Farewell to a brother

On the wall at home I have a picture of my brother Rex and me in a tennis tournament as kids. In my office, there are pictures of us together in front of the house we grew up in, as well as photos together at business events. When I play ping pong or tennis or watch football with my daughters or, currently, do anything, my mind often turns to fond memories of growing up with a brother who loved sports, laughter and competition – and who was a business partner for the past 20 years.

Thursday night my brother, 52 years old, died after a valiant, yearlong battle against pancreatic cancer. It was a difficult year, which at many times was leavened by Rex’s determination to make other people laugh, even as he faced more dire diagnoses. Throughout, he and his wife Sherry displayed incredible devotion to each other, giving each other strength and affirmation, and sharing their story of faith with the world through social media. It is a story that has inspired hundreds – if not thousands – and led to an outpouring of support and encouragement that speaks to the generosity of the human spirit, as well as to the memories so many have of having fun with a fun-loving individual.

During most of 2021 our larger family had a prayer circle online, and at 8 p.m. each day, brothers and sisters, parents and children, we stopped to pray, to share thoughts and memories, photographs, and many jokes, because Rex loved jokes.

We regularly took communion, sometimes with water and pretzels, in prayer for his health and Sherry’s wellbeing. He was on our minds and in our hearts, even as he struggled through the worst. Early on, he told us that he was at peace with the idea of death; his faith rooted his outlook. He was more worried about taking care of his wife.

Rex was a stellar athlete at Cape Central and the Deerfield Academy boarding school in Massachusetts, a Harvard graduate — who also studied at the London School of Economics — an investment banker in New York City and a venture capitalist in Chicago and Richmond before returning to Cape Girardeau in 2000, where besides work he served as chairman of several organizations such as the Chamber Board, Old Town Cape and the university’s booster club. Elsewhere in this newspaper, those and many other accomplishments will be reported. But everywhere he went, he built friendships marked by incredible experiences and fun.

Indeed, there were few places Rex would go where he wasn’t noticed, and he loved to create laughter, whether singing at full volume to a busy restaurant, dancing on a table or doing the worm on the floor to amazed bystanders. Almost always the laughs came at his own expense, and anyone who spent time with him undoubtedly has a story about his craziness. I have hundreds.

From the way he reached out for the check after an expensive dinner with “Tyrannosaurus Rex arms” to the 20-feet of toilet paper that frequently seemed to get stuck to his pants when emerging from a bathroom break during company meetings.

And his quick wit and recall of popular culture, which were mindbogglingly impressive. And his dance moves both smooth and hilarious. And the way he worked a spreadsheet like a piano virtuoso. And the way he couldn’t keep from crying – blubbering — when giving credit to his wife: endearing. And, and, and…

More than a decade ago, Rex was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis, something most people would never know. He initially kept it quiet, not wanting to be defined by it. But one thing the disease did was draw him closer to Christ. I remember one time talking to him about “tapping into the power of Christ” and he admonished me, saying it wasn’t about power.

Indeed, it isn’t. It’s about grace.

“For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.”

Rest in peace little brother.

Jon K. Rust is co-president of Rust Communications and publisher of the Southeast Missourian. This column originally posted Friday afternoon, Jan. 7.

From left to right, brothers Wynn, Jon and Rex Rust walk alongside their childhood home at 700 N. Pacific in Cape Girardeau, Mo., circa 1973.