The last time I posted here, I shared a part of the work we are doing to support SJAWP’s teacher, parent, and student community during the COVID-19 pandemic, the invisible thief that ripped you away. You were so complimentary, sharing my work with your network. Making you proud always brought me joy. It could have been your brilliance, which was co-signed by your Ivy League degrees. Who wouldn’t want the vindication of such a smart man? It might’ve been because as I gained my footing as someone who is trying to make a broader impact on the profession we both love so much, you were my North Star, the one who guided me in every aspect from which jobs to accept to how to manage finances. But these were not the reasons why I longed to be found worthy of your praise. The best part of pleasing you was the gift of your smile.
From the moment I met you, you started tearing down the walls I keep around my heart to protect me from any man, but especially father figures. I remember spending our first week writing together wondering, “Why is this man so nice? Is he for real?” You were for real. Your kindness toward me never wavered under any circumstances. Not even my crass humor, sassiness, or penchant for misanthropy could make you stop caring for me. You came into my life at just the moment I needed an unconditional source of fatherly love and remained. . .
I’ve cried every time I’ve gone somewhere — well, virtually anyway — you are supposed to be, Jonathan. The heaviness of losing you has taken up residence in my chest. I’m thinking of asking our dear friends to cease using your name as an email title. My teary eyes cannot make a distinction between from Jonathan Lovell from whom I long to hear and about Jonathan Lovell who is never going to write me again. I know the healing will only come when I fully allow myself to grieve, but reaching for you and finding you absent still feels like gasping for air. I’m finding peace sheltering-in-place right now. There is no return to normal in a world that does not have you.