It was exactly three years ago, on October 20, 2003 that I got that phone call from Jonathan. Always happy to hear from him, I glady put aside my work to take the call. "Dad, there's something I have to tell you. I know that you're not going to want to hear this, but you're going to have to hear it some time so I guess now is as good a time as any." "Did you get into an automobile accident?" I automatically responded. "No Dad, just listen. This is serious." After a short pause during which I could hear him clearing his throat, he continued, "I have Leukemia!"

2003-09-11 Dear Jonathan We love you and miss you.

Immensely creative and intelligent, Jonathan was a very special young man, much loved by his family and friends. I liked him immediately; he was sweet and funny, but also fiercely sincere. He had a very dry, no-nonsense New York wit about him that was thoroughly engaging. I was Jonathanís music therapist at Sloan Kettering Cancer Center. I first saw him in March 2002. He had just suffered his second relapse of leukemia and was undergoing another round of intense chemotherapy. Over the course of our work together, Jonathan was growing increasingly weak. He had a fungal infection in his lungs and a whole host of minor but bothersome ailments. I quickly realized that Jonathan needed to play the music he loved, a masculine, assertive kind of music. He needed Rock ní Roll. Jonathanís song choices reflected his sometimes very depressed mood in the hospital. It may be summed up in the refrain of ìVenus in Furs,î by the sixtiesí band ìVelvet Underground,î in a song he liked and which we recorded: ìI am tired, I am weary. I could sleep, for a thousand years A thousand dreams could not awake meÖî Due to Jonathanís dedication to creating quality recordings, the music therapy took place in an atmosphere of almost professional focus and concentration. Tape was rolling, both Joshís video camera and my mini-disc recorder. Josh once remarked: ìTheir recording sessions were full of laughter but were also intensely serious. When the disc was running, Jonathan wasnít in a hospital, he was in a recording studio; he wasnít infirm, he was full of health and vigor. He wasnít enslaved by his disease, he was free.î During that first meeting, Jonathan showed me a few songs by Johnny Cash and Buddy Holly. He had sheet music with the lyrics and chords, but since I was unfamiliar with these songs, Jonathan taught me the guitar parts. He took the guitar and attempted to play them for me, which was very difficult since his fingertips were quite tender, a side effect of the chemotherapy. So he sang the parts to me, and it worked. The recordings were startlingly intimate; Jonathanís voice on this first session is still firm, even though it is apparent that he is sick. There is vigor and devotion in his singing. Over the course of a few months, Jonathan and I recorded a whole CD of material. Sadly, Jonathan was growing weaker and weaker, and this is documented in the music we recorded together. In the end, all he could do was whisper the lyrics. Tragically, he seemed to be winning his fight against the cancer, with his leukemia in remission ñ it appeared to be the fungal infection and the effects of surgical complications that caused him to pass away. Meeting Jonathan shaped my life in a major way ñ he was very important in my decision to make a career of music therapy. I loved him in my own way, and he is still with me, very much so. I feel just blessed that I could make his acquaintance.

