John J. Nolan

John Nolan (91), of Denver, CO, formerly of Oranmore, Co. Galway and Kiltartan, Gort, Co. Galway, Ireland, passed away peacefully surrounded by adoring family on March 3, 2026. The beloved husband of Kay Nolan (predeceased) of Denver, CO, formerly of Brosna, Co. Kerry, Ireland.

Loving father of Sharon and her husband Kevin Brett of Denver, CO. and David and his wife Karen Nolan of Kingston, MA. Brother of Tom Nolan (predeceased), Kiltartan, Gort, Co, Galway, Paddy Nolan (predeceased) England, Mary Follows (predeceased) England, Sarah Bermingham (predeceased) England and Kathleen College (predeceased) England. Sister-in-law of Hannah May and her husband Michael Greally of Dublin, Ireland and brother-in-law of Tom Horan (predeceased), Tralee, Co. Kerry, Ireland.

Grandchildren, Ceire Brett and Jack Brett, Evan Nolan and Robert Nolan. Nephews and nieces in Ireland and England.

John will be missed dearly by his friends at Windsor Gardens, lifelong friends from Boston, MA., those from Oranmore, Co. Galway, his compassionate care giver of 5 years, Stella Nyarko, and all those who had the pleasure of knowing him.

A Funeral Mass will be held at 1 o'clock in the afternoon MT on Saturday, March 14, 2026 at Horan & McConaty, 11150 E. Dartmouth Ave, Aurora, CO 80014. John’s Private Burial will be at Fort Logan National Cemetery, Denver, CO.

In lieu of flowers, please consider a donation to your local Hospice.

Please consider leaving a message of condolence or sharing a memory with the family in the guestbook below.

John’s Journey

John Nolan was born in 1934 at the family home in the farming town-land of Kiltartan, in Gort - “Gort Inse Guaire,” translated into English as “the Field of Guaire” in County Galway, Ireland. He was born to Martin and Bridget Nolan, a farmer’s son and the fifth of six children. Paddy, Tom, Sarah, Mary, and Kathleen, the youngest ... and in time he would outlive them all.

He attended Kiltartan National School, an 18th-century two-room red-brick and stone schoolhouse that still stands today ... and now serves the local community as a museum.

Like so many Irish-men of his generation, John emigrated to the United States in the 1950s, sponsored by his aunt from upstate New York, before moving to Boston to connect with friends in a vibrant Irish community. Friendships made during those early years lasted a lifetime. Many however have since passed on, though a few remain alive and well today. Most notably Jim and Julie Keaney ... Sharon’s “other mother” and Phil Moroney.

My dad dutifully registered for Selective Service and was proud to do so. He joined the United States Army in 1958, serving two years with the “All American Division,” with postings in South Carolina and New Jersey. He qualified as an "Expert Rifle Marksman" and was honorably discharged in 1960. During those years he earned his United States citizenship, something he was also immensely proud of, and rightly so.

After his military service, Dad moved back to Boston where he met his future wife, Kay, also known as Kitty, though she kept that bitta-info ... to herself. I’m guessing they met at a dance. Back in those days the dance halls, with their Irish show-bands, were the go-to places to meet, connect and socialize.

They later married and welcomed two fine children into the world, Sharon in 1963 and me in 1964. I'm so much younger than her. Sharon and I became the centerpiece of their lives in Boston.

Kay was a friend, neighbor, and mentor to many. My dad ... was a little quieter, more reserved by nature, though he did enjoy the Irish dance hall and music scene and was a frequent visitor to Fenway Park to watch the Boston Red Sox. Back in those days, he said ... he could walk up to the ticket-office and simply ... buy a game-day ticket.

My dad loved to sing. Even in the last few days of his life, he sang. It was when he seemed most free, most at ease. Singing allowed him to express himself in a way that words ... simply could not. He was a good singer.

Eventually, my mother’s desire to return to Ireland became too strong for him to contest. Our dad loved America and truly ... never wanted to leave it, but my mother won that debate, and in the end ... things worked out pretty well for our family.

Settling in Galway, the next chapter of my parents life began. Dad first worked for Crown Control, a U.S. based manufacturer of forklift trucks, before later moving on to Beckman Instruments, a U.S. based engineering research and manufacturing company producing medical testing and treatment equipment.

Living in the village of Oranmore, Kay and John / Mom and dad raised their family and lived their lives ... happily and fully ... within a wonderful community. My mom was involved in the local Residents Association and social circles. My dad? Not so much! Numerous meetings of the Cloonarkin Drive Residents Association were held in our kitchen. Dad … was not a fan. Nor was he particularly fond of the well attended Tupperware and Jewelry Parties my mother hosted. Fifteen or twenty women gathered together in the house, most smoking cigarettes, drinking tea and coffee, some a brandy or two ... and talking pure "shite". Dad stayed well out of the way, in the TV room, reading his evening newspaper. He never actually complained, though he did appreciate the $$'s those gatherings generated. Funny how that works.

