A Tribute to the "Nation"

Before the Monument Valley trip, what caused the visit to Arizona to happen in the first place was actually the sudden passing of a good friend of mine, and I decided to go back to say goodbye to Jason Mattan. One morning he did not report in to work; his wife, Brandy, had already left to work in the early morning hours and had been at her work for a few hours when she was called and asked to check on him. He was found deceased in his bed, and may have never woke that morning. There were no signs of foul play, and at the time of this writing, it is still unknown what caused Jason, at the age of 38 and of relatively good health, to pass away suddenly.

In our circle of friends, we called Jason many nicknames; including "Jasor" and "Nation". He called me "Oso", Spanish for "Bear",  because we used to all play hackysack and I would do a move that resembled a dancing bear that would make him hyperventilate with laughter. Brandy never latinized the nickname and still calls me Bear.

Both Nation and Brandy were partially paralyzed, and they met in physical therapy. Among other things, their paralysis affected their sense of taste, and foods had to be super spicy in order for them to taste the flavor. I would often join them at their house to watch boxing - a favorite sport of Jasor's - and we'd sit there and eat pizza, stacked high with jalapeno toppings, along with super fire hot wings and chase them down with sodas, whose carbonation only spreads and amplifies the heat. I'd be sweating more than the sparring boxers while the two of them would be fine, enjoying the meal, the match, and the company.

Jasor was partially paralyzed as a teenager and always dealt with his paralysis with good humor and unparalleled optimism. Nothing could ever break his spirit, and this optimism is one particular quality that I will always remember about him - it inspires me greatly. A loyal amigo, he frequently called to check on me after I moved to Texas, and we'd have a good laugh every time.

Nation painted often, particularly he would paint his own Christmas cards each year and sell them, donating proceeds to Barrows Neurological Institute at St. Joseph's hospital in Phoenix who had been so instrumental in his recovery. Around the funeral home were displayed his paintings - oils of southwestern motifs with a holiday flair. Jasor is the one who inspired me to create my own Christmas cards each year and I intend to carry on the tradition. He had touched so many lives in his short mortal sojourn, and the funeral home was packed with friends and family - standing room only - all there to say their last goodbyes.  He was a great friend and I will miss him dearly.

Below is the poem that was inscribed in his funeral program that very accurately portrays Jason:

Afterglow
I'd like the memory of me
to be a happy one.
I'd like to leave an afterglow
of smiles when life is done.

I'd like to leave an echo
whispering softly down the ways,
Of happy times and laughing times
and bright and sunny days.

I'd like the tears of those who grieve
to dry before the sun
Of happy memories that I leave
when my life is done.

Rest in peace, my friend.