On Landon... (For his daughter, Feliz Quinceañera)

Early 2007, your dad and I walked through downtown San Jose. It was a random excursion to get food somewhere I had never been, but your dad was confident we should trust. It wasn't far from the campus, but because we were walking from The Bricks, it was an additional half mile trek through campus to this mysterious lunch spot.

It was a Friday, so the campus was pretty quiet. Actually, most of downtown was pretty quiet. We jaywalked across what were usually busy streets, easily crossed the train tracks without worry, and climbed on ramps and staircases along the way. But the entire time, your dad is talking about this place like this was greatest food I would ever eat. We passed Popeyes, Subway, a few mom-and-pop sushi spots, a cafe, but it didn't seem like we were stopping any time soon.

On the walk over, we talked about his birthday ski trip from which he had just returned. He and your mom had just begun processing the news, and he was telling me about wanting us to transfer to CSUN. We were the only two of our friend group who were from LA, and I was already kind of hating SJSU, so I entertained the conversation.

"Come on, Jos! You can help me and Nicole raise the baby, and you can do your thing with the music and shit."

Your dad and I used to battle rap all the time and even recorded a song together (it's called "Hot Girl," and your dad was terrrrrrible. Ask anybody lol!) Your Uncle Mel was dabbling more in his DJing career, so it was perfect math to Landon. He'd have all his favorite people in one place: his girl, his mom, his friends, and his little bundle of joy.

By the time we arrived, do you know where your dad had walked us to? This long a** excursive trip!? Girl-- It was Pita Pit! You would have thought your dad was walking us to Benihana's. No, it was dry a** Pita Pit. But your dad had a knack for making the best of anything. And I guess on one of his Friday morning longboard trips with Michael Love (I explain later), they stumbled upon what they thought was the holy grail of sandwich options. But it was literally just Pita Pit.

To be clear, you father only wanted you. Exactly you as you are, is exactly what he wanted. On that walk to Pita Pit, he made it clear, "I want a daughter. N*ggas talk all day about having a son, but nah, I want a daughter. She's gonna be smart. My mama knows exactly what to do. And then Nicole can go to school during the day while I take care of the baby, and then I'll take night classes at CSUN."

Your father was one of the most focused people I had ever met.

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I remember when it came time for your father's service, I had written a poem. Something heartfelt and effervescent--just like he was. It was about how great of a friend he had been and how many memories we had together; how they were the only thing I had to hold onto; how much I was going to miss my friend.

When my sister and I got to the ceremony, we pulled up at the biggest church I had ever seen in person. There were so many people pouring into the building and in the pews and down the aisles. There were people of all ages there-- all connected to this young man who made such a wonderful impact on these folks lives. It was beautiful. Your father was loved so deeply that a ripple flowed through Reseda. It felt like every person in the city was in that church on that day.

The amount of people made me nervous so I shoved my poem in to the bottom of my purse and sat in the back of the church and sobbed quietly. I have always regretted that. I felt like, if there was ever a lesson to have learned from Landon, it was to never be afraid to express how much you care about a friend.

Landon was the friend who made it a point to tell our friend group that we had to pray for one another before we take long road trips. He was the friend who told us, "Let your friends know you love them every chance you get because you just never know when you won't be able to tell them again." Your father was profound.

But I was scared. He was my best friend, but I still didn't feel comfortable telling everyone else how incredible he had been to all of us at school-- how great of a friend he had been to me. I had lost plenty of friends before, but only from gang violence. I had never lost a friend in this way.

This was different...

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This was Landon! He was the youngest friend in our group, but had the wisest mind and the greatest foresight.

Your dad was funny. Your was tall as sh*t. He was so talented and fly. Landon was dope. He was the best friend you could ever have. He listened with both ears and was gifted about knowing if someone wanted advice or just needed to vent. He gave the best advice because he never made anyone feel stupid for whatever they were trying to figure out.

Your dad could dance. I mean he could dance his ass off. That tall and wiry dude would bust a MEAN MOONWALK literally out of nowhere. And after so many bursts of Moonwalk fever, your dad decided to buy an unbelievable large number of pairs of Vans one weekend to support his dancing.

It was like your dad knew everyone on campus. He was the most popular freshman at the time. Everybody Knew Landon Jones.

We debated about everything; music, music videos (because they were VERY important at that time), personality quizzes on Myspace, which year was the best for the Lakers. You name it, your dad could debate it. We watched Pulp Fiction, Dreamgirls, and House Party more times than I've ever seen any other movies since.

Your father could make friends with anybody, but would know them personally and intentionally. He would give his presence and be present. It was really remarkable to watch as the only two out of all our friend groups who were still 17 years old. We snuck into clubs together and partied with our 18-year-old friends because it felt like that's what college was for!

Your dad was brilliant and could learn ANYTHING if you gave him enough time and space. He was determined. He learned how to longboard, and would hop on a friend's longboard all the way to Denny's every Friday morning at sunrise. Friday's were his day when he had no classes at all, so he'd longboard to Denny's with Michael Love and they'd get full as heck on pancakes, then longboard back to the dorms, and sleep all Friday away.

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Your father loved his family. He spoke so highly of your grandmother like a queen. Even when he knew he was flat-out wrong, and even if he would fuss about it, he would always correct himself.

He was the same with your mom. If he would throw a fit, and believe me, your dad could throw a fit-- he would take a walk, pray to God, and come back ready to apologize and listen, for real.

He hated being away from home and would always talk about the pranks he and your grandmother would play on the family. There's a prank they played that involves a police car and your grandmother running and screaming up the street-- every time he would tell that joke, we would all be busting up laughing, literally in tears. He told stories of Uncle B and his sister-cousin Kia. Your dad loved his family in ways I had never seen someone so young love their family. He was deeply invested in the lives of his cousins and elders. He was the first one trying to get home for Thanksgiving that year because he emphasized he could not wait to spend time with everyone (and eat. If you haven't noticed a common theme: your dad loved to get food, think about food, talk about food, make food [often in his dorm with his iron making grilled cheese sandwiches and top ramen with extra, extra hot sauce]) lol).

His friends, his SKRIPPAS, his brothers, his comrades in dance. Your father was devoted to his boys, and made it clear that they were loved, appreciated, and honored. No one could dance better than the SKRIPPAS, and he would make that known, too.

Landon loved a big party. It didn't have to be about anything other than the joy of sharing space with friends, but your dad was intentional about having a great time. Karaoke, slam poetry, rap battles, dance battles, thumb war battles, trips to Jack in the Box... the memories are endless.

Your father was incredible, and I know he would be absolutely elated to see how you have grown. You are 15 and I hear you are brilliant just like your father was. I know he would be proud of how great you are as a big sister and just so proud of your hard work in school.

I missed your Quince, and for that I wish I had more I could offer than just an apology. But please know that I sincerely apologize for missing your special day.

Your father was a great friend to a group of misfit first-generation college students. We all remember him fondly and carry his memory with us everywhere we go.

Feliz Quinceañera

p.s. Here are some pix of your mom and dad from 2006 and 2007