"This music is my life," my friend Jonathan would sometimes say while bouncing to the beat of a particularly great song.
Five years ago today, one of my best friends was killed in an avalanche. I miss him, I miss hearing his stories, I miss trying to figure out if I could join him at an eddie from ohio concert when the group visited the Bay Area.
I miss him.
I went back this morning and reread the remarks I made at his memorial service. I remember sitting with my laptop the day before and staring at the terror of the blank screen. A few of our friends came by to talk, and through their remembrances (and some e-mails from those who were unable to make the trip to Cincinnati) words, laughter, and tears began to flow.
During this past year, Jonathan traveled frequently. He drove around the country. It was his Freedom Tour. Down to Los Angeles, across the south to Texas, Alabama, Florida, South Carolina, Washington, D.C., New Jersey, New York, Connecticut, Boston, Cleveland, Seattle, and points in between.
Jonathan had fun. He revisited places where his family had vacationed earlier in his life. He met with family and friends. He learned more. He thought—both amusing and serious ideas. He was always aware. He was always doing stuff. He did not settle.
Jonathan’s father last night told a few of us about how remarkable it was that so many people, from so many different social circles, consider Jonathan one of their best friends.
I think so many people feel that way about Jonathan because he tried to live a life that mattered to other people. He cared for and took an interest in those around him.
In the end, there is no higher compliment. Jonathan, I still adore you and miss you. That will never change.
Update: My wife Kari also has some thoughts today about our friend Jonathan.