Death is nothing at all.  It does not count.  I have only slipped away into the next room.  Nothing has happened.  Everything remains exactly as it was.  I am I, and you are you, and the old life that we lived so fondly together is untouched, unchanged.  Whatever we were to each other, that we are still.  Call me by the old familiar name.  Speak of me in the easy way which you always used.  Put no difference into your tone.  Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow.  Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes that we enjoyed together.  Play, smile, think of me, pray for me.  Let my name be ever the household word that it always was.  Let it be spoken without an effort, without the ghost of a shadow upon it.    Life means all that it ever meant.  It is the same as it ever was.  There is absolute and unbroken continuity.  What is this death but a negligible accident?  Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight?  I am but waiting for you, for an interval, somewhere very near, just around the corner.

We find our way in the world, the best we know how.  We make choices about how and where we’ll live, who we’ll share our lives with, the direction and paths on which our life will proceed.  We do all we can to figure it all out the best way we know how.

In that process, we remember those whose presence in our lives were most memorable - and formative - to us.  We think about them and all they meant to us.  How they shaped our becoming the people we’ve become.  How they accompanied us on the journey we found ourselves engaged in in navigating our way forward.  How and why they were destined to become such an important part of our journey.

There is no such thing as the insignificance of those people in our journey.  They, in part, directly helped in making us the selves we are.  They occupied a crucial and indelible part of our consciousness - then and now.  When they leave us, they leave us with knowledge, wisdom, happiness, emotion, laughter, memory.   They leave us with the knowledge that with their presence in our lives, we truly held goodness in our hands.  They remain with us forever.

Yes, their loss from the immediate presence of our life happens - they die and are no longer physically with us in our day to day world again.  But who they are to us and what they represented to us as we move forward on our own path - that never goes away.   Ever.  We are, in real measure, who we are precisely because of them.

Jake will be with us as we remember the wonder of his presence in our lives and on our journeys.  He was a marvelous, genuinely good person to have in our world.   He was a person who always wanted only for others to be happy and at peace.  He exemplified: Love, acceptance, trust, diligence, hard work, innate smartness, honesty, kindness, generosity.  In a world which often lacks these things, Jake fostered them.  And we remember all of those things as we hold Jake in our hearts.

Thank you, Jake, for all you gave us.

I will always be deeply grateful for the profound goodness of Jake’s life as it intersected with ours.  Rest in peace, treasured Nephew, and Godspeed.

Denis Krill

Grand Rapids, Michigan

It still doesn’t feel real that Jake—Jmac—is gone. I’ve been sitting with his loss and struggling to put into words what he meant to me and to so many others. One cannot help but smile through the tears recounting the time I was lucky enough to share with him.  

We were of course friends at OLC but grew even closer at Prep. We swam together at Lake Shore, spent summer after summer lifeguarding at Presque Isle, and shared more laughs than I can count. Those were some of the best times of my life, and Jake was always at the center of them—kind, hilarious, thoughtful, and so full of heart.

Even when life pulled us in different directions—college, work, new cities—Jake was one of those rare friends you could always pick right back up with, like no time had passed. I especially treasure the time we got to spend together in D.C.—our marathon dinners, long talks over cigars at Shelly’s, debates about politics, comedy, advertising, and everything in between. I always walked away from those nights feeling lighter, happier, wishing they didn’t have to end.

Jake was a special kind of person. He brought empathy and joy into every interaction. He cared deeply—about his work, about doing the right thing, about staying healthy, about people. He was thoughtful in a way that stood out. You could feel how big his heart was, just being around him. He made everyone feel welcome.

It’s difficult not to think about the things I wish I’d told him more—how much I loved and appreciated him. I hope he knew. I think he did. But I still wish I’d said it louder.

I like to imagine him now in heaven, working on Jesus’s campaign—working to create more kind, empathetic souls just like him. Maybe with his MacBook open, a fine cigar in hand, sending love and comfort to all of us through our guardian angels. "Dear Patriot, it'll be OK"

Jmac, we love you. We always have, and we always will.

Rest easy, brother. You were one of a kind.