Jason

I will never forget the last time I was alone with Jason. It was the late afternoon of Tuesday, September 9th, 2008. The weather was fair. The skies were gray. The sun was trying to peak out one last time before it headed West. The temperature was more typical of Fall rather than late Summer. A light jacket was necessary.

I walked into his room, and he was standing at the foot of his bed, holding a Playstation 3 controller and staring at the TV. His complexion, like his hair, was as white and sterile-looking as the walls around him and the floor beneath. He looked at me and tried to speak but couldn’t. He gasped for air as he turned off his game and went back to the main screen. He looked like a ghost of himself.

Jason tried so hard to speak but barely got out a whisper. He said “listen to this” then pressed a button on his controller. A familiar song began.

“And I’d give up forever to touch you
‘Cause I know that you feel me somehow
You’re the closest to Heaven that I’ll ever be
And I don’t wanna go home right now

And all I can taste is this moment
And all I can breathe is your life
And sooner or later, it’s over
I just don’t wanna miss you tonight

And I don’t want the world to see me
‘Cause I don’t think that they’d understand
When everything’s made to be broken
I just want you to know who I am”

As soon as I heard the music, I knew what it was: “Iris” by the Goo Goo Dolls. I was overcome with goosebumps as I listened for a message in a song I’d heard a million times. My mind raced as I tried to figure out what Jason was trying to tell me. It wasn’t a new song he just wanted me to listen to. It had been out for 10 years. It wasn’t simple or funny or ragey or anything obvious. It was rather complex. He kept replaying this.

“And I don’t want the world to see me
‘Cause I don’t think that they’d understand
When everything’s made to be broken
I just want you to know who I am”

I tried to decipher the words, listening intently while looking at his face, hoping to get what he was trying to tell me. I was scared that he knew something I didn’t. I was perplexed by the message. Was he trying to tell me he didn’t want the world to see him like this? Was he trying to tell me no one really knew him? Was he trying to say he’s broken? Was he trying to tell me no one understood? Why this song? Why me? Why now? Why were these particular words so important that they were to speak for him when he no longer could?

I never knew it would be the last time we spent together alone. I never knew those would be his last words to me. It haunts me to this day as I still feel confused about what he was trying to tell me.

I saw him only one more time after that: Thursday evening of that same week. He was in a much bigger room, surrounded by light and loved ones. He could no longer speak. He could barely move. The only thing with color in the room were his bright blue eyes which surveyed the scene every time someone entered. His eyes were his mouth now. And his ears. And his hands. And arms. And legs. It was all he had. It was enough.

I never knew that would be the last time I saw him. I thought he would bounce back–the way he always did. Because he always had his way with Leukemia. He always won. Until he didn’t.

Upon leaving that night, I said to him, “I love you. I’ll see you later.” Only I didn’t think it would be as long. I didn’t think it’d be in Heaven. He passed early that Saturday morning.

I was thankful for my last words but saddened by them, too. And every time that song comes on, I think of his bright blue eyes and the final moments we shared. And I smile because I know it’s not forever. “And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes; there shall be no more death, nor sorrow, nor crying. There shall be no more pain, for the former things have passed away.” (Revelation 21:4)