Nathan Meehling

My brother deserves a poetic summary of the complex beauty of his life. On the other hand, I want to make grim jokes that would bring out his deepest belly laugh.

Nathan was always my hero. Always. He taught me a deep appreciation for films, books, and food. We obsessed over The Wire. We took apple cider vinegar shots in the kitchen and hid ice cream in the basement. He always included me and asked for my opinion. I kept lists as he was talking just to keep up. He was smart and clever and lovable beyond belief. I never allowed myself to imagine a future without him in it.

I’m so thankful for everyone who came here to memorialize my big brother. The waves of hurt are calmed by these messages. Below is something of a eulogy inspired by the films that he loved and shared with me.

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Chapter 38.
Nathan

John Nathaniel Meehling moved into the house on Flock Avenue in the summer of his 12th year, after it was purchased by his father, William D. Meehling. His mother, Tamatha Murphy, kept the house and raised the children, and their education was her highest priority.

Nathan had, since secondary school, taken most of his meals over the sink, stepping side to side in ankle weights for maximum efficiency. He was an early adopter of cognitive calisthenics, and he spent the time saved conquering levels in the digital world.

Prior to graduating, Nathan studied film, explored local architecture, and spent many late nights honing a natural talent for ten-pin bowling. By his late teens, he seemed to have an almost preternatural understanding of the international metric system, which led him to a successful entrepreneurial career.

He did not like vapid conversations for the sake of politeness. He did not like technical inaccuracies in works of fiction. He did not like the American criminal justice system.

Nathan Meehling liked taste-testing an unexpected culinary creation; online videos of canines receiving chiropractic care; discovering a new word, looking up the definition in a paper dictionary, and using it in a sentence.

Throughout the early 2000’s, Nathan trained as a championship boxer, cyclist and chess player. He slept on a floor-bound mattress at an apartment on Taylor Street and survived mostly on Phish Food and cigarettes. Later, he would find himself unable to shake this acquired taste for gas station sustenance, despite enjoying some of the world’s finest cuisines.

When a deformity was discovered in his spine, he relocated to Oklahoma City for medical care and became undetectable by the media and others for a number of years. In fact virtually all memory of the brilliance of the young Meehling had withstood two decades of betrayal, failure, and disaster. And yet, each time, he recovered. He could not be intimidated, discouraged or buried by the members of the Deadly Viper Assassination Squad that hunted him.

During the months before his death, Nathan enjoyed a life of optimistic sobriety in Austin, TX. He meditated. He read as much literature as he could carry. He stopped at every Mimosa Pudica to watch in childlike awe as the plant reflexively closed its leaves in response to his touch. He called his mother and went home for Christmas.

Nathan Meehling died at age 38. He had no will, so a private memorial was planned to be held at dusk. It was agreed among them that Nathan would have found the atypical event most satisfactory. The few possessions he left to his heirs included a pocket dictionary, a surplus of oral hygiene supplies, and a pair of Crocs.

Although he will have no headstone, if he did, it may read something like this:

John Nathaniel Meehling
1986–2025
Tragically lost at sea during a rescue mission

I love looking back here periodically & finding new photos and memories.♥️

I remember once taking a 2 1/2 hour car ride with Nathan during which he only stopped talking to take breaths. He even joked, at around the hour and a half mark, about the fact that he was talking so much. Then he kept right on going, all the way to Michigan.
It was one of the most fun car rides I've ever had, and a memory I come back to frequently. Nathan had many gifts. Obviously he could talk. Lots of people can talk. Not many people can captivate us the way Nathan could, seemingly effortlessly. He could make me feel like a car ride to Michigan was a party, and that he was hoping I'd be there, so he could share with me everything that had gone through his head since the last time I'd seen him. One of the aches I feel right now is the ache of not being able to look forward to another ride with Nathan, in which he amazes me as much with his insight as with his stamina.

I am touched beyond words at all of the beautiful memories & tributes to my beloved nephew...💜
I'll share but one of my many precious memories of sweet Nathan...
Imagine if you will the most perfect spring / summer day you can...
Nathan, Nicole, & I were sitting on my parents' back-porch swing.
He was just a little boy.
~ Blue sky, white clouds, gentle breeze...
*Nathan looked up at me with his sweet face & said:
"This is like a dream."
I will never forget that precious moment.🥲💕

This particular grief is really multi-faceted. I guess I’d expect nothing less from my Nathan.

