Early in the morning, On Sept. 18 Lyons Township High School lost the greatest man to ever walk its halls. This man entertained more than David Hasselhoff, showed more physical toughness than Jeff Hornacek and always ended his lists with three things. His name was Jack Kunkle, and I am honored that he touched my life, and that I could consider him a good friend.

To understand what made Jack Kunkle LT’s greatest man, you must understand the circumstances in which he grew up. In sixth grade, Jack was diagnosed with brain cancer. And after a long and strenuous bout with the horrible disease, Jack beat it. However, near the end of Jack’s treatment and check-ups he discovered that his mother had been diagnosed with colon cancer. Mrs. Kunkle, just like Jack got the better of the horrible disease and is in remission. Then, nearly five years into his remission, Jack found out that he once again had brain cancer.

Jack Kunkle didn’t have to be as awesome as he was. In fact, he had every excuse to be a bitter, angry person, constantly dwelling in the sadness of his life. The fact that he was the exact opposite is what made him so extraordinary.

I was friends with Jack Kunkle. He was a very important person in my life. He helped me find my faith again. He was my hero. I will not elaborate on specific details our relationship, because it was by no means unique. Jack touched nearly everyone he met. Many people found their faith with him. His mental toughness, his kindness and his laughter in the face of death led many to aspire to be like him.

It is a common trend among the media to romanticize a person after their death. We hear how great of a person Phillip Seymour Hoffman was, how compassionate Joan Rivers was. Such is not the case with Jack Kunkle. Do not think of these tales of greatness, these chronicles of a kind, passionate, loving person as romanticized. They are not. Jack Kunkle is every bit of man that we make him out to be.

Jack could walk into a dull conversation and have everyone laughing in a matter of seconds. Jack could hug you, and any pain and sadness would vanish. Jack would always take time out of his day to greet you in the hallways, and while his interactions were not exclusive, they always made you feel special. Just seeing Jack, donning his blue cap and zip up hoodie, put everything in perspective and made you smile.

This brings me back to the point I made when this column began: Jack is the greatest man to ever walk LT’s halls. We can focus on previous graduates’ accolades, accomplishments and fame; but then we are completely misevaluating what makes a great man. A great man constantly shows love, is always kind and makes those around him more joyful. A great man cares about other’s issues, inspires those around him and strives to improve not just your day, but your life. No person fits this description better than Jack.

It is also important to remember that as great as Jack was, as much of a superhero or messiah he sometimes appeared to be, he was above all else, human. He had hands that felt like he stored them in a fridge all the time. He constantly corrected grammar. He had the sleeping habits of either a 5-year-old or an 80-year-old man.

I don’t think I will ever be the same now that Jack is gone. But, to be fair, my life was never the same after I met him. And in the end, having just known him, I’d consider my life happier, kinder, and funnier. I’m sure many people at LT feel the exact same way.