Dear Jacob:

You would have been horrified by what happened in New York and Washington last week. I thought about you constantly, especially since it was your 30th birthday, and wondered if you were somewhere welcoming all those smart young people into your own new world and trying to explain to them what happened. It comforts me to think that they will be with you.

I miss you – I've missed you for a while. I only saw you a few times these last few years – you were very New York, and your intellect, which at one point I could somehow get my hands around, was too overwhelming for me. I thought I was too mainstream, too goody-goody for you. I wish I had moved past those insecurities and just hung out with you anyway. Just before you died, Katrina and I spoke about calling you to finally get together with you. Of course, I wish we had.

My husband Andy only met you a few times. He had no idea what you were really like or how much influence you had over my life until he came with me to your memorial service. Your family and friends who stood up to speak about you used the most beautiful, eloquent, hysterical and real words to describe you. I turned to Andy at one point, and, with tears in his eyes, he said to me "He was brilliant – surrounded by brilliant people who loved him. I'm sorry I didn't get to know him." I think he sort of understood then what you meant to me.

At Sidwell, you and I were always friends. But it wasn't until our senior year, when we took a
Thursday evening philosophy class together, that we became (at least I like to think) the best of friends. At 10:00 after class, I would get into your car (you were driving an Alpha I think at the time) and we would speed down to Jefferson Memorial, Guns and Roses blaring. We "chilled" on the steps talking about philosophy, friends, family, whatever. I loved that I was close to you then – I felt very special for having your attentions.

At Yale, we didn't see much of each other freshman year – you had a girlfriend, I was running around. But when your roommate died sophomore year, I went to your room hoping to comfort you. A couple of weeks later when my friend Christian was shot and killed, you came to comfort me and you were immediately loved by all of my friends. From then on we spent significant time together – partying, eating, hanging out in your room and later your apartment, making weekend trips to Tarrytown. I was glad to have you back. I remember one evening shortly after the deaths sophomore year, sitting in your dorm room as it was growing dark. We were waiting for friends to come over so we could go out to dinner. We sat in silence on the couch, our hands clasped together gently – in the dark. I felt your vulnerability then. I saw something that you rarely allowed anyone to see. That feeling has never left me, and it never will.

Jake, no one could believe it when you left us. But you lived a great life – you drove fast, you loved hard and you were an enigma that everyone wanted to know and uncover. There is no one in the world who has met you who did not want to know you more, to receive your attention, to figure you out. I am so glad that I, like so many others, am lucky enough to have unlimited memories of you. You will always be in my life.

I love you and I miss you,
Natasha