It’s been said that life is what happens while you’re making other plans.  Never in my wildest nightmares would I have ever thought that I would be memorializing my 29-year-old son. My grief as a mother at the loss of my only son is appeased only in the knowledge that God loves him more than I ever could because God’s love is perfect.

 If there’s one thing to be said about Jonathan, it’s that he had-for lack of a better term-an eclectic group of friends and acquaintances to which you ALL are now a part. Even as a young child growing up in France, whenever we would go out it wouldn’t be very long before we we’d run into someone he knew. I would always be curious as to how he knew them. “Oh that’s my friend so-and-so.” Jonathan called everyone his friend.  Whether from a previous school, the community center, a summer camp, music class, or any number of other places, Jonathan made lots of friends –which for me was both a blessing and a concern. After we came back from France, I remember picking him up from Brethren Jr. High.  He would be waving from the car to his friends-the ones serving detention, picking up trash in the front of the school- as we pulled out of the parking lot. (Every mother’s dream.) As he grew older, I began to worry about his so-called “friends” and even referred to some of them as low-lifes (for which I apologize because some of you are here today!) I really do want to thank ALL of you for being truly caring friends- spending hours with him, scratching where he itched, buying him everything from GIANT Icee-pops at 7/11 because the box of 100 Otter Pops wasn’t good enough, to making a special trip to Wendy’s and Jack-In-The-Box, planning his benefit, taking him to get a handicap parking placard-because Lord knows you couldn’t say no to Jonathan, or calling just to tell me you’re thinking of him. Jonathan loved you dearly.

Anyone who spent any time with Jonathan knew him as a carefree, philosophical spirit. He had a way of raising my stress-level, but him worry—never. It had gotten to the point that I suggested we go to family counseling. Jonathan’s carefree response, “If you think you need it, go ahead; I don’t need to go; I’m fine.” -which stressed me out even more because in my mind, of course, I wasn’t the one with the problem! His father and I would have long conversations with him about conspiracy theories and his ideas about God. Never able to reach a consensus, we’d end up where we’d started hours earlier, but that didn’t seem to matter to him. Still unemployed, several months after his graduation from CSULB-living the life as Mario mentioned that others only dreamed of- we encouraged him to find work. He’d read job postings and remark, “I don’t want a soul sucking job.” His emphatic response had me questioning Chris later on that evening, “Hey, do you think we have soul sucking jobs?” His stress-free personality was enviable He had very definite ideas about certain things and could be difficult to live with at times, but when all was said and done, Jonathan had a way with people that endeared and captivated them. If you ever did get mad at him you couldn’t stay that way for very long. His spirited eyes and winsome smile were trademark, Jonathan, and got him off the hook on too many occasions. They didn’t however; seem to work with all of his traffic violations!

 Jonathan would always ask what I wanted for Christmas and the answer would be the same, “Children who love God and each other.” “No, but what do you really want? How about a toaster, or espresso machine.”  Little did I realize that Jonathan would eventually give me the Christmas gift I had always asked for. It’s just that I never expected it to be packaged in a rare liver cancer and wrapped with a bow of sorrow.

Jonathan was my hero. He courageously fought his disease until his body could no longer sustain his life.  In the memories his friends continue to share with us, someone inevitably mentions having to call Jonathan when he didn’t show up at the appointed time. His predictable response was always, “I’m on my way,” which we all knew was Jonathan’s way of saying, “I was JUST thinking about getting up. I’m stepping out of the shower, or I’m finishing up my last bowl of cereal.”  It didn’t take long before we started asking him what freeway he was on or what exit he was passing. To make things even simpler, we all agreed to tell Jonathan everything began 2 hours before the actually time, but even that didn’t work.

As late as that evening, Jonathan told his father that he didn’t think he was going to die. Jacqueline called out to us later that night as Jonathan collapsed on his bed. God graciously allowed us to hold him in our arms as his spirit departed for heaven. In that moment, I envisioned Jonathan’s predictable voice, “I’m on my way” and God’s response to him,  “No my son, you’re here.” The Bible is clear that to be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord.”

Jonathan has taught me that faith embraces life’s uncertainties with open arms, expecting God to sustain with grace and strength and peace. He taught me to see the good in everyone, and he especially taught me to stop stressing about things that in the end don’t really matter. My father had a bumper sticker-“Life is short-eat dessert first.” Somehow Jonathan knew that.