One of the first memories I have of Jason is going to his Dad's house late at night shortly after meeting Jason through our mutual friend Jake Carter. I vaguely remember Jason telling me about his interest in Apple Computers and showing me his computer, which was an Apple Computer. He told me what he did in terms of some software on it or something to that nature, but it went over my head. For the rest of the night we played the original Zelda on his Nintendo and beat it with the help of a cheat code.

Jason was someone who was so inclusive of everyone and wanted to make friends and connect with people. He was so driven with passion and interests that it seemed anything was possible with what he chose to pursue. I recall when he got into drones and he showed me one of the ones he built and he made it seem so easy to use with the goggles he had and the controls in hand. It definitely was something that was not easy after failing at it over an hour in his garage in Chino just trying to get it to stay hovering over the ground. That was him in a nutshell though. When he put his mind to anything, it happened. 

I'm going to miss Jason's random texts messages and videos that he would send me. I'm going to miss catching up with him and talking about seeing Jakes band play in the various venues around the Inland Empire and Long Beach. This is and will always be a grieving process that will get easier with time, but nonetheless the life will be so terribly sad without Jason.

Miss you and Love you Jason. 

Lifetime of Friendship: Remembering Jason

I met Jason soon after we moved into our new home on Crestbrook Court in Diamond Bar, back in July of 1987. My son, Erik, had gone across the street to introduce himself to our new neighbors, Mike and Kathy. Not long after, Erik came running back, with a sweet young boy at his side — Jason.

The boys asked if Erik had gone to a Mommy and Me class when he was about two years old. When I said yes, Kathy smiled and said she remembered him because of his height. From that moment on, Erik and Jason were inseparable — just four years old and already best friends. That was nearly 39 years ago.

Together, they shared so many milestones — preschool at the YMCA in Diamond Bar, then Evergreen Elementary, Chaparral Middle School, and finally Diamond Bar High School. Kathy and I carpooled for years — she’d drive them to school, and I’d pick them up in the afternoons.

One day at Evergreen Elementary, while doing carpool in my brand-new Eddie Bauer minivan, someone rear-ended us.

Thankfully, everyone was okay. What I’ll never forget was seeing Jason and Erik standing on the curb, yelling at the driver who hit us. Two little boys, indignant and brave — it still makes me smile when I remember it.

So many memories live in those car rides. One day, Jason rolled down the window, looked at the driver next to us, and asked in perfect seriousness, “Pardon me, do you have any Grey Poupon?” We burst into laughter, and I can still hear it now.

Jason and Erik were constant companions — riding their bikes in our cul-de-sac, playing cowboys and Indians, swimming in the pool, and even joining Erik’s little sister, Kristin in her play kitchen. They went to Boy Scouts together, learned, laughed, and grew up, side by side.

Jason was such an important part of my children’s childhood — like another son in our family who joined us for daily activities and family vacations.

Of course, like all best friends, they had their moments. I remember one day they came running home from a neighbor’s house, arguing over a video game. Erik was so upset that I had to step, literally in-between them and shout, “Jason, go home!” It was one of the few times I ever saw them fight — and even that memory feels sweet now.

When we moved to Chino Hills, the boys were fifteen years old, and soon after that came cars, jobs, and growing up. I saw less of Jason, but the friendship between him and Erik only deepened over time. I’ll never forget seeing the two of them years later, sitting on the floor of Erik’s first home — no furniture yet, just the two of them with their laptops, sharing laughs and GEEKING OUT over computers. It warmed my heart to see their bond still so strong.

When Erik got married in 2009, Jason stood beside him as his best man. Before the wedding, Jason and I had the chance to talk and truly connect. I got to see the wonderful young man he had become — kind, thoughtful, and genuine. That time meant a great deal to me, and even more now.

Over the years, Jason was always part of our family celebrations — birthdays, parties, and other celebrations. Even if we didn’t talk often, I was always happy when I saw him.

When Jason bought his home, I loved seeing how proud he was of it. He poured his heart into making it his own, working on projects, fixing things up, and sharing his progress online. We even talked about gardening and caring for plants together.

In recent years, we connected over family research. We’d text each other about what we found on Ancestry.com, comparing notes and discoveries. It’s a small thing — but a special connection I’ll always treasure.

Jason has been a presence in our lives for nearly four decades — through childhood laughter, milestones, and moments of quiet friendship. His absence is deeply felt, but so is his love, his kindness, and his humor.

My family and I will miss Jason more than words can express. When I think of him, I will always remember the laughter, the gentle heart, and the friend who grew up alongside my children — and who will forever be a part of our family story.

Kathy and Mike, my heart goes out to you for the loss of your beloved son, Jason. May the cherished memories you hold close help bring you peace and comfort in the days ahead.

With love and remembrance,

Susan Gundersen

RIP Jason, and my sincerest condolences to Jason’s family and close friends.                         

Jason was one of the smartest, most creative, tech-savvy, and talented artists I’ve ever known. Responsible, practical, and great with money—nothing like me. I was always looking for his approval when making purchases or big decisions.                                                                         

“Hey Jason, I’m gonna buy this $200 guitar pedal!”                                                                         

“Why?! It would cost $20 to build!”                       So he’d look up the schematics and build it himself.                                                                        

Beyond his friendship, Jason helped me build things, documented our friends and bands, and was my harshest (and most honest) music critic. I asked him to be one of my groomsmen so he’d know how much his friendship meant to me. His response after seeing what being part of a wedding party entails: “Dude, if I would’ve known I was gonna drop a G, I would’ve just declined!” Frickin Jason!                                     

Audio Visual Jason Villa — AV/JV (Lanterman Joke). You were the true talent, the real artist, and like so many greats, you may have not even realized it. Miss you my dear friend.