In 6th grade, on Monday afternoons after school I would go with Jackson to the Bokenkamp household. My mother had some sort of appointment or something? Maybe my sister had some sort of dance or art class? I don’t remember. What I do remember is the time I spent with Jackson. I had, of course, known Jackson from a young age, but by the time middle school rolled around it had been a long time since I had last properly interacted with him, and I must admit I was nervous for these Monday afternoon hangouts.
I was nervous because I was an awkward kid coming into an adolescence that I was decidedly NOT comfortable in. I wasn’t enjoying sports the same way anymore, and would soon seek solace in the performing arts. Since Jackson was so athletic I was worried we wouldn’t get along, or that he would resent me for taking his precious after-school time. But from my first time over, Jackson was gracious. He met me at my level and found things in common that we could do together. We played a lot of Mario 3D World on the WiiU.
I remember other moments watching TV, taking shots on his bedroom basketball hoop or running around the house playing with Nerf guns, chewing gum from Kathy’s bountiful supply (which I didn’t have at home). I quickly began to look forward to Monday afternoons, when I got to spend time with a friend.
My memories around these afternoons, even over the weeks as the difficulty of a confused adolescence and the newness of middle school set in, are all so warm, because Jackson was just so kind. Kinder than I had expected, in my scared, tweenage mind. He was gentle and sensitive, traits I found woefully lacking in most boys our age. He fully embraced me as a friend, and I grew to love his silliness, his genuine ability to access a childlike joy that middle school was draining from many others our age, and his unpretentious intelligence. He was a good host. He was smart, talented, and never seemed upset about spending time with me. And as the years went on and our paths would cross here and there, I always thought of him as a friend, someone whose kindness was reliable.
I look back on him and these times quite fondly, and even though we would never be that close again, I could always rely on him for a smile or a friendly greeting. He was someone I hoped to reconnect with years down the line, to share a “remember when?” over those Monday afternoons. I have been deeply saddened by the news of his passing, and he has not left my thoughts since. He was an exceptional person and the world is worse off for his absence. I am sending you all a lot of love, and sending a hearty fuck you to the cruel randomness of the universe.
September 3, 2026