Marshmellow Fluff

I can’t remember the exact moment that Jason walked into my life.  When I think of how time has passed, and how many memories I have with him, seemingly he has always been a part of it. Jason passed away last week, and since then I have been sad, angry, numb, heartbroken and lost.  They say he died while driving his car on the freeway, but the story I heard is much more than that.  While driving on the freeway, Jason’s car drifted to the carpool lane, bumped into the guard rail a few times and came to a stop.  When the paramedics arrived he was unresponsive and they were unable to revive him.  J’s car didn’t hit any other cars, and seemingly he wasn’t injured in the accident. It’s almost as if he was lifted, as if he was gently taken from all of us that day.  Exactly the way our J deserved to go.  Without pain, without suffering and without harm to a soul.

My earliest memory of Jason was when he worked at an after school program at the YMCA. He ran the program by himself. The program started promptly at 3:00–Jason would get there at 4:00. My first experience with his tardiness was driving to the school after getting a call from an angry principal.  She was concerned that it was 3:30 and Jason hadn’t arrived.  When I asked if the students were unsupervised, she told me in an angry, but controlled irritated tone that only a seasoned principal could pull off, that they were.  immediately I had images of 30 students running wild and raising hell.  Instead she told me they were waiting quietly and patiently for Jason outside of the room.  By the time I arrived, I found a room filled with kids and Jason fully engaged in a conversation about responsibility and respect.  Apparently, their “locked-out behavior” was a true testament that his lessons were working.  Jason was allowed certain transgressions because, when he was there, he was undeniably amazing. The kids, many who were hard to reach, responded to him with so much respect, so much admiration and so much love.  It was undeniable that he had a gift.  And that was just the beginning of my experience with it.

Jason was at his most amazing at camp.  6 days with a cabin filled with boys, was enough time for him to transform them into a family. It was up there, 10 or so years ago that I fell in love with him.  But I was not alone in my love, each summer 200 other people fell in love with him too.  It was up at camp, during Gold Rush, that I married Jason.  Granted it was in the camp chapel, and by a questionable counselor claiming to be a minister, and granted, he also married 30 others that day.  But I looked past the glittery .25 cent rings that spilled out of his pockets and off of his fingers, because I knew that loving Jason meant sharing him with the world.  So I pledged my love and undying devotion to him and with that, we were bound together, in a lifetime of love and friendship.  Jason also tied a few of my rags.  The person who ties your rag is someone you trust, someone you can count on and someone who you feel close enough to share your true self with.  If you asked Jason to tie your rag, you knew that meant being patient during the ceremony because you were one of many that he would be tying, and it often took him some time to make it to you.  Even though Jason gave so much love out, and even though he was pulled in many different directions because of everyone’s need for him, when he was with you, he was completely with you.  When it was your turn for his time, you became the only person in his world.

I got used to having Jason in my world.  I grew used to being able to see him when I wanted, spending time with him after work, going to movies with him on the weekends.  And then, he went away to Pennsylvania for school.  We kept in touch through letters and we often talked on the phone.  He would send me care packages of random things he would find, and I would send him Twizzlers, because he swore the only store that sold Twizzlers was hours away from the college.  And he swore, that without a regular ration of Twizzlers, he would be lost.  We would talk on the phone for hours about his new friends, his new church group and how much he missed home.  And then, one morning, I turned on the television just in time to see two planes crashing into the Twin Towers.  I froze on the floor in my bedroom and watched.  And when the reporter said another plane crashed in Pennsylvania, the wind was knocked out of me.  Without thinking a moment longer, I frantically dialed Jason’s number, praying he would answer, praying he was unharmed.  When he answered I was relieved, he was surprised by my phone call because his college was hundreds of miles away from the crash site. He assured me he was fine, and then spent the next 30 minutes making fun of my terrible geography skills.

That summer after J left for college, he came home.  We decided that he would stay with me for the summer so he showed up on my doorstep with three of his college friends.  Being a sucker for taking in strays, I agreed that all four of them could stay in my small 2 bedroom apartment.  And so, for 3 months, J and I, along with his 3 college friends lived together.  Despite the chaos, and the rude awakening of how messy and smelly 4 guys are in close quarters, I loved every minute of it.  I made dinner every night, we watched movies together, we sat in the living room and talked until the early morning and I found myself wishing for one of those “endless summers” that only happen in movies.  When they guys left to return to college, my house felt much like it does when you take the tree down after Christmas.  There was a huge void left that I never realized was so big until they were gone.

After almost 2 years, Jason returned home for good.  Reluctant to return to the YMCA right away, he took on odd jobs.  My favorite of these jobs, was when he served as a parking enforcement officer for the street sweeper.  His career there was short-lived when they discovered that Jason would typically honk his horn and knock on doors to try and find the owners of mis-parked cars, and only when all other options were exhausted, would he finally leave a ticket on their windshield.  Jason wasn’t a fan of blind enforcement and told me that he was sure every unmoved car had a good reason for being there.  After a short time, Jason returned to the YMCA working with kids and with families, exactly where he was meant to be.

When I found out Jason was in kidney failure, I asked him if he wanted mine.  He joked about how he didn’t want a half-mexican kidney, and I joked that it would be the perfect “out” for never having to buy him another present.  For months he went to dialysis regularly.  I could see his light was still there, though it was dimmer.  His spirit was strong but I could tell he was tired.  Smiling and laughing, which radiated from him so easily, took effort.  But Jason never asked why, he never dwelled on what was happening to him.  When I was sad about what he was going through he reassured me that he trusted God’s plan for him completely.  While Jason battled the kidney failure, I went through the process of becoming a donor.  And when I found out I was a match, I told him and he started to cry.  He thanked me for such a gift, but told me that his best friend was also a match and he was going to take his.  He did tell me that he would gladly take mine if it didn’t work out, and I told him I wouldn’t stand for being second choice and that he was racist for not accepting my half-mexican female kidney.  But the surgery was a success, Jason’s strength was returning and I was looking forward to many years of health ahead for him.

Since Jason passed, I have struggled to hold onto him.  I went into my room and found the drawer that I keep all of my Rags in.  On my Blue Rag is a white and gold ring that Jason gave me the first time we got married up at camp.  He put it onto a safety-pin and pinned it on my Rag after I complained to him that it turned my finger green.  On my Red Rag was a piece of leather that Jason made for me in crafts.  On it, he wrote the words “God First”.  These things, which were silently cherished before, have now become the most important things in my world.  I hold them and I cry and I pray that somehow I find the strength to muddle my way through this time.  I have found strength in my camp family the group of people who I love dearly and who knew Jason’s heart and loved him as much as I did.

As I look at Jason’s life , I can’t help but think that he knew his time here had to be full.  He filled the lives of so many, and he filled them so completely that I can still feel him in the hearts of so many other people.  In my mind, I find myself saying the Ragger’s Creed over and over again, as a mantra to help me through this time.

I would be true,
for there are those who trust me;

I would be pure,
for there are those who care;

I would be strong,
for there is much to suffer;

I would be brave,
for there is much to dare;

I would be friend to all,
the foe, the friendless;

I would be giving,
and forget the gift;

I would be humble,
for I know my weakness;

I would look up,
and laugh and love and lift.

Our Jason wouldn’t want it any other way.