Jonathan was the kindest person, the best person I have ever known. During the last year I have dwelled on many mermories of him, some of which begin to describe this part of his nature. The memory that jumps out at me first is also the most remarkable. He had just relapsed after an allogenic bone marrow transplant. During the past 16 months he had been subjected to constant torturous treatment that would be unimaginable to most of us. When he was told by his transplant doctor that he had relapsed, she told him that nothing could be done and he would die. Then we saw a physician in Minnesota, who gave him some hope, but who explained how at three critical junctures of his treatment he had been deceived by his oncologist. Jonathan was told that his treatment had not given him the good chances of cure that were available. After these thoughts had been confirmed by a prominent physician at Sloan-Kettering, Jonathan's reaction was remarkably restrained and forgiving. He merely said "So Dad, it seems that (my oncologist) let us down." Because he was such an honest, kind and compassionate person, Jonathan was unable to believe the worst of his physician. He was only able to feel disappointment. At one time during his treatment it seemed as if none of the physicians at Sloan were really trying very hard to help him, and we all knew that he needed a determined effort for him to be cured. Feeling that his physicians were most likely over worked and too busy to concentrate on his case, Jonathan asked me to offer one of them some money to try harder. I didn't really know how to go about doing this, nor did I think I had enough money to influence them. I will never forgive myself for not trying, but Jonathan never held it against me. He never was able to be vindictive. After Jonathan was first diagnosed with Leukemia, I approached many of my extended family members for help. Some of them responded and as a result, our feelings toward each other became stronger. "Maybe something good will come from all this (his illness)," he obseverd. "At least it's helping you to get closer to your family." It was typical for him, looking for the good and not dwelling on the bad in any situation. Jonathan never went throught the typical teenager-young adult rebellious, resentful stage. He was never bitter or rude toward his parents. When he felt that I had acted wrong toward him, his brother, or anyone else, he would tell me in a way that both conveyed his criticism and conveyed his love. Usually he would begin with something like "Dad, you know you really should ..." Jonathan was the best friend that anyone could have. He was intensely loyal to his family and to his friends. I remember one particular moment when he was discussing his band, "The Physicals." He explained to Josh why he was including a less qualified musician, saying "After all, he's a really good friend, and that means a lot too." He was extraordinarily good company because he was always willing to focus on the interests and problems of others. Even when he was in the early twenties and late teens, which are usually introspective years, Jonathan was always willing to learn and discuss with genuine enthusiasm the concerns of his companions. Our home became a happy home as soon as Jonathan walked in. It was not only because he was always happy, lively, and enthusiatic. It was also because his goodness was contagious. It seemed to be difficult for anyone to be negative, critical or mean when he was present. Every one who knew him loved him, and was loved by him. And through some wondeful process this aura of love spread to all those around him. During all the time I spent with him since he was a baby, I never saw him try to be cruel or to intentionally hurt any one's feelings. He's the only such person I've ever known. And if he ever feared that he had unintentionally hurt some one, he was very concerned and tried to right his lapse. Although Jonathan was a very unique person in many respects, his quality of goodness, I think, is what most distinguished him as a truly unique and exceptional individual.

Dear Jonathan, I miss you so much!

hi baby. missing you like crazy. remembering the moments, the silences that just felt damn great, the laughs that made us sweat. love you always.

Our thoughts are with you and your family today... Julie and i had a long moment of silence together this morning...then we cried, then we laughed, always remembering how great people make us live as better human beings We WILL ALWAYS LOVE JONATHAN, he will ALWAYS make us be better people, he lives in us too, forever. We honor your sacrifice, and that of your family. We PROMISE to NEVER let it be forgotten Love and Respect

Recently Josh told me that today is the one year anniversary of when you... um...hmmm... left the physical world. I just found out it was to the tune of Never Fade Away. I got the chills thinking about what it must be like for Josh right about now... and then when I came home I looked at the pictures of you in HEEB magazine and read the paragraph Jennifer wrote in the beginning of issue 3. I don't know why, but I wanted to remember you, even thought I never even met you There's an expression in Farsi: "Jaat khalieh". It literally means your place is empty. But it also means you can't be replaced. The space you took up in people's lives is and will be empty. There's a hole, a void... you get it, right? Anyhow, it doesn't go away, it doesn't get filled, nor should it. I'm saying this here because, well it's today... and because I've seen it in Josh and I've felt it personally... It maybe ironic that you went by "Johnny Physical" and that now, the only part of you that's not here is the physical... it's not at all ironic that you will also Never Fade Away!

Dear Din, A year ago, I was writing to you, just like tonight. With a few differencesóI was at my parentsí place in NYC, Iím now in my apartment in Portland. I was chainsmoking, and now Iím chewing gum (a poor substitute, but thatís okayóI have a feeling you would be happy I quit). I was writing your eulogy, and now Iím just dropping you a note. And, most importantly, a year ago I had just started living in a world without you. It took a while to get used to (Iím not quite there yet). When I spoke to Josh on the phone, I often had to hold myself back from asking how you were doing. When I was terrified after watching The Ringóthe first horror film thatís really scared me in a long timeóI wanted to tell you about it. Instead, I had a dream that you were paying me a brief visit, messy hair, black glasses and all, and I told you all the movies, music, etc., that you needed to catch up on. You laughed, gave me a confused look, and said that you hadnít missed out on anything, that you had seen the movies and heard the music I was describing. You said that I should just relax and that we should hang out and create new experiences instead of talking about old ones. Of course, how silly of meóyouíre not the one who has been missing out on things, I have. We all have. Weíve been missing you. Thank you for having made it so easy to remember you. Love, Aviva

i wish that i can hold you now i wish that i can touch you now i wish that i can talk to you be with you somehow.... i know you're in a better place even though i can't see your face i know you're smiling down on me saying everything's okay love ya jon..miss you like crazy