to be on that field. There was no option but to play. There was no option but to honor our fallen friend.
Before the game, Jack’s mom was presented with
her son’s signature TKE pinnie that he wore
religiously during games. Through her tears, she
relayed how much Jack loved softball, all of his
brothers, and the Maryland community that he
had impacted so greatly. The game was played
with heavy hearts all around, and a decisive
TKE victory capped our undefeated regular season.
Both teams, including every TKE brother in
attendance, walked out to Jack’s mound after the
game. Leaving room directly on top of the
pitcher’s rubber, we formed a tight huddle, leaving
enough space for Jack to stand right in between us
all. We shared words of wisdom, sorrow, and hope.
As we attempted to walk back to the bench, the
reality sunk in. For no less than an hour, we stayed
there crying, consoling, and comforting our friends, Jack’s family, and our brothers. On the other bench, the AEPi team remained, unwilling to leave until we left the field. The game was not yet over.
Max Kershner, a senior on the AEPi team and a close friend of Jack’s organized an event at local bar Terrapin’s Turf the following Tuesday, where every dollar spent on cover charge went directly to the trauma ward. The event raised nearly $2,500. The night would not have been complete without half-off Jameson shots, Jack’s drink of choice.
The gestures in remembrance of Jack did not stop there. With the help of a professor with connections, senior Jillian Postal got the San Diego Chargers, Jack’s lifeblood, to sign a personalized jersey for him. Just above “GODFREY” on the back of the jersey is written, “Rest in peace, Jack. ~The San Diego Chargers.” The love for Jack truly spread from coast to coast, in an embrace echoing the incredible impact that Jack had on our lives.
Jack’s friends from his hometown of Ardsley, New York created a video in his memory, with personal sentiments left by his friends, his family, and past teachers.
Jack’s father and the university created the Jack Godfrey Memorial Scholarship Fund to provide help to students who share Jack’s passion for creative writing. For information and donations to the scholarship, please visit http://godfreyscholarship.umd.edu.
“When I spoke to the Diamondback writer who wrote Jack’s obituary, they asked if I had any pictures solely of Jack…” said Jack’s father John Godfrey, who choked up mid-sentence, “…where his arms weren’t wrapped around his friends next to him. I couldn’t find any. That reinforced what kind of person I knew he was.”
Jack lived his life as if he knew he would only have a short time on this earth. With a smile that changed moods, and a truthfulness and honesty that urged others to act similarly, his personality commanded the room. He was never more than a breath away from a witty one-liner, or a quick joke about a friend.
Jack was a movie buff. With all of my heart, I waited for the director to yell, “Cut! Great work everybody,” and allow us to end this somber scene. No such instruction was given.
Jack was more than a brother to us, and his loss will resonate throughout our lives forever. We will always feel the unfairness, the sorrow, the emptiness left by the passing of our close friend. The comfort, however, comes from knowing that we can follow his example. We can still live our lives thoughtfully, purposefully, and with the intention to better ourselves and everyone around us. That is the creed Jack lived by. He will always be a reminder of how far a loving embrace or kind word can travel.
On behalf of TKE, I would like to extend a specific thank you to our brothers and sisters in Greek life, who have stood by us ever since that tragic Thursday. No words can describe the comforting blanket of an entire Greek community banding together to support a deceased member. It was a comfort that felt as powerful as a hug from Jack. You have our utmost thanks and sincerity for everything you have done. We hope we never have to be there for any of you in the same way that you all were there for us. But if we do, Jack will be there too, right alongside us.
We miss our friend, and we miss our brother. Rest easy buddy.
Here’s to John Liam Godfrey.