Jack Duszynski and I became friends in 8th grade and were forced apart when he ended up at Benet in high school, where he wore a tie every day and called me to tell me daily how boring mass was before German class. Soon he was regaling me with stories about new classmates, one in particular that he found charming or silly or funny or smart but it was some combination of those things. And so I met Nathan in a carpeted basement, as all teenagers
in the suburbs meet, and soon the phone wouldn’t stop ringing. On the other end was an argumentative, silly, thought-provoking young freckled man who presumed to learn about every single thing there was to learn about in earth. He wanted to do everything, see everywhere, eat every food, hear every song. He described the people he knew as if they were the most interesting people on earth, tossing hyperboles about them out like confetti. He longed for the worldly, wizened vibe that the Dos Equis man gave off - which is to say he was a champagne man with a dirt-beer aftertaste.

He took me to dances, made us dinners, swept me to the tops of buildings all over Naperville and then Chicago. He made everyone around him take chances, which sometimes ended with memories so vivid and quality and others that ended up with us wiping up blood with our socks. He was just as loyal as he was deeply invested in gossip, kind as he was vengeful, invested as he was disinvested. A walking juxtaposition, who eventually grew into his smile (though I always missed the cheeks he had on when I first met him).

Talking with friends this week it wasn’t lost on any of us how many dreams he had. Nathan wanted to be everything: a lawyer, restaurant owner, professor, millionaire, pauper. I do wonder if the idea of choosing just one was what kept him from making any choice at all. What he actually ended up being was a connector: without him there are entire marriages, relationships, friendships, roommates, stalemates that would not have ever existed without him. I wonder if he knew how much we loved him, how much we waited for him with open arms to return to us. All I want is just one more cigarette outside a Miller St. party with him, with him pontificating under a street light. Instead I settled for the breath of relief that came when I would ask if he was doing better. Sometimes he was.

I’ll remember Nathan for the rest of my life. My heart is broken. My love I had for him has no place to go. I wish he could have come to my wedding, met my son. I wish he was here in Chicago with us to mourn him because he would have loved to relive the stories.

I love you Nathan. I love you Meehlings. Thank you for sharing him with us. He was such a complicated gift and I’m so grateful to have received him.

Go Mordecai

I regret missing the last Christmas reunion, as I had not seen Nathan for some time, maybe since he lived in Naperville. Nathan had more charisma than I could ever dream of! I think he also became the tallest member of the family!
Love and prayers forever! Uncle Tom from Colorado.

I met Nathan on the first day of 6th grade in study hall. We were sat across from each other and almost immediately bonded over Monty Python and the Holy Grail quotes. Our affinity for the absurd was immediately set and the only continued to grow. Many people have friends growing up, made either from those in your neighborhood or through family, but Nathan was the first friend I ever made. Just as quickly as our friendship was made so we're the memories. Nothing ever felt cheap with him. Each time we hung out was written into my heart, however mundane it may have been, as two boys bouncing their interpretation of the quiet suburban world they grew up in together was. I loved and still do love Nathan dearly. As we grew into adulthood our experiences together remained largely focused on a romantic approach to dissect the hand we were all dealt. Nathan was an artist at heart, he had a way with words, with thinking, with diving into subjects in a way that would make you snap awake to the beauty you had overlooked. I missed him. I thought of him often if not every day and I will continue to. My life would be a fraction of what it is without him, I'll love you forever Nathan, we'll be together again one day.

Nathan was my best friend growing up in Naperville. I have so many memories of us together (riding bikes all over town, hanging out at his house constantly, sleepovers, walking home from school together, piano lessons and recitals, video games hours on end). I looked up to him greatly and learned a lot about life from him. Then high school came and we went to different schools. This was the start of our slow drift apart. I saw him less and less, and then never again. We would periodically update each other over the years but the last time we communicated was almost 10 years ago. I truly regret not reaching out more. I should not have taken our friendship for granted and am now deeply saddened that a huge part of my childhood and adolescence is gone. Rest in peace old friend.

