Beach Nov 2016

Jon cont. from page 31
“The first time I saw him I fell in
love, deep, deep love,” she said. “He
became in that moment my beautiful
boy. Honestly, the most beautiful
baby I had ever seen. It wasn’t
for another four years that I would
know my second beautiful boy.”
Angela, a clinical psychologist,
put her career on hold to give as
much attention as possible to her
two boys. This was indicative of the
approach the Bisignanos took with
their family. They lived deliberately.
Gerard, a successful real estate
agent, was elected to the Redondo
Beach City Council when Jonathan
was four.
“I thought, ‘I want to show my
family that being involved, getting
out there, is an important part of
life,” he said. “If we didn’t have children
at the time, I never would
have run.”
Pastor Dan Bradford of Kings
Harbor Church, who baptized
Jonathan at Seaside Lagoon and officiated
at his funeral at Green Hills
Memorial Park, said he admired the
intentionality with which Bisignanos
conducted their lives.
“I can tell you, both are movers
and shakers, but not for sake of
being movers and shakers,” Bradford
said. “They are genuinely invested
in everything they put their
hands and hearts to.”
The fact the boys were given Old
Testament names, the youngest as
the man who would be king and
the oldest as his deepest friend and
protector, was likewise a considered
decision.
“Jonathan's name means gift
from God,” Angela said. “When we
were trying to figure out a second
name for our youngest, there is a
story in the Bible that talks about
how the souls of Jonathan and
David were knit together. We loved
the idea that the souls of our boys
would be knit together. And they
were so close. It was precious.”
As the family looked through
photographs after Jonathan’s passing,
they noticed something striking
about the photos that contained
both brothers.
“There are literally no photos of
my brother where he doesn’t have
his arm around me,” said David. “I
look at those photos and I realize
how much he loved me. So that’s
pretty cool.”
“I don’t recall Jonathan ever saying
anything mean spirited about
his brother, he loved him so much,”
Angela said. “I was really proud
that I raised a son who cared so
much about his brother; that really
warmed my heart.”
Growing up, David said, his
brother was larger than life. Everyone
seemed to know him.
“It was strange for me,” David
said. “I don’t know why, but it’s like
my brother was famous. I felt like I
was the brother of a celebrity. He
just had a huge impact.”
“I was always the kid who had
the coolest big bro,” he said. “Everything
my brother did was the
coolest, that’s just how it was, and
every story I told was about my
brother. ‘Well, my brother…’ Now
it’s awkward. I can’t use those stories.”
Early on, their age difference
meant that Jonathan rarely hung
out with David. But David, who is
now 18, remembers the exact moment
that changed. He was 11 or
12. He and his brother were supposed
to be going to church.
Jonathan drove.
“You know what? Let’s go do
something fun,” he told his little
brother.
They went and got burritos at
Phanny’s in Redondo Beach.
“In my mind, I’m 11, doing something
against the rules — it’s not really
what I did yet,” David recalled.
“That was kind of the breaking of
the barrier.”
After Jonathan went away to college,
he didn’t come home often.
But once, when he was in high
school, David got a call from
Jonathan. He was coming to pick
Jonathan and his girlfriend, Casey Tamkins, whom he met at USC in 2014. His
family believe he’d found the love of his life. Photo courtesy Casey Tamkins
him up from school.
“Man,” David said. “It’s 10:30.”
“He said, ‘I’m comg to pick you
up.’ I just left class, and that was it.”
Jonathan had a gift for brotherhood
beyond his family. Throughout
his life, other boys congregated
around him.
“He was a gatherer,” Gerard said.
“We would wake up on Saturday
mornings and there would be five
or six kids here sleeping on the
floor.”
Savar was one of those kids. He
recalled “a rough patch” when he
stayed for a while at the Bisignano
house.
“Jon provided a safe haven in so
many ways, not just words, wisdom,
comradery, and hugs, but he
sheltered me at times when I
needed it,” he said. “The family was
amazing. They’d see me on the
couch, ‘Okay, good morning.’ Three
days go by, the weekend passes, I
wake up on the couch and they
never gave me a hard time. They
just made sure my head was in the
right place, that I knew hard times
come and go.”
Once when he was staying with
the Bisignanos, the family had plans
to go to Palm Springs to celebrate
Jonathan’s and his grandfather
Flavio’s birthdays. Jonathan asked
Savar to come along; Savar declined,
telling his friend he didn’t
want his heavy mood to dampen
the occasion.
“No,” Jonathan said. “You are
going with me.”
The Bisignanos, realizing their
son needed a vehicle large enough
to haul his constant crew, had purchased
a GMC Denali. It would become
an iconic car among his high
school friends. Jonathan and Savar
drove through the desert in the Denali.
“Jon was one of those people you
could be in a car with for hours and
you are constantly entertained,
never a moment of boredom,” Savar
said. “If there is a quiet point, it’s
because you are contemplating
something you just talked about.
Car rides always went fast.”
Savar didn’t want to talk about
what was bothering him.
“After we get back, dude,” he
said. “Not now.”
“We are not going anywhere with
something weighing on your mind,”
Jonathan replied. “Dude, you know
me. You better tell me.”
And so they talked. And laughed.
And sat and thought, staring out at
the stark landscape, Savar’s troubles
dissipating with each passing
mile.
“We pull into Palm Springs, get
out of the car smiling and laughing,”
Savar said. “All worries were
completely wiped out, gone — not
dormant, but resolved.”
They arrived to Flavio Bisignano
holding court over drinks at the
pool patio, regaling the boys with
tales from his 90 years of living.
Hours later, as they made their way
to their hotel room, Savar paused
and nearly broke down.
“There’s so much suffering and
conflict in my life,” he told
Jonathan. “I just can’t see going on
90 years, another 70 years of life.
32 Easy Reader / Beach magazine • November 10, 2016