September 25, 2006
Jordan called me recently while I was in California. He was very excited about a particular day he spent volunteering at the nursing home. Please allow me to paraphrase our conversation: “The daughter of a resident called me,” he began, “she and her mother were disheartened, because the daughter lived far away, and the mother could not see her grandchildren. I set up an email account for her in the home, and helped her check updated pictures of her grandkids. This changed her mother’s life, and gave her so much hope that the daughter could not thank me enough.”
That is one of many examples of Jordan’s generosity. Jordan was also responsible for the creation of several websites. They are forums for people to express themselves. Every time someone posts a message, Jordan receives a copy of it in his email. There are currently over 6,000 messages for one site alone. That represents thousands of people, whom Jordan provided with a platform for speaking out. One day I will be at a party and a stranger will say, “Did you ever hear of Insey.com?” I’ll say, “Yeah, that’s my brother.”
This is the Jordan I know and grew up with. The one my mother and I called “Boo” because when he was very young he would hide, and we would ask, “Where’s Jordan?” And he would pop out from behind a wall and go “Boo!” As he got older, of course, he stopped that, but we now called him “The Boo man”.
Besides the pretend frights and the laughs, Jordan gave me many gifts over the years. The one I will cherish the most is the scar I carry from when I pissed him off, and he stabbed me with a freshly sharpened pencil many years ago. I tormented Jordan, because it was my right as his older brother. Now I see it was my privilege. I pinched his chubby leg when he was a toddler. He didn’t cry. He just turned around and wondered where the pain was coming from. I slapped him on his diaper a lot. I let him crawl into the closet one time with the intention of locking it. And of course, every bad thing I did wasn’t me, “It was Jordan!”
Jordan and I were inseparable, and we fueled each other’s creativity. We built big houses together out of construction paper, and shipping tape, and every other material available at the arts and crafts store. Most kids played Ghostbusters or Ninja Turtles, but Jordan and I used our toys to populate an entire community in the basement. Peter Venkman from Ghostbusters was a hard worn cop who came home every night to his wife April from Ninja Turtles. He arrested the Joker when he robbed the Credit Union, and took him to jail to await his bail hearing. We were seven and ten years old. Jordan was always a willing volunteer to act in my movies, and I had every intention of putting him in more. Just because he is not physically here, he was and always will be a part of everything I do.
One of the tough questions I must now answer is, “How many brothers and sisters do you have?” I know my parents will be asked about their children as well. The problem is there is no word for a parent who loses a child. And if there was, no one would speak it, because it would be too horrible to utter. Despite this sentiment, parents have not stopped trying to come up with a word. “Failure” is a popular one, but that does not apply in this case. There was not a cry that Jordan uttered that was not answered, even now. You can only give a person tools, which Jordan had plenty, but you cannot force a person to implement them, even a smart man like Jordan.
You will hear many examples of how smart Jordan is. He thought faster than he could possibly write, so he typed everything. He was once clocked at a typing speed of 120 WPM. And please allow me to add this to the mix: A quote from a recent autobiography he was asked to write:
In addition to being a full time student. I also work full time as a Level 2 Technician at NetCarrier Telecom in Lansdale. My primary job function is to troubleshoot and diagnose voice and data circuits, which include ISDN lines, CAS & analog T-1s, Point-to-Point circuits, and VoIP circuits. I am also in charge of doing daily DLT backups of the UNIX servers in our secure collocation facility.
Between my extensive knowledge in computer technology and my formal education in the criminal justice system, I hope to procure a career in law enforcement specializing in Internet crimes that include child pornography, online harassment, industrial espionage, extortion, and cyber-terrorism.
Jordan did not live long enough to practice his chosen profession. However, with his passing, he is now a teacher. Jordan was a sponge who soaked up and internalized everything, knowledge and feelings, but did not know how to wring himself out. Learn from that. And despite how shy he was, he loved a party because it was his chance to be outgoing in an encouraging environment. He was as complex as he was beautiful. If the death of one person can make everyone twice as strong, then it is a testament to the brightness of that life, regardless of how soon it went out.
Even in my grief, I realize how easy it would be for family and friends to avoid us. For people to distance themselves from the center of a tragedy they fear they are unable to handle. I am proud to say that this is not the case. All of you have been strong and embraced us when we need you the most: The food, the cleaning, the phone calls, the pats on the back, the winks, the smiles, and the hugs. Without you, our immediate family would have been lost in a sea of grief, paddling sorrowfully in a rickety boat that would not move. We will never stop thanking you for your guidance and support.
But there is one favor I want you to do for me right now. If your children are present, please turn to them and say, “You are a good kid. And I’m proud of you.” If your children are not here, please take the opportunity to say that to them soon, and many times after that.
In our grief, we must not attempt to erase Jordan from our physical world. The tendency will sneak up on us with word choices and slips of the tongue. But Jordan’s room is still his room, not “was”. Jordan’s clothes are still his clothes. Jordan’s bathroom is still his bathroom, his birthday is still September 3rd of every year, and he is still the baby of our family. The pain of his loss will never end, but we must not let it consume us. My brother is not in there. He is in those photos, in our memories, in the things he touched, the places he traversed, and in the eyes of the people who knew him.
Remember on Mother’s Day, you are still the mother of two children and step mother to three. And you are still the father of five. That will never change. However, the physical loss of one child can make your other children look fragile. You will want to overcompensate your level of protection. It is a deceptive trick of Fate, and it is a philosophy that beckons defeat. An overprotected child is a flower bud without access to light or water. Let it be known that Jordan was not fragile. He put up with a lot of private issues that would challenge the mettle of even the toughest full grown adult. He just yearned for control that he could not find any other way.
I will not hide behind grief. I will think about Jordan everyday, but it will not harden my heart. The door through which my emotions pass will be shut to regret, to doubt, to blame, to anger. Only love will be permitted to enter. And when someone asks about my family, I will answer, “I have two sisters and two brothers. One of my brothers lived only to the age of twenty, but my love for him continues to grow with each passing day.”