Notes From the Funeral

[1]

Delivered June 28, 2020 at Eagle Lake in Fort Custer Recreation Area — Battle Creek, Michigan.

Just after Jordan (McGlashen) died, Nicole (McGlashen) remembered that whenever Jordan called, he’d bypass the typical phone greetings and just get straight to whatever it was he needed to say. And at any point during the conversation, he’d abruptly express exactly what he was thinking at that moment. During the last conversation Jordan had with Nicole, he interrupted her mid-sentence to say…“I just love the $h@! out of you.”

It’s tempting on occasions like this to take the path of least resistance, to walk gingerly across the eggshells, to keep it positive and abstract. That seems hard to do here.

So let’s just get straight to it.

We shouldn’t be here.

Sure, given Jordan’s past, at some distant outpost in my mind preparations were always underway just in case that call came one day. Each morning brought a new battle for him, as Dad would so often say, so of course this was always possible, maybe even somewhat expected?

But who was really ready? Raising the phone to my ear at 5 AM on May 7th was like self-applying a branding iron.

On one hand, Jordan was a mess. He made extremely poor, destructive decisions that compounded existing problems and created new ones. When you hear about deaths like Jordan’s, it’s easy to close the book right there. Of course that’s how it ended. Typical addict.

On the other hand, I have all of these memories.

On a bus ride to school in the fall of my seventh grade year, a group of our neighbors were enthralled by Jordan’s telling of our harrowing white water rafting excursion in Tennessee the summer before. After coming over a severe drop in the river, nose-diving, and then, I suspect, all of us stopping paddling, our raft had “surfed.”

For you non-rafters, which you will soon learn includes me, here’s a technical definition of “surfing” from Timberlinetours.com:

“…Surfing in a raft happens when the raft gets stuck in a hole without flipping. In the hole, water circulates and surges continuously beneath the raft. While kayakers will go out and surf waves for fun, paddlers in rafts don’t normally like being stuck in this situation. When a raft surfs in a hole, it hangs in a very delicate balance, unable to move out of the hole unless guides and paddlers make an attempt to stop surfing and get back into the river’s downstream current. Since surfing happens in instances when the raft is balanced on top of rapidly circulating water, attempts to get out of the hole can disrupt the delicate balance and either go well…or not so well”[1]

In our case, we were actually spinning in circles while surfing. Is that normal? I have no idea. The guide kept screaming at us to stay on the high side of the raft as we spun so that we didn’t flip over. Very reasonable advice. Problem: From my fetal position at one of the raft’s corners, I was screaming several octaves higher than I would have guessed my apparently-still-in-sixth-grade voice was even capable of.

In my own defense though, the stalled raft was only part of my problem. B.J. (McGlashen) had been thrown out of the raft immediately on impact. And I saw him briefly come up out of the water only to be sucked back underneath by the river. Unbeknownst to me, while under the water, B.J. apparently remembered his training. He stopped fighting to get back above the water, and allowed the river to carry him along to a safer spot. But I only saw him go under. So, for what felt like the length of Michigan’s losing streak to Ohio State, I was stuck on the raft, under assault by the rushing river water, spinning in circles, trying to stay on the high side, and thinking that my brother had drowned. After another boat’s guide threw us a rope, we managed to get ourselves together and we paddled hard out of our predicament — and by “we” I mean Jordan and anyone else who was still on the raft other than me. It was a merciful end to our surfing adventure.

Back to the bus — I remember seeing the eyes and faces of the people to whom Jordan was telling this story, one of whom may have been a girl I had a crush on. As was so often the case when Jordan performed anything, the surrounding eyes fixed on him were large. And the faces were thrilled and eagerly anticipating what was next. Then someone asked “How was Collin during all this?” As I braced for my humiliation, Jordan turned to look two seats back and across the aisle at me. I stared right back, helplessly, like a newborn baby deer.

Smiling, he said: “Oh, he was pretty cool through it all.”

Jordan always seemed to be looking out for me. Freshmen couldn’t leave our high school campus for lunch, so Jordan – a junior at the time – brought me more Mancino’s Pizza Subs than he probably sold as an employee. I never paid a dime. I don’t think he did either.

One of Jordan’s best friends in high school, Eric Deboer, shared after Jordan died about how little Jordan cared about how he dressed, that he just “showed up and played tunes.” The pictures he shared on Facebook were conclusive proof. I remember — me being ever so image conscious growing up — trying to figure out what to wear to an eighth grade dance. Jordan tried desperately to convince me just to wear whatever was going to be comfortable, going as far as writing a message on my desk that is now branded on my brain because it was written in thick black permanent marker, to be seen and read daily: ”always go comfortable, you look cooler too.”

I don’t know about “look cooler” but he certainly always went comfortable. His T-shirts were too large, and his jeans rippled around the waist with the tightening of a belt that wrapped around him twice.

Despite what the circumstances of his death would lead one to assume about his life, Jordan, at his best, was also brave. Kaitlin (McGlashen) recently shared with me: “Everyone knows he was talented. But they didn’t know about his bravery. He was the bravest person I have ever known. He made so many mistakes. But there were times in his life where he tried in earnest to make amends even when it terrified him. He admitted mistakes others would have tried to cover up. It was important to him. While others may rightfully see a less than shining character, attention must be paid to that sort of thing.”

Oh, but how can we forget those decisions? All the really bad, face-palm inducing “Oh Jordan” ones!” When he just couldn’t seem to get his act together, even with all of his extraordinary gifts. When the best path forward just seemed so obvious, and we’d watch in horror as he’d take a more destructive one.

But he was also humble and contrite.

But he could be deceptive too. I know he bent the truth a time or two because he needed me to do something for him.

But he was a truth-teller too — the guy who would tell you exactly what was on his mind, which was often something  thoughtful, loving, and slightly out-there. For example: “I love ya so very much Bud. I can feel John T’s pride in you from outside this crazy universe (That’s far. Like a lot of farness).” This is the last text I ever received from Jordan. April 28. My 37th Birthday. Nine days before his 39th…when the call came.

On our trip home in August 2019, just after a spot was found on Dad’s lung, Jordan told me that he was rarely picking up his guitar anymore. After lifting my jaw from the floor I asked why – he said it just made him sad.  

Perhaps that should have given me a clue as to where things were headed. Maybe if I’d realized that then, I might have been more available to him in those final months. Maybe talking with him more would have limited his opportunities to use, or reduce his feeling of needing to do so. Maybe. Maybe not. I don’t know. What I do know is this: here we are, even on a warm and sunny Michigan summer day, left to face the dark, harsh cold of his absence with seemingly little to comfort us or find redeeming about it all.

Yet “the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.” Lillian Pauline’s presence here provides a glimpse of our only ultimate hope — all that which is broken will one day be restored.

Jordan was brilliantly talented, but not just that. An addict, but not just that. Loving brother, but not just that. Deceptive, but not just that. Brave, but not just that.

Saint and betrayer. Deserter and Disciple.

A mess who bore the image of God.

“And the dust returns to the earth as it was, and the breath returns to God who gave it.”[2]

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[1] Timberline Tours. "5 Rafting Terms You’ll Want to Know.” 16 Nov. 2016. https://timberlinetours.com/rafting-terms/

[2] Ecclesiastes 12:7