Finding Momentum

Jon Kang…

I don’t have many words. I don’t know if I could have words. I wish I had them. It’s always about hav­ing words.

You were kind of an awk­ward guy, but you didn’t let that stop you killer sense of humor.

[out of the blue]
Azn00coW: you have the flamethrow­ers that shoot choco­late hun­dred dol­lar bills?
gsg­ninE: i do have the sheep that can eat gourmet broc­coli heads
gsg­ninE: hahaha keep it going
Azn00coW: you have the go kart that turns into a stretch limo with plasma screens
gsg­ninE: i do have the ford aspire with the ten-inch spoke rims, faux sheep­skin back seat and dan­gling smi­ley face doll from the front mir­ror
Azn00coW: do you have the fil­ing cab­i­net that has a cup holder big enogh for the 10 gal­lon slushies
gsg­ninE: i do have the card­board box that dou­bles for a time machine on those slow days
gsg­ninE: ahha­haha nice=)
gsg­ninE: dang jon.. con­vos with you are always fun
Azn00coW: i told you
Azn00coW: its all the time spent on inter­net
Azn00coW: and thats where i got the shoes that dig for diamonds

Yeah, I’ll admit it. We weren’t too close of friends. We’d kick it in Molino’s Span­ish 3 class and make jokes about the old guy. Is that how I met you? We kept up the zany IM convos.

We found out you had leukemia, the clos­ing months of your senior year. I’d moved onto UC Berke­ley by then. Oh my God. You stayed home for the next seven months to receive treatments.

I watched a com­mu­nity of peo­ple gather around you and sup­port you. I could see that they loved you.

You asked me to hang out over win­ter break. You asked me to come over and bake some frozen piz­zas. Haha, so I came over with some 10 dol­lar Boboli and more than a lit­tle ten­ta­tive­ness for what the year I’d been at col­lege had done; not see­ing you since you found out about your condition.

And it wasn’t awk­ward at all. Your par­ents were at home, milling about and ami­ably mak­ing con­ver­sa­tion with me (a com­plete stranger to them). You fin­ished up your Star­craft game, we went to the liv­ing room and chilled watch­ing Myth­Busters on Dis­cov­ery Chan­nel and play­ing some Duck Hunt.

You didn’t make much con­ver­sa­tion. But maybe that was okay.

Jon.. did you know I set one of those alerts for you on AIM that let you know when a buddy signed on? I always meant to talk to you more. I regret I always told myself I’d do it later.

I went to your Mar­row Reg­is­tra­tion drive, last week. It was the least I could do. Every­body was there Jon. I wished you were and I could have exchanged a few words with you.

Then yes­ter­day Dorothy told me the news.

“Oh my God. Oh my God.”

This was the last photo you took. It’s fitting.

I have no words. Oh, my God.