In Oranmore back in the day, there were many post-pub-closing Saturday night gatherings at our house after the Boston Arms or Keane’s Pub closing. Songs, céilí music, and dancing would fill the air at #2 ... well into the early hours ... of Sunday morning. The local Oranmore police sergeant conveniently overlooked those minor noise'ish violations. Neighbors were always welcome. The more, the merrier.

Some of my most vivid memories of time spent with my dad...revolved around sports. We attended many football and hurling matches together, at Pearse Stadium in Salthill, Páirc Uí Chaoimh in Cork, MacHale Park in Castlebar, Cusack Park in Ennis, the Gaelic Grounds in Limerick, Semple Stadium in Thurles, and of course a few too few trips ... on the Train, from Galway to Croke Park, in Dublin.

We were also fortunate enough to attend the 1980 All-Ireland Hurling Final at Croke Park, when Galway defeated Limerick to win their first hurling championship winning title in 58 years. We followed many club hurling matches as well, in Ballinasloe, Castlegar, Turloughmore, Portumna, and Gort. The drive to and from games provided an opportunity for us to chat, to talk ... some 1-to-1 time to get to know each-other and simply, talk and spend time together. I have always, with great intent and dedication made an effort to do similar with my own two sons. I learned by example, many of the delicate nuances of how to be a good father ... from my own father. He was a good teacher. I experienced it first-hand. He also regularly worked with me on my after-school math home-work, during the few years when he worked nights at Crown Control - on the 04:00-12:00 shift.

Our parents were very different people. Quite different personalities, really. My mother was an enthusiastic extrovert, while my dad ... leaned more toward being an introvert, though was quite sociable and out-going in his own unique way. But, when he was out enjoying himself, having a few pints with friends, he could easily become, and quite often did become, the life of the party. His finer "sweet-spot / fun-time" moments socially were ... during these happy ... sing-song sessions.

After a busy workweek and Saturday household chores, Sundays often meant a family drive. Dad at the wheel, Mom riding shotgun, his ever-present / non-driving co-pilot, and the four of us heading off to places like Clifden, Kylemore Abbey, Maam Cross (feed the donkeys), the Cliffs of Moher (windy), the Burren, and Doolin for some traditional Irish music. A pint for Dad, a brandy for Mom, and a Coke for us. What a day!

Dad also loved to walk ... and I mean, he loved to walk. After Sunday dinner he would head out for a few miles. 3 to 4, sometimes even 5 miles over the course of 2 or 3 hours, usually when we were younger in age, with Sharon and I in lazy tow. At the time we didn’t quite appreciate it, but those walks became some of the most meaningful 2 to 1 times we both spent with him. And, truth be told, my mom probably enjoyed the quiet time at home. Dad knew a little something then. He knew the little, that we didn't. Moms also need down-time to relax and to re-charge the battery ... for the hectic work-week ahead. She usually worked two-jobs. Nights also.

In the 1980s, after Sharon and I returned to the United States following College, my parents followed us in the mid-1990s. They settled in Denver, Colorado, beginning another happy chapter of their lives ... close to their children and grandchildren. They even became Denver Broncos fans. My mom, who never skated a day in her life somehow became an avid Colorado Avalanche fan. Joe Sakic, Peter Forsberg, Patrick Roy ... and the addition of the great Boston Bruin, Raymond Bourque.

In their retirement years, mom and dad enjoyed traveling together. Dad especially had fun when the camcorder was in his hand. He was a regular Steven Spielberg Videographer. They vacationed in Boston, on Cape Cod, Ireland, cruised to Alaska, and most especially ... they loved Hawaii. Oahu became my mother’s heaven on earth and by extension, likely my dad’s happy place too. Happy wife… happy life.

During the later years, my sister Sharon would bring our Dad on their weekly visits to Fort Logan Cemetery, to visit with our late Mom. In the car-ride there and back, she would play all of dad's favorite songs, and he would happily sing along with her. No parents ever had a more attentive, caring, compassionate, loving and devoted daughter. My parents were incredibly fortunate and blessed, to have a wonderful son-in-law, a 2nd to none in my book, in Kevin. Words cannot adequately express, nor convey, the kindness, dedication, and support he gave to both of them over the years. For that, I am and will always be ... deeply grateful. He has set a high bar.

My dad ... was a good father to his son, a good father to his daughter, a loving husband to his wife, and a proud grandfather of his grandchildren. He was an incredibly loyal, honest, dedicated, always dependable and conscientious employee and co-worker. He was what I would describe as a "first-one-in and last- one-out kind of guy". I can't recall a time when he actually called-in-sick ... that is, unless he was physically incapable of walking, let alone working. Once/Twice perhaps? One final note: My dad ... each morning, for years, without fail, placed a hot cup of tea on the night-stand for my mom ... before he left for work.

Our father ... and grandfather, will be laid to rest here in Colorado, beside our mother, at the foothills of the majestic Rocky Mountains, as they both waive over and blow endless kisses to our Ceire. There, they will rest together in peace, in each-other's arms ... and memories ... for eternity ... while forever cherished in our hearts, in our minds, in our souls and in our dreams.

Always and forever.

We love you Mom and Dad ... Papa and Grand Dad.