In 1997 my wife Liz and I traveled from deepest Herefordshire to East Anglia to see the Eastern Angles’ production of « The Wuffings ». I remember being introduced to John. He was brimming with energy, smiling and ebullient, busy raising funds for the Cystic Fibrosis charity he had been supporting ever since Eileen and Ivan’s son, had been diagnosed. And every time I enquired of Eileen, « How’s John Ryan? » she would tell me he was still busy, still smiling and still raising money. We need more people like John and I am sure he will be, and is, deeply missed. Colin Sanders, Villars, France.

From 1972-1975 I had a 'flat' in John and Margaret's house in Ipswich. I was young, starting my first teaching job and very much overwhelmed and lonely. John was the one who realised some of my unhappiness and sent Margaret up to offer help. From then on I became one of the family. John was a quiet man but he was always very sensitive to the needs and moods of others. He was endowed with a dry sense of humour and fun. I remember one day when the rest of the household all seemed to have other things to do and John invited me to view his homemade wine in the cellar. We ended up sampling the rather delicious, seemingly innocuous sparkling elderflower! After a few glasses the world looked rosy indeed and by the end of the bottle we had exchanged life stories and our take on family, faith and life. The world was definitely set to rights that evening. John was a lovely person and my time in the Ryan household was one of the happiest of my life.

I have very happy memories of meeting Mr Ryan in the early eighties. Eileen reminded me that I always leaned in to catch his drift through that wonderful Irish accent. He created a lovely home for his children and struck me as a hard working, conscientious man of conviction. My thoughts are with Mrs Ryan and the family. Olly xx

My Memories of Mr Ryan are predominantly from when he used to bring Finn to his Karate classes. He would always engage me in bright, cheery conversation whilst checking that Finn was progressing as he should. I loved his sense of humour and fun, always looking to crack a joke with everyone. Most impressive was his regular participation in games at the end of the classes. He frequently joined a team for dodgeball and occasionally basketball too. Considering he was in his 80s at the time and still moving extremely well for his age, he raised more than the occasional eyebrow from the other (significantly younger) parents. I didn't know him in any other context but that of Grandad to a student, and what a Grandad. If I can engage with my Grandchildren in the way he did with Finn, I will consider myself a cool Grandfather. RIP Sir.

Mr Ryan was a lovely man. We had our chats when he came over to Eileen's. We would talk about our tortoise - he used to come and see him in the garden. Mr Ryan (or 'John', he said to call him) told us he used to work for Crane's in Ipswich. I said one of my brothers used to work there. He liked to talk about our car and the motorhome and where we had been, because he had a caravan at one time. He told us he was so proud to carry the Olympic torch in Woodbridge and very much enjoyed his day. David and Ann Clark, Harleston

The following was sent to Eileen by, Fr Iain Matthew, who first met Dad when he and Eileen were in the Sixth Form at St Joseph's. From when I knew you in the sixth form, including a few times I visited your home, I remember Mr Ryan as a person who was in the background: I had an impression of him as a hard-working father, a man of few words, supportive of his wife who (Mum) was very welcoming and kind, and of his children. He was undergirding the whole Ryan event. I also remember being in the car, being given a lift, with you and some others, and Mr Ryan driving. I think it may have been a poetry evening at Ipswich School, because my more distinct memory is that there was a certain ooing and ahhing regarding one poetry contribution, and at one point Mr Ryan expressed his view in a calm, straightforward way (nothing crusading about it) but which was something of a “the Emperor hasn’t got any clothes” moment. What specially strikes me is his ability to say something controversial (i.e. “but the Emperor hasn’t got any clothes”) with calmness and no show of ego. But the impression of his being a background person was duly corrected in more recent years, when Finn’s health condition came on the scene. I mean the devotion and guts with which Dad was there for you. That’s a short phrase, for what in actual life was something huge. It was mutual too: your parents’ love for you, but also yours for them, letting them be one with you and Ivan and Finn and then Edwin in the challenging situation you were living. A few years ago (I’ve been trying to remember when; it may have been something like 2014; or it may have been earlier) I met Mr and Mrs Ryan by chance when Fenella and I were visiting the Slipper Chapel at Walsingham. I think I was there with Fen, which is why I say 2014. It’s just possible I was there with Ma, so a few years before. As you see, my memory is not as razor sharp as it was when we were learning chunks of Othello! What is razor sharp, or rather unforgettable in its intensity, is what follows. I was separated from Fen at the moment of bumping into your parents; it was a lovely surprise and there was a warm greeting, and we then went in opposite directions. A few seconds later, Mr Ryan, alone, came back to me. As you’ll see from the above, I had scarcely exchanged anything more than pleasantries with him in my entire life. He came and spoke to me. I don’t even remember exactly what he said, though it was about his faith in God, his relationship with Jesus. He spoke with tears in his eyes, with a passion and love which left me, to use a theological term, gobsmacked. And then he left. It was like I had been visited by an angel; or rather, by a man of faith whose heart was on fire, a deep mellow kind of a fire. I don’t know what to make of it, I have never told anyone, and I’ll never forget it.

My memory of John Ryan dates back to Eileen’s school days at the Ipswich Convent. It was a Parents Open Evening and I somehow remember him as a quiet presence with Eileen’s mother as we briefly discussed Eileen’s progress. He came over as a good and loving father, concerned but not demanding. I am happy to join his family and friends in thanking God for his life and unite with their prayers that he may now rest in the peace and joy of His Presence.