Ross Tip - a last Farewell to Ian Jobe Im at a loss when it comes to loss. I find the loss of life senseless, even when it is the natural order of things. But even more so, I find untimely death even more disconcerting. As many of you know I lost my father far too early at the age of 48 to liver failure. I spent much time after his death reflecting on him. You never know how much a person is a part of you until they are no longer here for you to see whenever you want. It was the most profound loss in my life. You find yourself trying to understand what death or loss really means and why it is here. Unfortunately you find that it is something that cant be explained or quantified, summed up, understood , or even really discussed to enlighten us on how to handle it. Death is a true undiscovered country to the living, and one I feel we can never truly understand in our time here. It seems so unfair to be here for a finite amount of time with an infinite number of experiences to be had. I bring all of this up because just recently I have experienced another profound loss, the loss of my student and loving friend Ian Jobe. I dont understand why he is not here anymore. He was only 20 years old. And in the game of life I always saw him with the energy of a bull in a china shop. He didnt walk into a room, he imploded it because his mind was so sharp and his heart so big that everything in the room was pulled toward him. I cannot fathom why he went to the lengths that he went to escape a pain that could not be verbalized. I find myself angry, distraught, and lost. I feel like someone has cut the power to part of my heart and a great light has gone out. I find myself reaching for some sort of answer as to why or how, and where do we go from here. So I made a video of all the people that I could find that knew Ian and wanted him to know how much they cared about him. I just hoped in my heart he would hear those voices and wake up. I stood there, next to Ian in his hospital room with the tubes and the beeps and the pump inflating his lungs wishing for a miracle. Wishing while I stood there with his father and my wife , that his eyes would open, he would give me that signature blurting laugh, and that darkened part of my heart would click on again. That the pain that his family was going through would magically lift into the air as some secretive angel had carried it away. I wanted to have this person who Ive watched from sophomoric kid to intelligent young man understand what an impact he had on everyone he met, what an impact he had on me. I wanted to have my friend back, the one that made me laugh to tears and made me proud as I have watched him grow up. But he didnt open his eyes, and he didnt squeeze my hand as I was holding his. And his familys pain was still real and still here. He was gone...from this place and this time. The tears welled in my eyes for him, his family, and this incredible loss to me and the world. I felt lost again, and even with people around completely alone without my friend. And then I reflected on when I lost my father, and I thought of that hole that I thought was there when I lost him a few years ago. I put my arms around Karen and closed my eyes, and as if someone had turned the dial on a detuned radio I could hear my fathers voice in the back of my mind, speaking to me. He said dont worry son, Ian is here with me in heaven. His voice was so gentle, like when he would hold me in his arms when I was child and I would drift off to sleep. He said, I know you are sad because you feel that place in your heart is gone, but just because the light has gone out doesnt mean that place isnt still there. Think of Ian, tell everyone who he was to you, and that part of him will never disappear. And then I heard Ians laugh, he was laughing with my father. So I listened to my dad and I remembered who Ian was, and I realized that while I was wishing for a miracle in him opening his eyes, I was missing the obvious fact that the miracle was that he was here in the first place. So I want to tell you who Ian was. Ian was an explosion in space, a meteor skipping off the earths atmosphere, an earthquake in the center of the ocean that becomes a great tsunami that washes over the land, and anyone who met him was left with an endearing watermark of where his wave of love and laughter broke. Ive met some true originals in my day, but few compare to Ian. He had a presence about him, and no matter where you went or who you were with you could not ignore when Ian entered a room. He had an infectious fun about him that always pulled you in, and he would stop at nothing to make someone...anyone smile. Ian was special, and the kind of special that isnt always understood in a world like ours. A world with walls and limits and unspoken rules that govern our lives and behavior; and these special ones fight hard to fit inside these walls we build while at the same time trying to break them down. Its like trying to cage a shooting star, and that is exactly what Ian was. A glowing intensity that swept across every one. He felt things to extremes. Some people say they love with hugs and kisses, but Ian loved by pulling his still beating heart from his chest and handing it to you unafraid of rejection. When Ian was downtrodden he felt sorrow like a melancholy poem of all the great American Romantics combined. There was no in between or middle ground with Ian, he was on the fringe of every emotion and every idea, which is why he was so wonderful and original. He loved every person he met, and was a stranger to no one. I often think of him in the subway of New York City when he came across some street musicians drumming and playing away in the terminals. He would allow their music to fill him and he would dance wildly next them to show how much he enjoyed it. And when people would walk by handing him money because they thought he was part of the act, he threw it in their jars and said love you buddy. It just reminds me that a soul is not our own, it belongs to a higher power, and we are just the stewards of the soul weve been given on earth. Some souls are epic novels that carry through the generations, and some souls are haikus that may rest in only a few words but whose impact digs canyons in the earth and reigns electricity down from the heavens. And the real magical part is that the Lord gives us a place they can live forever, in our memories. Ian changed lives, touched lives, emphatically made lives better, and by doing so enriched his own. But like all shooting stars his light was short, his fire was quick, but for those who got to see him burning streaks through the clouds his presence was life changing. I am sorry he is gone. I will miss him, I will mourn him every time a joke is told or a funny voice is used. I wish all the best to his wonderful family who brought and raised this joy into the world, and I hope he will let me know when he reaches the pearly gates if his fake Russian Accent fools Saint Peter and makes him laugh. A world of love to you Ian, goodbye my friend, send a laugh down for all of us. Sincerely, Ross Schexnayder
Posted on: Mon, 26 Jan 2015 10:10:43 +0000
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