Remembering Jonathan

With the anniversary of Jonathan’s death approaching, I’m sharing the remembrance I delivered at his memorial service.

As I speak, I hold both Jonathan and my sister Tory, who passed away this past August, close to my heart. They shared a deep bond, one that distance and time could never weaken. I take comfort in imagining them together again, side by side, watching over us with love.

Jonathan was born at home, as was tradition in 1960s England, with a midwife at my mother’s side. None of us could have known the journey that little boy would take — one that would span continents, touch countless lives, and be filled with both adventure and grace.

In 1966, our family moved from England to Bethesda, Maryland, where we spent six lively, joy-filled years before making another great leap, to Bangladesh. While our parents and sister Tory remained there, the three boys were sent to boarding school in England, returning home only for the holidays. But those holidays were unforgettable. Living in Bangladesh opened our eyes to the beauty and diversity of the world, experiences that shaped who we became. From those travels together, certain memories still remain vivid today.

For there we stood in awe before the shimmering white marble of the Taj Mahal, silent in its beauty.

We camped at the edge of a glacier in Kashmir, a breathtaking stillness that turned perilous when my father fell ill and a landslide blocked our path home.

There was that terrifying drive up the winding mountainous road to Darjeeling, our car clinging to the road with a thousand-foot drop just inches away, and no guard rail, every turn a test of faith.

And I’ll never forget our boat ride back from Ko Lan Island in Thailand, a sudden storm with waves crashing over the bow of the boat, where we had just been sitting moments ago, the boat lurching violently. Through all of it, we were together. And those experiences bound us for life.

It’s almost hard to believe that the same boy who once dressed up for parades in rather questionable outfits would grow into such a remarkable man, sharp-minded, witty, and endlessly curious. My parents were so proud when Jonathan was accepted to Cambridge University , our father’s alma mater. He embraced university life in true Jonathan style, bow tie perfectly knotted and that ever-present gleam of intellectual curiosity. He seemed destined to succeed and he did.

Jonathan had a drive that never faded. Whether he was running, cycling, or working, he gave his all. Determined. Focused. Unstoppable. Yet what truly defined him wasn’t his brilliance or his ambition, it was his heart.

He was loyal. Generous. Deeply kind.

Some of my fondest memories are the simplest ones, all of us gathered around the dinner table, good food, cheap wine (that frugality at work) and laughter flowing, and Jonathan, with his wit and warmth, lighting the room like no one else could.

Jonathan’s life, like all lives, had its challenges. But what I’ll never forget is his grace. He faced his illness with quiet courage, never seeking pity, never complaining, just that steady, quiet determination that had always been his strength. There was a dignity in how he lived, and an even greater dignity in how he faced the end.

What Jonathan leaves behind cannot be measured in accomplishments, though there were many. What endures is the love he gave, the laughter he shared, and the wisdom he left in our hearts.

We will miss him every single day. But I believe he’s not truly gone from us. He lives on in the stories we tell, in the way we see the world , and in those moments of humor that make us smile and think, “That’s so Jonathan.”

Rest well, dear brother.

You were, and always will be, one of a kind.

Your footsteps gently fade away,
A courageous battle, fought with grace.
Now your soul reaches out for Tory,
Together shining beyond our sight.
Though we mourn with heavy sorrow,
Your legacy will remain our glorious light to you,
Forever and always.