What I Remember
My sister would have called Jon "stormy-cloudy."
This was perhaps why we were friends so quickly -- he wasn't any more prone to covering his emotions than I was. It was easy enough to figure out what he was thinking and that made him seem much less complicated than the other people I was meeting.
Jon was the first best friend I had at Tech, the first person I lured into conversation with popcorn and the first person with whom I stayed up chatting for hours. He introduced me to "Donnie Darko" and Chuck Palahniuk; I helped him with his Chem 112 homework. We played sardines at the home of people neither of us had ever met; we talked religion and learned how to play Risk. Soon we were part of a pod of second floor Connolly people that ate, played, battled, and occasionally studied together.
He was the guy that carried Barb down the Harney Peak trail after she wrenched her knee, who hid out of bounds when we played games in the quad, who didn't notice when we stole all two of his left shoes. He caught my legs before I slid out the open window of a turning Le Mans ... He let me "paint" him on M-Day (maybe just a little bit against his will) and listened when things went sideways with my boyfriend at the time.
In short, he was a fantastic friend.
Not to imply things always went well. We had our drama, fights, broken relationships, things that just plain shouldn't have happened. Fights and anger and frustration -- because we were all human and we were always together.
Halfway through our sophomore year, Jon left Tech to join the military, getting married as well. For the first year we were in pretty constant contact; after that, thanks to the sudden rise in social networking sites we were in periodic but easily picked-up contact. He called me a couple times during his first tour overseas and when his kids were born. We talked when his marriage went sideways and things were at their most bleak.
But in the last few months, things seemed to improve, at least from a far-off standpoint. This guy who couldn't hide his emotions seemed more hopeful than he had before. He was making plans and he enjoyed what he was doing, both for himself and for the country.
There is no way to express what the last few days have been for any of his friends and especially for his family. As a matter of fact, right now I won't try.
Please pray for his friends and family -- his parents, his two brothers, and his three kids.
This was perhaps why we were friends so quickly -- he wasn't any more prone to covering his emotions than I was. It was easy enough to figure out what he was thinking and that made him seem much less complicated than the other people I was meeting.
Jon was the first best friend I had at Tech, the first person I lured into conversation with popcorn and the first person with whom I stayed up chatting for hours. He introduced me to "Donnie Darko" and Chuck Palahniuk; I helped him with his Chem 112 homework. We played sardines at the home of people neither of us had ever met; we talked religion and learned how to play Risk. Soon we were part of a pod of second floor Connolly people that ate, played, battled, and occasionally studied together. He was the guy that carried Barb down the Harney Peak trail after she wrenched her knee, who hid out of bounds when we played games in the quad, who didn't notice when we stole all two of his left shoes. He caught my legs before I slid out the open window of a turning Le Mans ... He let me "paint" him on M-Day (maybe just a little bit against his will) and listened when things went sideways with my boyfriend at the time.
In short, he was a fantastic friend.
Not to imply things always went well. We had our drama, fights, broken relationships, things that just plain shouldn't have happened. Fights and anger and frustration -- because we were all human and we were always together.
Halfway through our sophomore year, Jon left Tech to join the military, getting married as well. For the first year we were in pretty constant contact; after that, thanks to the sudden rise in social networking sites we were in periodic but easily picked-up contact. He called me a couple times during his first tour overseas and when his kids were born. We talked when his marriage went sideways and things were at their most bleak.
But in the last few months, things seemed to improve, at least from a far-off standpoint. This guy who couldn't hide his emotions seemed more hopeful than he had before. He was making plans and he enjoyed what he was doing, both for himself and for the country.
This past week, while on leave before returning to Afghanistan -- and just after his 26th birthday -- Jon took his own life.
There is no way to express what the last few days have been for any of his friends and especially for his family. As a matter of fact, right now I won't try.
Please pray for his friends and family -- his parents, his two brothers, and his three kids.
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