Jon Mayo - a friend, & client.

The world lost a bright, shining light in early October, and I lost a good friend and client.

I met Jon Mayo almost 30 years ago at the opening team meeting for the fabulous restaurant Hawthorne Lane. Neither of us had the credentials to work at a restaurant of that caliber, and we bonded over the fact that the GM had seen potential in us. We felt like we were somehow chosen for greatness by him and we set out to prove him right.

Our friendship was built on shared experiences in the restaurant industry, boozy brunches, and deep conversations about our dreams and visions for the future.

Over the years the time we spent together ebbed and flowed, but every time we saw each other, even if had been years, we fell into a comfortable, vulnerable, authentic conversation as if we’d just been together the day before.

Jon became a coaching client five years ago, and as his coach, I was honored to see him grow and soar. His decision to become a coach himself is a testament to the depth of the transformation he experienced. We covered a lot of ground In our work together, but to me, the most important change Jon made was to anchor in his own wisdom and to allow himself to slow down enough to BE JON and to start to let go of the TV Dad character he thought the world wanted him to be.

Because the real Jon was magnificent.

The photo above is from a weekend we spent together in Palm Springs two years ago. He was in the beginning stages of building his own coaching business, and we spent our days scheming and dreaming again of what the future could hold.

I had a hospice foster dog with me at the time named Dory. Jon fed her bacon and left the door open so she could go in and out as she pleased, and when she jumped in the pool because she lost sight of me when I went underwater, Jon was there to save her life. When Dory died a few days later, he was the first to call and hold space for me while I cried so hard I couldn’t speak.

And that was Jon - Kind. Generous. Optimistic. Loving. Powerful.

On our very first coaching call together, when questioned about his future, Jon said, “I want to go to my grave with as many rich personal experiences as I can have.”

Mission accomplished, my friend. Rest in glorious peace.