John Antony Miller

John Antony Miller, 78, passed away peacefully at home, surrounded by his family and his beloved wife of 54 years, Ellie. Born and raised in Liverpool, England, to Muriel Lamb and Edwin Miller, John’s life was shaped by intellect, creativity, and a deep compassion he often attributed to growing up alongside his three sisters—Wendy, Ruth, and Alison. From a young age, he was captivated by music. One of his earliest joys came when his father brought home a violin for ten shillings, a moment John later described as life-changing. He taught himself violin and guitar and became Concert Master in school. But the moment that truly transformed him came during a classroom listening session when Sibelius’ Second Symphony filled the room. He later said it was his first true “ah-ha” moment: the instant he realized how powerful and transcendent music could be. As a teenager, he taught himself piano, playing early R&B and even forming a small pop group with friends during The Beatles era. He, his sister Ruth, and his friends would sneak out to see The Beatles at the Cavern Club, a memory he cherished for the excitement and energy of those early days. At Exeter University, he threw himself into folk guitar, practicing until his fingers were nearly worn through and eventually helping run the university’s folk club, where music became both a passion and a community. Alongside music, John developed a deep love for mathematics and physics, subjects he said he “never recovered from.” He was endlessly fascinated by how the universe worked and loved the way those disciplines revealed order and meaning in the world around him. After earning his degree from Exeter University, he initially hoped to become a social worker, but after a series of grueling interviews, he was told he was “too sensitive”—a comment that hurt at the time but would later feel like an affirmation of his deepest strengths. Unsure of his next step, he returned briefly to packing soap at Unilever, a job he often described as “soul-destroying,” until a small job posting changed the entire trajectory of his life. With no background in computers, he applied to be a computer operator and soon found himself standing in front of an IBM 360 mainframe. Within months, he had taught himself IBM assembly language and moved into systems programming. What began as an unexpected opportunity grew into a 50-year career in computer science—work he often described simply as “playing all day.” John found his greatest joy when he met Ellie, the love of his life. He adored her completely. Their marriage was a true partnership—steady, kind, and full of devotion. Everyone who knew them could see how deeply he loved her. She was always at the center of his world, the person he cherished above all else. For more than fifty years, he sang to her, from lullabies at night to love songs at their 50th wedding anniversary celebration. To watch them together was to see love in its purest form. Their love became the unshakable foundation of the family they built together, an example that will guide their family for generations to come. Music was woven through every part of John’s life. He played the piano and guitar for his family, and his music didn’t just fill their home, it became their home. Every note carried warmth and tenderness, wrapping them in the sound of who he was. His tastes were wide-ranging and full of heart: from classical symphonies, opera, and ballet to folk, pop, and musical theater. He found beauty in every kind of song, and sharing that beauty became a lasting part of his legacy. Some of the most treasured memories his children hold are of him playing for them—quiet moments at the piano, the gentle rhythms of his guitar, the songs he loved and the ones he made his own. He also loved playing in the Christmas bell choir, delighted by the simple joy of creating something beautiful with others. For John, music was never just a hobby; it was a gift he gave freely, a language of love that will echo in his family’s hearts forever. That same creativity found another outlet in his writing. John was creative in every sense of the word, and writing became another way he explored the things he loved most: faith, heritage, goodness, and the wonder of the universe. He wrote four novels, including the Shaylae Trilogy (Shaylae of the Gentle Heart, Hauron of the Eleven, and The Seed of Gadianton), a story that blended Navajo culture, science, spirituality, and the fight between light and darkness. He also authored Elita, a deeply personal novel inspired by Ellie. Though the story takes place in Northern Ireland, the heart of the character came from Ellie–her goodness, her strength, and her instinct to choose compassion even when life presents impossible choices. Whether he was writing about distant planets, ancient holy ones, or a young girl discovering her own bravery, John wrote with his whole heart. Faith also meant a great deal to John. As a devoted member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, his testimony became a steady anchor throughout his life. He was raised Methodist, listening to his father