Editor’s Note: Canisius High School President James P. Higgins, S. J., died on Jan. 20, 2009, at age 54. This appreciation was written by his sister, a public librarian in Western New York.

It never occurred to me that my brother Jim would die before my mother. He died suddenly a year ago and I still hear from people almost every week about how he had reached out to them — delivering a weekly pizza to a struggling family living on the deep West Side of Buffalo, helping a boy get into Canisius High School regardless of the family’s income, staying through the night and praying at the side of a dying man.

As far back as I can remember, Jim plunged full force into everything he did, even growing an elaborate worm farm in my mother’s backyard; along with his passion for gardening, this was a form of stress relief. Even in grammar school, he was studious, becoming so intense about education that he would “hold class” for his six siblings as we sat in old wooden desks in the basement of our house on West Ferry Street. Jim’s corrections and our grades were still on the blackboard as recently as this past fall.

When Jim was 14, he began his fish-selling and maintaining career at Elmwood Pet Supplies, which started quite a legacy with my brothers. They have owned the shop for decades. Those tanks are still there and the shop is overflowing with pet paraphernalia and fish. Jim continuously inquired about the daily sales until his last days. He was determined to see that store grow and was always thrilled to hear about its success.

As an unusually mature adolescent, he directed us in both our studies and our play. In spite of his overzealous feelings about learning, he also knew how to have fun. He was an avid tennis player, a truly funny person and the biggest Supremes fan imaginable. The entire family can recite each singer’s name and the words to all their songs. When he took his vow of poverty to join the priesthood, my first thought was, “Who gets the Supremes albums?”

As Jim received numerous degrees and earned an S. J., for Society of Jesus, after his name, my parents grew prouder and prouder. My mother is convinced that he became a priest because of the private audience my parents and he had with Pope John XXIII in Rome when he was 7 years old.

The accolades Jim received never changed his humble demeanor and self-effacing remarks. He was ingeniously clever and could instantly come up with perfect nicknames, especially for his sisters’ old boyfriends. I heard fabulous stories at Jim’s wake from former students, mayors, auto mechanics, corporate presidents, newscasters, classmates, priests, refugees, cooks, legislators and strangers. His wit, hard work and sense of humor came up repeatedly while rehashing Jim’s endless, often unmentioned good deeds.

As Jim plowed through his long days at Canisius High School, he still said daily Mass, visited my mother, listened to anxious parents, attended fundraisers (hitting up anyone with more than $10 in his or her pocket) and ran back to school to write letters and personally sign each one until the pile was complete regardless of the late hour. The expansion of Canisius is largely due to his unprecedented vigor.

Jim was famous for his quick Sunday Masses. His homilies were just under four minutes and the entire Mass was often said in less than half an hour. If we showed up late, he would subtly scowl at each family member, but it was always worth it. Jim’s messages were direct and articulate. He commanded your attention.

While running a large Jesuit high school, serving on several boards and constantly serving the public, Jim always had time for our quadriplegic brother, Michael. Always. He would drop everything if Michael asked for the tiniest thing at the oddest hour. Once he was asked to run to Louie’s on Elmwood Avenue for some made-up Michael concoction and personally deliver it for his midnight snack. Not only did Jim not complain on that wicked cold December night, he laughed about it and seemed genuinely delighted to please. His love for his family was steady and quiet. He was exceptionally proud of his nieces and nephews and teased them endlessly.

St. Michael’s Church in downtown Buffalo was overflowing for Jim’s funeral, standing room only in the back foyer, the media outside hovering. He would have been dismayed and hugely embarrassed with the outrageous turnout and amazing tribute.

Most of all, though, I remember Jim as someone with deep empathy, someone who felt things deeply. His admiration and compassion for his students is unsurpassed. It’s these qualities that leave so many of us — friend and family alike—still crestfallen by his death. For the last several years, every time I saw Jim he would tell me, “You’re doing a great job, Bets, just great,” and before I could reply, he would dash off. Now that he is gone from us, I realize more fully that it was Jim who did a great job, every single day.