Obviously, Jason is my name, but I wasn’t supposed to be Jason. I was named the second I was born, but it was not just my mother who named me. My name was supposed to be Ethan, but things can change as quickly as the snap of fingers. The name Jason is just a name like any other, it has a literal meaning coming from the Greek language meaning “healer,” or “cure,” but the reason for my name goes down to a much deeper level.
Growing up through elementary school, my mother and her four other siblings were best friends with Jason. From my understanding, Jason was the greatest kid there could be, always smiling with pearly white teeth and staring you down with piercing green eyes and cracking jokes. He was the most fun to be around, and being friends with him was incredible. Jason was practically a 6th child for my grandma. Jason was always over hanging out with my aunt and uncle, who were his best friends. He was always there for them, and they were all great kids.
Growing up through the years, they shared many experiences together, and eventually high school hit. Like many other kids, my aunt and uncle, along with Jason, started to go to parties and started to experiment with unhealthy substances. Again, like many other kids, drugs and alcohol were introduced into their life. Now, they were still the three musketeers, but there was a new addition to the group. Every weekend they would get together and it would be a staple of their time together. Even when they separated for college, they would find a way to get together with each other and spend time together. My aunt and uncle never experimented with substances harder than alcohol and weed, but Jason needed something else. He wasn’t satisfied. He moved on to what he thought was a better high, and he tried heroin.
My aunt and uncle never knew this, and they never did it themselves. Jason would still come over and visit my mother and grandma and the rest of the family, and nobody ever recognized what he was doing. Nobody knew that he was on the needle, and that’s where he had his problem. He didn’t have any help, and there was nobody that even knew, who could help him.
Jason’s best friends, my aunt and uncle, went to surprise him in his dorm one day. However, when they got there, he was on his side with a needle in his arm. Jason overdosed at the age of 20.
The death was devastating for my whole family. They all loved him like a brother, and my grandma loved him like he was one of her own. He left them in pieces, and he left them without a best friend. The great and beautiful kid that they grew up with was gone, and he was never going to come back. His most distinguishing feature was his beautiful green-brown eyes, and he was the only one my mother, aunt and uncle knew who had such amazing eyes.
The second I was born, the doctor held me up in front of my family. My mom’s siblings were all there. My mother looked into my green eyes, and the name Ethan was thrown out the window. The only name she could think of was Jason. My aunt, my uncle, and my grandma looked into my eyes, and they all agreed that Jason was the appropriate name. With many memories and tears exchanged, Jason was my new name.
Still today, my aunt tells me that I am the only person she has seen in her life with eyes like mine, of course other than her Jason.