- Jasen Morin
Jasen J. Morin, 42, passed away suddenly and unexpectedly at home on Monday, September 4, 2017. A celebration of Jasen's life and friends will be held on October 7 at Tangletown Farm in Glover, Vt.
Written by his dear friend Jeremy Patrissi
Jasen Morin remains the most authentic person I've ever met. Even when he authenticity derailed his train, he remained original and indifferent to the hardships. In fact, he would often meet life's challenges with tenacity in what I can only describe as a game of chicken. Jasen was stubborn, unrelenting — a show of moxie standing up to icebergs only he had the desire and will to endure. He didn't always win, but he always picked himself up.
Jasen grew up in our little estuary in Vermont in a time that helped foster the thespian in him. Everyone who met Jasen would be immediately drawn to his inviting, sweet smile and his soulful, loving eyes. His eyes looked as though they had seen a million lifetimes. They were so kind and forgiving, and his smile made everyone gravitate to him. He was easy, and he made you feel easy. I'll always picture him in his tie, short-sleeve white button-up shirt and khaki pants onstage singing Billy Joel his senior year.
Jasen was passionate and funny. He would say the most unmentionable things so casually, and, in that moment of disbelief and laughter, the two of you would exchange a moment of uncanny joy and companionship because he helped you discover something about yourself.
I don't know exactly what was the author of the pain he suffered from, but it haunted him early and was long-lasting. Jasen was a torrent when he was courting addiction. He didn't do anything halfway. But we loved him for just that — for his loyalty, his willingness to at any minute go with you anyplace, anywhere. When he had peace with himself, there wasn't a more kind human being. Utterly selfless and devoid of any pretense and genuine every minute, Jasen never, ever aspired to be anything but himself.
He was always fully present when you were in his company. You could count on Jasen to tell you what he thought, and he had an intelligent mind to be a great resource for anyone.
During his career in mental health as a social worker, he opted for the most difficult case I've ever known. He handled it with panache and, as usual, total heart. I was in awe. He was equally adept in the kitchen, where at anytime you could show up unannounced and he was only too happy to make you food from his kitchen and be fully present with you. He was a chef by trade and had just completed a degree in sustainable agriculture.
Jasen made a difference in everyone's life that had the good fortune to meet him, and that's why it's so hard to think that we won't have access to his authenticity, his acceptance, his unconditional assuring embrace and his particularly twisted, wonderful humor. He was lovely and beautiful.
He embodied the human condition and exemplified so very much. I wanted more time with him. I'm so angry he is gone so early, and I can't imagine the void he left for his family and friends.
If there is an afterlife when we pass, I hope Jasen will be right there to meet me when I cross over.
Jasen leaves his daughter Aliya McDonald of Tucson, Ariz.; stepdaughter Vivian Crowley of Carrboro, N.C.; mother Tina Desmarais and stepfather Rick Desmarais of central Vermont; grandmother Lucy Pridham of York Beach, Maine; father Paul Chadwick, stepmother Kristin Chadwick and little brother Camden Chadwick of Cape Neddick, Maine; and aunts, uncles, cousins and more friends than anyone I've ever met.