Friends, family mourn loss of 16-year-old boy with fire, stories

Shakopee Valley News

A small fire pit spits out sparks and smoke in front of Susan Moffett's home in Shakopee.

The fire has been burning since yesterday afternoon, when Moffett learned her son, JaMason Moffett, died in a car crash. Since then, the fire has been continually fed with food, tobacco and wood.

Keeping this fire burning until the burial is an tradition for the Ojibwe. It's spiritual — the fire represents the creation of the universe, the soul, the center of the earth and more — but it's also physical, a gathering place to mourn and give offerings of food and tobacco to the deceased.

Since Thursday evening, strangers and friends have come to Moffett's home with food or flowers and to swap stories about JaMason.

"Right now, I'm kind of living every parent's worst nightmare, biggest fear — but I'm overwhelmed with the love and support I've been getting from everybody," Moffett said.

Students of Shakopee High School, where JaMason went to school, stop by with so many flowers that Moffett has two storage containers filled with bouquets. A stranger who lost a child brought Moffett armloads of wood in the early hours of the morning.

Friends and family sit around the fire and in a circle inside and talk about JaMason, about how goofy he could be or his signature neon sunglasses that he had popped the lenses out of.

He even wore the sunglasses for the picture on his driving permit. He didn't for his driver's license, but the office messed up the picture anyway.

"His first ID came back and his name and address and everything was right but it had the picture of a 60-year-old white man," JaMason's uncle Mike said. "I never laughed so damn hard."

When he was a child, Moffett put a lock on the door to keep her very energetic son from running outside to a little park nearby.

"He was well-known within his classmates and friends," Moffett said. "That's pretty obvious from the groups of kids that keep coming and they're all different types of groups. What I keep hearing from them is he was a person to try and include everyone and bring happiness to them and make them laugh."

Friends and family both said JaMason had a self-confidence that defied the stereotypical teenage boy.

"Whatever it was, he just had so much faith in himself and he never underestimated himself," his friend, Brien Lett Jr., said. "That's just how he always was."

JaMason also loved his family unabashedly, his uncle and mom said.

"He was definitely a kid that loved me and he wasn't ever scared to say that in front of his friends, even as a teenage boy," Moffett said.

JaMason was friends with a variety of people and brought those people together regardless of race or class or anything else, leaving everyone a piece of himself and his personality — he was a "genius," but also played lacrosse and went through Xbox gaming binges. He was good with his nephews. He was mischievous, but kind-hearted. He was 6-foot-1 but hoping to grow to 6-foot-4. He hated cheese. He was often complimented on his beautiful eyes and great smile.

"Some of these kids I know he knew from kindergarten, preschool, daycare and some he just met this year," Moffett said. "It didn't really matter whether they met this year or last week. Last night, they shared a lot of different stories and it was really emotional. A lot of different emotions — there were tears, but there's a lot of laughter too."

Moffett said the stories about JaMason are helping her cope. She said anyone is welcome to sit around the fire or stop by the home and share their experiences.

"The one thing that we just hope is that people will go forward with love and love each other," Moffett said. "JaMason brought happiness to so many different people — pay that forward, bring other people happiness. Maybe that was his weight here on Earth, to teach us how to bring people together and love each other."

The family is organizing a service in Shakopee, though JaMason will likely be buried in southern Minnesota, where his mother is from and father and half-siblings live.

Until then, the fire will burn.