John Wesley Barrett

John Wesley Barrett, beloved brother, husband, father, and Pappy, died peacefully on September 4, 2026, in Topeka, Kansas, at the age of 90. 

John was born on September 11, 1935, the eighth of ten children of William and Myrtle Barrett, and his earliest days were spent on the family poultry farm. He was closest in age, appearance, and mannerisms to his brother Jack, just over a year his senior, and throughout their lives family members affectionately called the pair “Tweedledum and Tweedledee.” He felt especially protective of his sisters — Pauline, whose lifelong disability kept her from receiving a formal education; Donna, with whom he spent many years in Topeka while their children were young; and Carolyn and Bonnie, whose gentle warmth so echoed their mother’s. 

A lifelong Topekan, John remained the family’s steady connector as his siblings grew up, married, and scattered across the country. He was often the first call for major life updates — the birth of a new niece or nephew, a new job or a new address, an illness or a death — because family knew they could count on both his even temperament and his knack for reaching anyone at a moment’s notice. Later in life, he represented his siblings in overseeing the construction and dedication of Barrett Plaza at their alma mater, Topeka High School, where a plaque honoring his parents, siblings, and their spouses stands as a reminder to today’s students of what the family meant to their community and to each other. 

John was not only a dear brother, but a devoted husband and father. After graduating high school and while living with his sister Donna in Kansas City, he met Cynthia Greb. Balcony seats at the movie theater, combined with his winning personality, outshone any other suitor, and the two began a partnership that would last the remaining seven decades of his life. They married in 1957 and, in 1959, welcomed their first daughter, Karyn. Their second daughter, Amy, arrived eight years later.

For Karyn and Amy, what stands out most is not a single moment but a collection of John’s fatherly habits: his calm watchfulness as they got into mischief with their cousins, his unwavering support for their friendships, relationships, and careers, and his wisdom through all of life’s many ups and downs. He was tolerant even of the 17-year-old admirer who turned up for Amy on a motorcycle — a memory son-in-law Rich still fondly recalls from his teenage years. And no birthday, graduation, or “just because” card arrived without one of his signature poems, written just for the occasion, putting his love for them on paper in keepsakes they will cherish for the rest of their lives. 

While raising his young family, John earned his bachelor’s degree from Washburn University and his master’s from the University of Kansas, followed by a long career leading therapy programs for psychiatric patients at the Menninger Clinic until his retirement. His work there proved to be far more than a job, and as friends and family grappled with their own struggles with mental health, John served as a quiet guide, offering insight and support to those whose lives felt, at times, unbearably heavy.

John took on what would become his best-loved role, “Pappy,” with the birth of his first grandchild, Elizabeth, in 1990. Four more grandchildren — Jacob, Caroline, Ben, and Jordan — soon followed, and for the next two decades Pappy was a fixture at their sporting events, concerts, and dance recitals. But his grandchildren’s most treasured memories are not of him cheering from the bleachers or bringing them bouquets of pink roses. Rather, they are of “math camp” — entire weekends spent poring over tricky homework or missed assignments with their grandfather across the table. Though it could feel like punishment at the time, especially for the grandchild who’d fallen behind, by Sunday every one of them knew without a doubt that their Pappy loved them beyond words. Ever the peacekeeper, he would say yes without a moment’s hesitation if any of his grandchildren asked whether they were his favorite — no matter how recently he’d given the same yes to one of the others. 

Thirty years into his life as Pappy, three great-grandchildren arrived — Lily, Lincoln, and his namesake, Liam John — and even as his body began to stiffen, John remained utterly dedicated to tickling and teasing the little ones to their endless delight. At nearly 90 years old, he never once admitted that he’d gotten himself stuck on the floor after getting down to play. 

As memories from his children, grandchildren, nieces, nephews, and friends have poured in, one thread runs through them all: John Barrett had an incomparable gift for making the people around him feel singularly, undeniably special. A humble request to dance at a family gathering. A peppermint pulled magically from behind an ear. A ride on his back at the swimming pool. A conspiratorial look across the dinner table when one of his jokes landed only with you. Fifty years later, his daughters’ childhood friends still remember what his kindness, care, and dry sense of humor meant to them at moments when those things were desperately needed. 

John is survived by his wife, Cynthia; two daughters, Karyn and Amy (Rich); five grandchildren, Elizabeth (Nic), Jacob, Caroline (Tom), Ben, and Jordan; three great-grandchildren, Lily, Lincoln, and Liam; three siblings, Donna (Stuart), Dick (Linda), and Carolyn (Frank); and dozens of beloved nieces and nephews. Each carries on his enduring legacy of compassion, humility, and patience. Many also inherited his love of dancing, his quick wit, and — prior to his six decades of baldness — his red hair. 

He was preceded in death by his parents, William and Myrtle; six siblings, Pauline, Paul, Bill, Tom, Bonnie, and Jack; and a Barrett sibling who died unnamed in infancy, whose unmarked grave John spent many years trying to identify so it could bear a Barrett headstone. His surviving family’s sincerest wish is that he has been reunited with his parents and siblings whom he loved so dearly. 

John Barrett always put his family first, and in 90 years he never met a person he would not welcome into it. 

A private service will be held for immediate family. In lieu of flowers, please consider making a donation to the Michael J. Fox Foundation for Parkinson's Research in honor of John’s sister Carolyn.

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