Jonathan Moore
April 29, 1983 - November 11, 2020

Jonathan Moore

Jonathan Moore
Apr 29, 1983 - Nov 11, 2020

Jonathan Moore
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Our son Jon's gentle presence passed from this world and the world of his many friends on Saturday, November 8, 2020. His kind, caring and loving ways will always remain in our hearts, but now he is being helped and healed by a higher power, and undoubtedly getting ready for his next grand adventure and all that he was destined to a different place in a different time.

While our hearts have been heavy, we are also lifted by the knowledge that Jon has been released from a damaged shell and his spirit is now free and soaring. With all that lies within us, we celebrate and are ever grateful for all of the wonderful times we shared together. Jon's spirit here was larger than life for many that he touched and his gentle spirit well loved. His ready smile, his endearing laugh, his warm hugs, and his kind, caring and compassionate ways--these are the qualities that will always define him in our hearts. We will miss you Jon, but we will be reminded of your presence as the wind in the trees, the soft rain, the sun warming our shoulders...and by the amazing joy and laughter of your little son, Dery.


Judy Lund on Nov 15, 2020

Don’t think of him as gone away
his journey’s just begun,
life holds so many facets
this earth is only one.

Just think of him as resting
from the sorrows and the tears
in a place of warmth and comfort
where there are no days and years.

Think how he must be wishing
that we could know today
how nothing but our sadness
can really pass away.

And think of him as living
in the hearts of those he touched…
for nothing loved is ever lost
and he was loved so much.
His Journey’s Just Begun by Ellen Brenneman

Rob on Nov 15, 2020

By Ralph Waldo Emerson

If the red slayer think he slays,
Or if the slain think he is slain,
They know not well the subtle ways
I keep, and pass, and turn again.

Far or forgot to me is near;
Shadow and sunlight are the same;
The vanished gods to me appear;
And one to me are shame and fame.

They reckon ill who leave me out;
When me they fly, I am the wings;
I am the doubter and the doubt,
I am the hymn the Brahmin sings.

The strong gods pine for my abode,
And pine in vain the sacred Seven;
But thou, meek lover of the good!
Find me, and turn thy back on heaven.

We are all so sorry.... Rob, Judy and Sharon



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