Nathan was my nephew, and I was lucky to see him often, including many holidays and family get togethers. As a child Nathan was a sweet boy and as he matured his kindness, and compassion remained an enduring and integral part of his character. He always took time to acknowledge and engage with those around him, whether they were his 5 or 10 year old cousins, or much older adults. While I have many fond memories of Nathan, one of my favorite impressions was during a large family trip to Jamaica. I remember one day we all climbed Dunn’s River Falls, and with grandparents and a 3 and 5 year old it was challenging, but Nathan always seemed to be in the right place to help get his young cousins over obstacles or lend a steady hand to his grandmother. During our rather large family dinners, Nathan repeatedly made it a point to include and engage his young cousins in dinner conversations, which often turned out to be fun and entertaining. Nathan was deeply loved by his family and will forever be in our hearts.

This family will cherish the great years we had with Nathan. Our holidays with guitar and singing, games, and lots of laughter. One of my favorite trips was when we all went to Jamaica and stayed in the big house. Also.loved ski trips tp Montana and snorkel trips to St. Martin. Nathan could do it all. Nathan could discuss any subject and
debate any person. My heart aches for my daughter because I believe the worst thing in life is losing a child.

Nathan was one of those friends who left a lasting imprint on my life. During high school, we shared so many moments of adventure and laughter. I’ll always remember our nights climbing rooftops in downtown Naperville, feeling like we owned the world as we looked out over the city. We’d spend hours battling it out in Super Smash Bros., always keeping a pillow on hand to scream into after a tough loss.

We spent countless hours driving around and, as Jeff put it, we were “generally up to no good.” But those were truly magical times, and I look back on those memories with so much fondness. I’ll never forget seeing Andrew W.K. live and having the time of our lives. With Nathan, it was always an adventure—but there were also the quiet moments.

We had deep conversations about life, religion, and anything on our minds. Nathan was thoughtful and smart, with a way of making even the simplest moments unforgettable. I’ll always be grateful for the time we had, the memories we made, and the friendship we shared.

Rest easy, my friend. You are deeply missed.

Can’t believe such a joyful friend is gone so soon. I’ll always remember the good times, how you welcomed everyone with open arms and showed your love through your cooking. You’ll never be forgotten.

My sincere condolences go out to Nathan’s family members. I hope you all gain comfort in knowing Nathan is no longer suffering. Hold on to the memories that you all share, knowing he would not want you to despair.
Sincerely,

Eleanor Henson Cheffer

Nate,

I wish we had stayed in touch into adulthood. You were always so much fun to hang out with. I appreciate your perspective on many things. I hope you’re in a better place and I think you had so much untapped potential. You were kind, funny, and so intelligent. I will miss you dearly man.

With love,
Peter

I must’ve met Nathan when we were both about 15 or 16, both sophomores in high school. I was immediately struck by how nonchalant and cool he was. He also had a certain confidence that made you laugh. We hit it off and quickly became friends. Really we just yucked it up constantly, pushing the patience of our teachers but having the most fun. We would draw inappropriate comics in each other’s text books, and pull elaborate pranks on each other. I’m glad there aren’t many records of these… Our friendship soon grew beyond the classroom and we would spend nights and weekends together playing video games, driving around and generally up to no good. This was a really magical time. I remember watching lost in translation with him. I remember listening to Andrew WK a lot. I remember suddenly feeling the exhilaration of coming of age. Then senior year happened and we traveled to Japan together. Nathan then became more than a friend - he became family. So as we grew older and went through the same stages of life together, like going to college, and sharing an apartment I always thought of him like a brother - somebody who I had unconditional love for no matter what or how hard it became. Nathan was a genuinely cool person and I felt honored he was interested in hanging out with me. I feel like he made me cooler by proxy. I feel like he had a poets heart and his poetry was his life. We shared a lot of important coming of age milestones together. We shared a few (and probably not enough) difficult conversations. We shared a lot of one-of-a-kind moments that I’ll always cherish. I miss you and love you Nay-bud.

Nathan, you will always be in my heart for being a good friend to Gavin all those years ago…and all the pranks you two pulled. I particularly remember the time I put my glass up to the ice dispenser and had a Mr. Freeze figurine pop into my glass! The two of you were so curious and creative. I never knew what would come next. And you were Maddy’s big brother and I kept up with your journeys through Maura.

I’m so sorry for all the challenges and struggles you endured. It took a lot of courage and strength to keep trying. And now our hearts are broken but at peace knowing your struggle is over.
My deepest sympathy to your family. I can’t imagine the depth of their grief. But I hope they can remember you and Gavin, two little boys with the map of Ireland on their faces, and smile. You two were two of a kind that didn’t always fit the mold that was expected by others. But you sure had fun and I will always be thankful that you were his friend.