Jonah

February 2008
Jonah’s 18th birthday @ Cheesecake Factory

Dear Jonah,

You had four years on Aiden. With that great an age difference you might think that growing up, the two of you would have had little in common. But you lived life on your own schedule. So at the same time you viewed Aiden as your bratty little brother, you also found in him a perfect friend and playmate. Across the years, the two of you loved playing together. Whether it was crossing Jedi light sabers, constructing elaborate Lego universes, or guiding the fantastic adventures of some of the hundreds of 4-inch high action figures you owned between you, the two of you boisterously filled countless hours of your shared lives. But more often than not, these hours of fun would typically end when you would get angry, destroy the universe you’d built together, and then turn your focus on making life for Aiden as miserable as possible.

In the last years of your life, as you came to appreciate more and more just how special and wonderful a human being you were becoming, you (mostly) ceased battling your little brother. More often than not, 19-year old and 14-year were likely to greet one another with … Jonah: “Dreskin.” Aiden: “Larger Dreskin.” And with that, mom and I were able to sit back and enjoy the still-boisterous but consistently caring play between two brothers.

Oh, the occasional crossing of Jedi light sabers was still part of the equation.

Love you forever,
Dad

July 2005 at Kutz Camp
playing ukulele with Dan Nichols

My 19-year old son, Jonah Maccabee, died on March 5, 2009. As you can imagine (or worse, know firsthand), grieving for a child is a horrendous place to have to put your heart. They say that time will heal, to which I can only respond, “I hope so” … but I seriously doubt it. I expect to get better at living, but I don’t think my grief for Jonah will ever diminish. Time, of course, will tell.

The reason for this blog is not to track my grief (although I suspect that will happen). Rather, I intend to share — with anyone who would like to spend some time with Jonah — the stories and ideas that were part of his life. His was a fascinating one, and his journey was extensive. It breaks my heart that Jonah’s life has come to an end. But while he lived, he did so fully and honorably. The words found here will record and celebrate that fullness. Jonah’s time among us was far too brief. But the impact he left behind is enormous.

So here’s story #1. Jonah loved music. He adored listening to everything from Nickelback to Tchaikovsky, and playing whenever he got the chance (probably not Tchaikovsky, though who knows?) on his guitar, ukulele and mandolin. At his funeral, our good friend Dan Nichols sang Bob Marley’s “Redemption Song” because it was among the last tunes Jonah had listened to on his iPod. The title of this blog, “A Thread That Has No End,” is taken from a Led Zeppelin tune, “All My Love,” which Jonah had listened to (in his dorm room) just a few hours before he died. Ironically, Robert Plant composed “All My Love” in memory of his own son who’d died (at age 5) of a respiratory infection.

Should I fall out of love, my fire in the light
To chase a feather in the wind
Within the glow that weaves a cloak of delight
There moves a thread that has no end.

I am now feeling myself connected by “a thread that has no end” to a dad who lost his beloved son, and (through that dad’s music) to a son who shared more threads with me than I ever truly knew. For the remainder of my own years, it will be my great honor to safeguard those threads.

You’re welcome to join me along the way.

Billy