Barely over a month after learning about our friend Jon Wight’s aggressive, rare abdomen cancer, he has passed away.  Hours before a giant benefit for him was taking place in Moscow, Idaho, on the same day as a psychotic murder spree in that old quiet town of ours.  If I was a believer in God, I’d say he was on vacation this past Saturday.

I started to post last night, but found myself so full of fear and emotion, I abandoned the whole idea.  But today, I feel clearer in the head.  I dreamt of Jon last night, singing on the deck of the manor, dangling his dirty feet and smiling his crooked smile.  Instead of making me sad, it made me feel strength.  There are so many people that loved him, and he really will live on forever in those rich memories.

Writing in memoriam can be tricky, because my pain from losing Jon is an amalgamation of every emotion Jon has ever made me feel paired with intense empathy.  I imagine losing those who shape my life every day, and how frightening it is to face every primal instinct we have in order to survive such a loss.  We go back to basics, we rebuild and relearn how to wake up every day.  And there aren’t enough words in every language’s lexicon to really honor a person like Jon.

So instead, I’m healing by remembering every lesson I ever learned from him.  Kindness and courage.  He was the best of us, and he left a lot of love in his wake.



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