Life is short, and we are blessed

Almost 2 weeks ago, while I was in Japan, I received news that my dear friend, Jon Homewood, had passed away. The loss sat heavily with me, and I needed time, quiet and spacious, to process it. Life has a way of reminding us, sometimes sharply, that it is short, fragile, and impossibly precious.

I met Jon 12 years ago in Tokyo. We bonded over movies, wandering the city in search of good food, good conversation, and those small moments that stay with you for years. Jon had ongoing health challenges, yet he approached life with a kind of stoic joy, an ease, a willingness to laugh, a refusal to let illness define him. And always, that unmistakable crisp British accent that made every joke a little funnier and every conversation feel instantly familiar.

After he moved up north and I eventually left Japan, we weren’t in touch as often. But it was one of those friendships where, whenever we did connect, it felt like no time had passed at all. The thread was always there, steady and unchanged, waiting for the next time one of us tugged on it.

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