preach and kneeling beside his grandmother as she offered long, heartfelt prayers that left a lasting impression on him. His understanding of faith evolved throughout his life, shaped by conversations with family, by sacred music, by thoughtful reflection, and especially by Ellie’s quiet, constant example. John valued both science and belief, seeing no contradiction between the two. He found meaning in the complexity of the natural world, the order of creation, and the way music could move the soul. His favorite calling was serving as the Primary chorister, where his love of music and his quiet warmth came together naturally. John’s reflective nature also shaped the way he and Ellie explored the world. From the early years of their marriage as they moved from England to Canada, then to New Jersey, and eventually to Utah, they often felt the weight of being far from extended family, but they faced each new place together and relied on one another. Wherever they lived, they sought out new places to explore together. After moving to Utah, they quickly realized how beautiful it was and bought a small tent trailer so they could see more of the state. As the years went on and their family grew, they upgraded to a larger trailer and began taking their grandchildren on camping trips as well. They loved packing a simple lunch and driving into the mountains, often stopping beside a river to read and talk. They spent years exploring Utah’s beauty, driving scenic backroads, visiting national parks, and seeking out peaceful places to enjoy the view. They also traveled widely, returning to England and Canada to see family and spending long visits in Hawaii, Spain, and San Diego to visit their children and grandchildren there. For John and Ellie, travel was always about being together and sharing the experience with the people they loved. For all the places John loved to see, home was always his favorite place to be. He loved watching his big family gathered together—the laughter, the energy, the joy of it all. He often grew emotional seeing how much love there was between his children. He was so proud that they not only loved one another but were truly friends. His grandchildren were the light of his life, and he cherished every moment spent with them. His family was his greatest joy and the legacy he was most proud of. In the face of a long battle with cancer and a rapidly progressing Parkinsonism, John’s humor, gratitude, and love for his family never wavered. When he learned of his diagnosis, he reassured his children with characteristic grace, reminding them that life was still good and that love was what mattered most. He urged them to cherish their differences, remain united, and love one another “as God loves us all—unconditionally, come what may.” With quiet faith and a twinkle of humor, he promised that in the eternities, he and Ellie would “come to get” their family—every one of them! It was both comfort and conviction, a reflection of the enduring love that defined his life. John believed deeply in kindness. “Be kind to others,” he often said. “Remember that everyone is carrying a burden.” He was thoughtful and humble, a man who left the world a little better through the gentleness he carried. The family wishes to express heartfelt gratitude to the hospice nurses whose gentle, attentive care brought comfort and peace to John in his final weeks, allowing him to remain at home and at ease. They also offer sincere thanks to the oncologists and caregivers at the Huntsman Cancer Institute, whose skill and unwavering dedication supported him for more than a decade. Their efforts extended his life far beyond early expectations and gave his family years of precious time together. He is survived by his wife and best friend, Ellie Miller; his nine children: Sally Cannon (Thomas), Timothy Miller (Angela), Emma Terry-Miller (Tanya), Alison Caputo (Daniel), Jeremy Miller (Autumn), Mary Taylor (Zachary), Nicholas Miller (Brooke), Hannah Richins (Landon), and Joseph Miller (Lorena); his sisters Wendy Moorin, Ruth Bacon, and Alison Lewis; along with twenty-six grandchildren: Savannah (Dallin), Sydney (Caden), Zachary, Summer, Chelsea, Zoey, Atlie, Macie, Elliott, Sahalie, Bodhi, Saylor, Michael, Eowyn, Layla, Avery, Landon, Jolene, Katelyn, John, Evelyn, Jude, Charlie, Theodore, Ivy, and James; and four great-grandchildren: Sophie, Liliani, Mele, and Luke, who all adored their Pops. John’s life was a beautiful symphony of love, faith, and family—a legacy that will echo through generations. “In my life, I love you more.” Funeral services will be held at 11 a.m. on November 22 at 1407 E Sheps Ridge Rd, Eagle Mountain, UT 84005. For those who cannot attend in person, a livestream will be provided and the link will be shared as soon as it is available. In lieu of flowers, donations may be made to the Huntsman Cancer Institute or to Parkinson’s research in John’s honor. Huntsman Cancer Institute link - https://give.huntsmancancer.org/page/89079/donate/1?locale=en-US Parkinson's Research link - https://give.michaeljfox.org/

John Antony Miller

June 1, 1974 - November 5, 2025