The Jonas Tree: A Light That Keeps His Memory Shining
Pictured: Curt and Sue Chisholm, holding a painting of their son, Jonas.
For 25 years, Curt and Sue Chisholm have found comfort in a cherished holiday tradition that keeps their son's memory close.
Every holiday season, when the lights of St. Peter's Health Foundation's Light a Life tree illuminated the night outside Helena's Civic Center, Curt and Sue Chisholm could see them shining through the front window of their home across the street.
To the community, it was the Light a Life tree. To the Chisholm family, it had another name.
The Jonas Tree.
The name was a tribute to their son, Jonas, whom they lost to suicide in June 2001. In the years that followed, the tree became a cherished part of their family's holiday traditions and a beautiful reminder of a young man whose kindness touched more lives than his parents could have imagined.
A Life Spent Caring for Others
Jonas had a way of making people feel cared for.
While living in Missoula, he worked as a bartender at the Elbow Room, a popular gathering place for college students, truck drivers and people from all walks of life. He was known for his outgoing personality and his willingness to help anyone who needed it.
His parents knew him as someone who was always looking out for others, but it wasn't until after his death that they began to understand just how many lives he had touched.
Following his funeral in Helena, Jonas's friends and coworkers organized a celebration of his life at the Elbow Room over the Fourth of July holiday. Curt and Sue expected to stop by for an hour. Instead, they found hundreds of people gathered to honor their son.
They stayed until 2 a.m., listening as person after person approached them with stories about Jonas.
One story, in particular, has stayed with Sue.
A blue-collar worker recalled stopping at the Elbow Room one evening when he received devastating news that his brother had drowned. Overcome with grief, he sat down, unsure of what to do next.
Jonas noticed immediately.
He approached the man, asked what was wrong and insisted that he come home with him rather than spend the night alone in his truck.
The following morning, Jonas gave the man money to travel home for his brother's funeral. He even gave him a pair of shoes to wear.
The shoes, as it turned out, belonged to Jonas's roommate. Jonas had already purchased a replacement pair.
"That was typical of Jonas," Sue recalled. "He was always helping everybody."
Another woman shared how Jonas had remembered her birthday after she lost her daughter in a car accident. Her daughter had always sent her a dozen roses, and when her birthday arrived, Jonas made sure that tradition continued.
A dozen roses arrived from him.
For Curt and Sue, the stories were an extraordinary glimpse into the life their son had built in Missoula.
Jonas had also pursued his own entrepreneurial ambitions, starting a hot dog cart that served hungry customers after games and late nights out. He had hoped to open a restaurant inspired by Helena's former Coney Island, a dream that reflected his enthusiasm and independent spirit.
He was a young man with friends, plans and a remarkable capacity for caring for others.
Yet, behind the outgoing personality that so many people knew, Jonas was struggling with depression. His parents and friends did not know the extent of his suffering.
When Jonas died by suicide in June 2001, his death came as a devastating shock to those who loved him.
In the days following his passing, Jonas's brother Josh and sister Traci traveled to Missoula, where they discovered that Jonas had left behind five recorded tapes with personal messages for his loved ones. Among them were messages for his parents, his siblings and his girlfriend.
Through those recordings, Curt and Sue began to understand the pain their son had been carrying. Jonas expressed his love for his family, told his parents how much they meant to him and tried to explain the struggles he had kept to himself.
For Sue, hearing her son's voice was simply too difficult. She asked a close friend to transcribe the recordings so she could read his words instead.
The messages offered his family a glimpse into the suffering they had not known about, while the countless stories shared by his friends revealed just how much love and kindness Jonas had given to others.
Twenty-five years later, Curt and Sue continue to remember him not only through their grief, but through the stories of generosity, friendship and love that others shared with them.
A Tree Becomes a Family Tradition
The Chisholms have lived across from Helena's Civic Center for more than four decades.
After Jonas's death, many friends and family members made memorial donations in his honor. Around that same period, the family's connection to the Light a Life tree began.
As the tree shone outside their home each holiday season, it became a special reminder of Jonas.
"We just kind of said, that's the Jonas Tree," Sue recalled.
"To our family, we always called it Jonas."
The name stuck.
Over the years, Curt and Sue continued making Light a Life donations, remembering Jonas and honoring other friends and loved ones who had passed away.
Their grandchildren grew up with the tradition, too. Sue remembers a photograph of five little heads peeking over the back of the couch, looking out the window at the glowing tree.
It became part of Christmas for the entire family.
Friends joined in, making donations and sending memorial cards. Each light represented an opportunity to remember someone special, and for the Chisholms, the tree was a constant reminder that Jonas was still very much a part of their lives.
When the Tree Came Down, the Tradition Lived On
Years later, a powerful windstorm brought down the beloved tree outside the Civic Center.
For the Chisholms, the loss was heartbreaking.
"That's been the Jonas Tree forever," Sue remembered thinking.
But their friends understood what the tree represented to the family and found a way to preserve a small part of it.
That evening, a young woman who knew the family came to Sue's door with a light she had retrieved from the fallen tree.
Another friend brought Curt and Sue a section of its trunk.
They kept the piece of wood in their garage for several years before Sue came up with an idea.
She approached local artist Al Swanson and asked whether he could transform the wood into Christmas ornaments for their family.
He created approximately a dozen wooden hearts, enough for Curt and Sue, their children and their grandchildren.
Each ornament carried a special message:
"Merry Christmas from Jonas, the Jonas Tree."
Today, those hearts hang on the family's Christmas trees, preserving a piece of the original tree and the memories it holds.
Although the original tree is gone, its place in the Chisholm family's history remains.
Twenty-Five Years of Remembering Jonas
This year marks 25 years since Curt and Sue lost their son.
Through those years, Light a Life has offered their family a tradition that brings Jonas into the holiday season, alongside the memories of other loved ones they have honored.
The tree outside the Civic Center became more than a holiday display. It was something their children and grandchildren could gather around, a familiar light shining through their window and a reminder of the many people who loved Jonas.
And when the original tree was lost, the kindness of friends helped the family carry that tradition forward in a new way.
Today, the wooden hearts hanging on their Christmas trees serve as a reminder of Jonas and the generosity he shared so freely during his life.
For Curt and Sue, the tradition continues to be a way to keep their son's memory close, one Christmas at a time.
Through Light a Life, St. Peter's Health Foundation invites our community to remember and honor the people who have touched our lives. Each light is an opportunity to celebrate a life, share a memory and carry the love we have for someone into another holiday season.
