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March 08, 2006

Jonathan

Whenever a U2 song comes on the radio, or through my iPod, I think of Jonathan. I remember the concert in November 2001 when four of us friends were dancing, smiling, and passing plastic cups of beer to the music.

Four years ago today, Jonathan was killed by an avalanche.

Although the concert technically wasn’t the last time I saw him before he died, it feels that way. The last time I saw him was actually Superbowl 2002. We had a get together in honor of the game, and Jonathan was one of the friends piling into our tiny condo. Unfortunately, one of my clients had some urgent work, so I ended up working on the computer while everyone else watched the game. I have not made that same mistake again.

Husband and I had been taking cooking classes. The night we received the call about Jonathan, I had just finished making a dinner soufflé and was nearly done with the chocolate soufflé we’d have for dessert. I had made crème anglaise and was slowly stirring it on the stove. I imagine the Cat was already in bed.

Husband took the call. I didn’t know what was going on until he cupped his hand over the mouthpiece and quickly relayed the news. He went into the back bedroom.

I continued cooking, and after what seemed like a long time, I went back to the bedroom. I whine-babbled, “This is just so wrong and bizarre. I know I didn’t know Jonathan well, but…” and then I saw Husband was still on the phone. I quickly shut up and shut the door to the bedroom, embarrassed that I had interrupted Husband. He had been crumpled on the floor by the bed.

I ate my soufflés. I kept a portion out for Husband, but after awhile, figured he wasn’t going to eat it. I cleaned the kitchen and turned on the news. We knew there would be something on the news.

Sure enough, there was a report on “a bunch of snowboarders who went out of bounds and caused an avalanche.” They made it seem like a bunch of punk-kids were breakin’ all the rules. In truth, Jonathan was a skier. Not that it is a huge deal, but the snowboarding image is definitely different than the skier image. And according to the friends who were with him when the avalanche occurred, they had stepped out of bounds to look at a sunrise, not in an attempt to ski an uncharted trail. It was clear that the news report was meant to outline an irresponsible accident. Ski in bounds and you’ll be safe!

About six months ago, a Boy Scout troop suffered two fatalities when lightening stuck. I remember being angry at a reporter as she hounded a nature expert. The reporter kept trying to get the expert to say that the Scouts could have done something differently to prevent the tragedy. But in their case, there was absolutely nothing that they “should” have done. They had dispersed properly and stood in the proper positions. They had been responsible. Finally, the expert said that if they had happened to go to some other plane of ground, it would have worked better. The reporter latched on to that, saying, “The troop failed to go to a higher (or lower?) plane of ground.” Always looking for an excuse for tragedy. If you are safe, you will live forever.

The day after Jonathan died, we went to my cousin’s one year old’s birthday party. Husband went along, although I am sure he would have wanted to stay in bed all day. Jonathan and Husband had been very close.

My cousin had beer out for the adults. By the time the party ended, Husband had imbibed several. He moved downstairs to the game room for the hard liquor. He and my cousin’s husband did shots while Husband kept repeating over and over again that he simply couldn’t believe it. They determined that Jonathan was the type of guy who wouldn’t have wanted to be in a nursing home at a ripe elderly age. He would have wanted to go out in a risky way. An avalanche was certainly a dramatic way to go.

Husband kept muttering the rest of the day, “I got drunk at a one year old’s birthday party! I got drunk at a one year old’s birthday party!”

It was amusing, though sad of course. But it was an entirely appropriate way to celebrate Jonathan and mourn his loss.

It was Husband’s first real experience with death and I had no way of comforting him. Jonathan had been living in San Francisco, while his family was all on the east coast. The next week, they all flew out to deal with his affairs. His brother, sister-in-law, and sister stayed in our three room, 1 bathroom condo. His parents stayed at a family friend’s house. His father and brother are attorneys. My father, who is an attorney in California, met with them to discuss the CA probate.

For that week, I played hostess to those people staying with us, plus an assortment of Jonathan’s friends who came to see his family. His brother and sister are both in the same co-ed Society that Husband and I are in. In the mornings, I laid out piles of bath towels and breakfast items. Then everyone would leave to pack up Jonathan’s apartment, or to meet with my father about legal issues. In the evening, I tried out my Cooking School recipes on the crowd that had gathered.

It was a strange situation to be so close to the grieving family, and yet not really be a part of it. I knew Jonathan, but not well. That week, I saw firsthand the different ways people can grieve. His sister talked about him, bringing up happy memories. His brother wanted to play Strato-Hockey and was intent on finding a Strato-Baseball game at a toy store. His father was silent. His mother wept. His friends either wanted to join the Strato-Baseball game or join in the recollection of memories. His sister, sister-in-law, a friend and I all watched the series premiere of The Bachelor and used it as fodder for irrelevant conversation.

What really grasped my heart was watching Jonathan’s mother. She curled up on our couch and watched the then one-year old Cat. She sometimes held my son, carefully stroking his head. She sighed as we put on Sesame Street and the Cat would clap happily. I knew she was recalling memories of her baby son. I knew she was in deep pain.

Since the Cat was only a year old, I was still fresh with the knowledge of vulnerability that comes with being a new mother. I was still overprotective of him and acutely aware of how much he meant to me. I knew that the worst thing that can happen to a mother is to lose her child. And now I was witnessing that firsthand. It was horrible.

Of course, quite a lot has happened in the four years since. Jonathan’s sister got married, and now has a son named Jonathan. We are no longer in that small condo that held those memories. The Bachelor has had several seasons.

But, every time I hear U2, I remember Jonathan. I remember his smile and enthusiasm for life.

It’s a beautiful day! Don’t let it slip away…

Posted by karianna at March 8, 2006 11:50 AM

Comments

Posted by: Mary at March 8, 2006 06:19 PM

Posted by: Julie at March 9, 2006 09:14 PM