In the early 1970s, John wrote "Cooler Water, Higher Ground," one of his many highly personalized songs, in which he sang "I was born in the heat of September, and I died in the cool of the fall ... borning and dying we do all the time, it don't mean much of nothing at all." But his passing will mean so much, to so many, around the world.

John's all-time companion and wife Buffy, and his children -- Mikael, Jeremy, Amy, and Luke -- were at his side when he passed peacefully around 7:30 a.m. Pacific time. John never regained consciousness after collapsing early Friday, and was not in pain during his time at Scripps Mercy Hospital in San Diego. John and Buffy spent Thursday evening with Nick Reynolds and his wife in Coronado; a great dinner, then an evening talking about and singing old Trio songs. They listened to the recently released Trio live shows from 1966 and from what I understand they laughed and cried tears of joy at the memories from those days. Buffy described it as a beautiful and special evening, and it wasn't much later, back at their hotel, that John was stricken.

John leaves an unparalleled compilation of musical excellence, having recorded over 45 solo albums following his seven years in the Kingston Trio. He worked up to the time of his death, and recently completed his latest, as-yet untitled, album. A rough guess is that he wrote more than 600 unique and highly personal songs, many of them constituting a modern musical history of his beloved America, and leaves behind a wide-ranging group of fans who have felt a passion for him and his music that bordered on fanaticism. Chief among them are the Bloodliners, a hard-core legion of supporters who communicated online every day with John and each other.

It can now be told that John learned last summer that he was suffering from the initial stages of Alzheimer's disease, news that was kept from the public in the hope that his condition would stabilize and allow him to work until the disease took its eventual toll. Indeed he had stabilized, and was able to perform several concert shows as well as complete his last album.

If there is a blessing in his passing, it is that he will now be spared the ravages of that awful disease, and will not suffer the gradual personal mental reductions caused by Alzheimer's, although, owing to California law, he was already unable to drive. In fact, one of his last songs is "I Can't Drive Anymore," a typically honest and emotional personal reaction to his situation.

Speaking personally, losing John creates a hole in my soul. I agonized for months over the Alzheimer's prognosis, but after talking with many of his friends and family yesterday, I can see that -- facing a debilitating future -- it was -- and this is so hard to say --the right time for him to go. This is what he would have wanted, in light of what he ultimately faced.

Johnny always drew a crowd, and there was a gathering of friends at the hospital in San Diego over the past two days. Starting with Nick Reynolds from John's Trio days and his wife Leslie, John's entire family had been joined at his bedside by longtime sidekick Dave "Dave" Batti, John Hoke, Chuck McDermott, Greg Jorgenson, John's boyhood best friend George Yanok, who flew in from Nashville upon hearing the news, and other family, friends, and acquaintances. A kind of "Irish wake" was held throughout Friday and into early Saturday, with the friends and old band mates sharing many of the limitless John Stewart stories.

I'm so sorry to have to write this, to have to tell you this. Outside of my closest family members, John was the brightest light of my life, and his death creates an emptiness that can never be filled. If you are tempted to mourn at great length today, as so many of us surely are, we have to remind ourselves of what a gift he was for all of us and how lucky we all were to have had the opportunity to have shared in his amazing music and stage artistry. We might, each of us, have missed him, you know. But--lucky for us--we didn't.

John hated moping around, and looked for the bright side, and laughter, in everything. He wouldn't even allow me to be 'down' about having cancer. He even berated me at one point about it. He had amazing drive, and a creative force within him that was stunning in its intensity and breadth. And some day his amazing personal songs will be discovered by a mass audience, and the world at large, and he will receive the wide-ranging accolades he was denied in his time.

Trust me. Think about him today, listen to that incredible body of his work, think about the electric personality we experienced in EVERY show he did .. in the literally thousands and thousands of performances in which he gave us everything he had, stretching from venues big and small, from coast to coast, from 1957 to 2007. You will smile when you do; and eventually laugh when recalling the magic of his art and personality. We will not see his like again, but we have been so lucky to have shared him across the decades -- and found each other through him, because of him. It does not feel like it, but we are the lucky ones today. That will become evident in the time to come.

Because, like you ... I loved him too.

Tom DeLisle