By Judith Kristen, AAP Columnist
He was born on a beautiful spring morning on March 21, 1970. The skies were picture perfect and a soft wind ruffled the trees and the scent of the newly formed flowers greeted him as I held him next to the open hospital window. I showed him the stunning city where he was born. “This is Heidelberg, Jon. And the whole city welcomes you. In fact, the whole world welcomes you.” Then I smiled, kissed him on his chubby little cheek, and, right then and there, I said I love you to him for the very first time.
Over the course of Jonny’s life, we exchanged those three words thousands of times.
How lucky we were to be mother and son. Jonny was always a good kid. A fun, little boy who could out ride anyone on his Big Wheel, who would stand on his head to watch television, and he was always the first to wish me a Happy Birthday, Merry Christmas, Happy Mother’s Day… you get the idea.
He loved German Chocolate Cake, sheepdogs, and tabby cats; my mother’s home-fried potatoes, and Intellivision games called Shark Shark, Pitfall, and Night Stalker. He LOVED rock and roll; I took him to his first rock concert to see KISS in 1980. Jon also totally adored a 1977 Jim Henson television special called, “Emmet Otter’s Jug-band Christmas.” He dearly loved Sea Isle City, Atlantic City, and the water rides in Wildwood. He loved to roller skate, play miniature golf, and build snow forts. He also thoroughly enjoyed going crabbing in Townsends Inlet or renting a jet ski to do donuts and then fall right off of it in the process. And he did it all with a smile on his face. The kid just always found a way to find joy somewhere.
The great thing about Jon was that part of him, that lovely, sweet little boy part of him remained throughout his life. He embraced with delight and wonder so many things that we all take for granted as we get older. He’d say to me, “Wow, the sky is beautiful today, isn’t it?” Or, “Hey, look! There are five cardinals in the dogwood tree! That’s so cool.” Or he’d walk in the house after a long day at work and say, “Man, there must be a billion stars out there tonight Mom. Come on out and see!”
Those things were but a part of what made Jon so exceptional.
Even when people let him down and hurt him… he was still kind and understanding enough to know that we’re all human and we all make mistakes and he was compassionate and forgiving. He never once closed his heart. But Jon was also a man who did not suffer fools gladly, and there were a few people who crossed that hurt and disappointment line one too many times. In his heart he wished them well, but he knew he had to turn a page and move forward without them. We all know what that’s like.
I think he’s probably in Heaven, reading this as I type and wondering, “Okay… where’s the bad stuff?” In truth, the worst of Jon was that his office and bedroom always looked like a pipe bomb went off in it. I never knew how he could find anything in either room – but he did. But again… two messy rooms are better than one messy life. And Jon’s life was pretty darn good.
After he graduated Frankford High School in 1988, he worked odd jobs here and there until he got one he truly loved over at The Post Office at 30th St. in Philadelphia. Eventually, Jon transferred to Bellmawr, where he worked until just a few days before his passing. He loved it there. He loved the people he worked with and made wonderful friends.
Jonny never married, although he was smitten a few times. He never had a child of his own, but he helped raise his niece, Krissy, for the first 10 years of her life. They adored each other. He was more than just her “Uncle Jon;” he was a brother, a loving and devoted father figure, and a very, very, dear friend. Again, that was Jonny all over. He had a heart the size of Texas.
He was also the happiest I ever saw him when Andrew and I got married. He hugged me so tight he almost knocked the breath right out of me. Jon admired Andrew for so many things, but best of all was Andrew’s love and devotion to me. “I’m happy because you’re so happy, Mom. He’s a really, really, great guy.” I’ll never forget that, or the big smile on his face that came along with it.
Over the years, my son and I shared so many laughs – to the point of tears – and we shared grief, loss, and sorrow, again to the point of tears.
In 2010, he moved back home with us to save for his dream car, a 10-day vacation in Disney World, and three-week dream vacation to Europe, and he did it all. His trip back to Karlsruhe, Germany was back to his childhood home, the first home he ever knew. It was made even more special by Adam Junker, our dear friend since the day Jon was born.
Jonny also got to see his beloved Krissy marry on April 16, 2013; and the following year held his great-niece in his arms – Krissy’s beautiful little girl, Lily. Kris was the light in Jon’s life.
Jonny was a citizen of the world in his heart and by travel experiences. He was born in Germany and spent seven years of his life there. But he was also a Philly guy, and when he was 20 years old, we moved to New Jersey and he spent the last 25 years of his life here. He loved it. And he made so many friends, He loved Pennsauken and Merchantville. He was a regular at The Merchantville Diner and The Penn Queen for years. He made friends with all of the lovely people at Aunt Charlotte’s, Rite-Aid, Wirth’s Florist, McFarland’s Market, Adobos, and all over the shops in Meadowbrook. He went to animal rescue events with me, visited schools with me (here and in England) to help teach the children about humane education. And he dearly loved his cat, Lucky, who equally adored Jon.
This June, Jon had already settled on plans to start a new part of his life. Me and Andrew and a few other friends, Bobbie Bechtel, Pat Mehaffey, and Andie Friedman, promised we’d throw him a big “Welcome to my new digs” party as soon as he got settled in. He was genuinely looking forward to it.
On the day of his aneurysm on Sunday, May 17, he was readying to go to The Mutt Strut Animal rescue event in Merchantville, hoping to help all of those animals up for adoption to find happy forever homes. Jon was a true animal lover through and through. Appropriately enough, his nickname was “Big Dog.”
The last night of his life, Jon was in excellent spirits, hopeful for a positive outcome, and with good reason to be, according to his tests, scans, and doctors. He was even joking with the nurse that evening. She teased him that I had brought him some homemade food and said to him, “You mean hospital food isn’t good enough for you?” He said flat out, “No. My Mom’s the best cook who ever was. So, I’m a Mommy’s Boy, but for a lot of good reasons.” That made me smile.
Then for some odd reason, he turned to me and looked me right in the eyes and recited part of a book to me I bought for my Krissy when she was just a baby. It’s called, “Love You Forever” by Robert Munsch and Sheila McGraw. The part Jon said to me was, “I’ll love you forever, I’ll love you for always, as long as I’m living, your baby I’ll be.”
Jon had just turned 45 in March and was surely no baby, but to a mother, I guess… they’re always our kids and sweet babies in one way or another. And that Jon remembered that lovely passage was so very, very touching to me.
Little did I know that when I heard him say it… that it was to be the first and the last time.
Then came May 20, 2015. His last day.
How fitting that he was gifted with a day just like his first day on our precious planet … a beautiful spring morning with skies picture perfect and a soft wind that ruffled the trees and the scent of the newly formed flowers there to greet him on his way to Heaven. Somebody obviously likes him up there too.
As for down here? My sweet, precious Jonny… you were indeed the nicest and dearest son a Mom could ask for. You had my back when others weren’t brave enough or had heart enough, and you filled my life with joy in more ways than I even came close to deserving.
And, before I forget… if there is such a thing as reincarnation, please tell God that I’ll be happy to sign up to be your Mom all over again. But next time… just for a whole lot longer, okay?
I’ll love you forever, I’ll love you for always, as long as I’m living, my baby you’ll be.”
Until we meet again…
Love,
Mom
