Sunday, April 16, 2006


Jonathan’s funeral took place at a church in his hometown of Hollis. If it hadn’t been for such a tragic purpose, I would have enjoyed my stop in this idyllic New Hampshire location. Fittingly for a celebration of someone who possessed an invincibly sunny disposition, April 15th was the perfect spring day with new blooms swaying gently in the warm breeze as waves rolled through the vivid green grass.

When I arrived at the church only moments before the service was due to begin, I saw that the quaint, quasi-rural streets surrounding it were completely filled with long queues of cars. I heard later that nobody has ever seen such a populous event at that church. Someone else estimated that there were about 600 people there; after the main room had been occupied, people filed into the adjacent room – and when that had reached capacity, they poured down to two rooms in the basement, and eventually, a few groups formed outside. It didn’t surprise me. That’s just the kind of guy Jonathan was. He had a way of making you feel special, every time you saw him. Mourners arrived in droves, from Seattle to Scotland to Senegal, and everyone was saying the same thing: It wasn’t an option; I had to be here.

I wondered how many people would show up to my funeral. (...20?) It got me thinking about the people I would really hope would come.

It was a nice service. There were a few hilarious stories about Jonathan as told by friends and family. At one point, friends were called on to say a few words if they were so inclined. I loved Jonathan and would have liked to honor him but something told me it would be a catastrophe if I tried. I don’t know how people do it.

I was counting on getting some sort of closure by going to the funeral but I’m seeing now that it doesn’t work that way. This is only the beginning of the rest of my life without a special friend.


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