Support the Hostler Family After Tragic Loss

In Loving Memory of My Dad, John

December 31, 2024

On December 31, 2024, on what should have been an evening spent reminiscing about the past, looking forward to our futures, and toasting to the new year - our family was struck by unimaginable tragedy. Mere hours before the new year, we unexpectedly lost a coach to many, a teacher to others, a loving father to my brother and me, and a devoted husband of over 25 years to his wife Wendy. We lost the best man I’ve ever known - my dad, John (52).

For those of us who were lucky enough to know John, we knew him as one of the kindest and most giving individuals around. His warmth touched everyone he met, from his regular visits to local small businesses like Cesaroni's and the Greenhouse coffee shop, to his dedication to sustainable living - a passion he developed to support my work in environmental sustainability. John was the type of person who would work tirelessly to help anyone in need, showing compassion in even the smallest ways, like his refusal (at my fearful insistence) to harm even the scariest of spiders.

As a father, John was extraordinary. He wasn't just a provider; he was a best friend, confidant, and constant source of support when we needed it most. He spent countless hours playing soccer with me when I was younger, and as I grew older, our bond only strengthened. Many of my friends wouldn’t think of calling anyone other than their friends or acquaintances when they needed advice - but my dad was always the first person I’d call.

John's greatest dream for my brother and me was to give us all the opportunities he never had. Despite facing financial challenges that prevented him from attending college, he worked tirelessly to ensure that, no matter what, he’d help us pursue higher education, a dream he was lucky enough to see partially fulfilled before his passing. His unwavering support and guidance helped me through college, standing by me through everything from academic challenges to personal struggles and anxiety. He never wanted me to feel alone, and I never did with him by my side.

Because he’d taken such good care of us growing up, sacrificing his own personal goals, dreams, and financial ambitions - I wanted to give him the worry-free life he worked so hard to give us. I didn’t always see or understand how hard he was working for us when I was a little girl, but as I’ve grown up, I wish I would have thanked him more.

About a year ago, I shared with him a dream I had; a dream of one day buying a coastal cottage for my mom and dad - a place where they could finally slow down, take walks along the beach, and tend to a small sustainable garden. I’m sure he’d probably spend a little time inside too - if the Eagles were playing anyway. (Go Birds!)

I looked forward to popping in for an unannounced visit, knowing he’d be sitting outside, sipping his morning (or afternoon, or evening) cup of coffee with my mom. Now, tragically, that dream will remain unfulfilled. He, and I were both counting the years…

The suddenness of losing my dad has left us all shattered. My mom - his partner of 27 years - my brother, and I are trying to navigate this devastating loss while facing unexpected expenses we weren't prepared for. I know this is being posted a little later than you might expect it to be, and I’m sorry for that. It hasn’t been easy these past few weeks.

My dad’s first priority was always spending time with us, and while I can’t possibly be more grateful, and thankful he made that decision - he did so at the cost of his personal, and professional ambitions.

In business, John wasn't often a man who wanted the spotlight; in fact, he did almost everything he could to avoid it. Instead of recognition, he preferred to stay behind the scenes, letting others take credit for projects big & small that were successful largely due to his strategic input - and his copy. His words moved hundreds of thousands of people to take action, though he rarely claimed, or even wanted the recognition he deserved.

I recently learned he was constantly shunning the spotlight because he believed that when the focus on him grew, the time he’d be able to spend with us would shrink. He turned down countless very lucrative partnerships, speaking, and teaching opportunities - all so he could be sure he was home, and available whenever I wanted to take one of our walks around the neighborhood, spend a few hours kicking around a soccer ball, or help my brother with his homework.

One of John’s greatest strengths as a copywriter was his ability to connect and move people through the written word. He was a copywriter across countless industries and spent the better part of 20 years working to perfect his craft. It was something he said he was still working on, even though his friends in the field told me he’d already more than earned the respect and admiration of his peers. In business, a copywriter wasn’t what John was, it was who he was - a title he wore proudly as represented by the large typewriter he had tattooed on his forearm, and the carpal tunnel scars he’d earned on each wrist.

Since my dad passed, I've been speaking with many people from his online business world - people I'm meeting for the first time - and two words keep coming up over and over again: Loyal and Friend. Even though I wasn't involved in his business life, hearing these words didn't surprise me at all. The man they described was the same loving father I always knew at home.

My dad chose to work at home, and be a freelance copywriter largely because he wanted to be able to spend as much time as he could with us while my brother and I were still living there. That decision meant sacrificing the security of a regular paycheck, but to him, as his partners and friends have recently told me - being present in our lives was worth it at any cost.

It wasn't until my brother and I started our own “adult lives” that my dad felt he could finally focus on building something more stable for himself. A little over two years ago, he started a new business - one he hoped would give him and my mom the modest retirement they deserved. I watched him pour everything into making it work, balancing his new venture with freelance projects to keep the bills paid. He'd be on late-night calls with clients overseas, early morning meetings, spending afternoons reviewing documents, and evenings strategizing with partners.

This Christmas, for the first time in over two years, his business was starting to move from red to black. My dad was finally starting to see rewards from all his hard work. Though we never wanted or needed anything extravagant, he was so proud to use the first profits from his new venture to give us a few special gifts. That was my dad - even when his business was finally succeeding, all he cared about was putting smiles on our faces. The hard work he’d put in wasn’t for him, it was for us.

Now his business, built on his unique talents and the relationships he cultivated over 20 years, is unlikely to survive without him. The venture he worked so hard to build isn't sustainable yet, and we're facing the very situation he worked tirelessly to prevent - leaving his family without security. It breaks my heart knowing how much this would hurt him, seeing us struggle with both the emotional and financial weight of his loss.

I never imagined I'd be writing this, asking for help to say goodbye to my best friend, but here I am. If you knew my dad, you knew how he would drop everything to help others in need. Now, I'm asking for your help to honor the man who gave so much to everyone around him.

Any support you can offer, whether it's a small contribution or simply sharing this with others, would mean the world to our family. It would give us the space to grieve and remember my dad without the weight of the immediate financial burdens that have arisen following his passing.

We miss and love you, dad. Thank you for everything you’ve ever done, for everything you gave up for us, and most of all, for just being you.

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