What Now?
Dear friend,
Why are the roofers banging on the shingles next door? Or, the cardinal testing the weight of the cypress branches as it hops from limb to limb? Do you not know? Have you not heard? The passing of our dear Chris has lead to the heavy presence of absence…….and the world goes on. A man-boy in a suit with haystack tufted hair says, “I’m sorry for your loss” in hush tones which don’t carry the right intonation. He sounds like a character from “Barry” with Bill Haider who is trying on the part and losing in delivery. “Are you twelve?” I ask with a bit of surprise when my thoughts land in the anvil air and hit the floor with a thud. His partner laughs, and I realize I’ve just entered “The Grief Grotto,” a new dance club where dazed and confused widowers and mourners belly up to the bar for an old fashioned with Luxardo cherries.
My story isn’t new. It isn’t even very interesting. But, Chris is/was. (I’m struggling with the grammar of us, we, me and is, was). Many a night, morning, afternoon I’ve written to you, and the words have all been different. Right now, I’m sitting slumped in the “What Now?”
A couple of weeks before Chris died, he did a What Now? podcast episode with Hospice Peterborough which features palliative and bereavement health care professionals. The Podcast found HERE is titled, What Does it Mean to Live a Meaningful Life. Of course this theme isn’t new to you, friend, because Chris preached living fully and loving deeply when and wherever he could sneak it in. It’s like the pinch of nutmeg added to cheese sauce that no one recognizes but makes everyone notice. Before the podcast was released, one of the therapists on the episode sent an email and thanked Chris for his thoughts. Chris shared the note with me, and a quote in the email from author and professor Belden Lane pointed to the essence of who Chris is or was. But, maybe it really is okay to say “Chris is” because he still lives inside of all of us. Today and tomorrow and the next. He doesn’t wear off easily even if the smell of freshly baked bread fades.
Lane says,
What do you learn to ignore and what do you learn to love? What needs to die in your life and what do you need to affirm unreservedly? These two questions are the heart of desert spirituality. The desert becomes a tomb, said the monks, a place for the demise of the ego. But there’s also an immense joy and release in that, in learning to die before you die. You’re finally set free with abandon. No one is freer than those who have looked death in the eye, have walked through the fire, and are able now fearlessly to love.
No truer words are these for you, my dear Chris. You are exponentially free in the midst of the greatest Love, among the monks, and Abi, and can continue to fearlessly love. But what about me or what about us? You charged me with a life of forever being changed by this experience, and I am. I continue to learn how to die before I die and love with abandon. I’ve never been afraid to try. We always spoke of the gift of crisis; a blue papered package with a very crisp bow. It now sits on the glass table, opened and exposed.
So, here are the practical What Now’s:
The link for Chris’ tribute is found HERE. All celebration of life details are listed with additional opportunities for uploading pictures and expressing thoughts. As stated on the site, a live stream of the service will be broadcast for those unable to attend.
Deep Run Park in Richmond, Virginia will have a memorial bench with marker placed in his honor. A tranquil trail sanctuary, which he often shared with family and friends, but especially his beloved dog Carley, provided inspiration for his musings and photographs.
In the future, his ashes will be planted with a living tree to honor his desire to return to the earth and be among Mary Oliver’s trees, especially the willows and the honey locust.
Because Chris was encouraged to publish his blog, there are plans to put his thoughts in book form. This idea is in its very early stages, but I look forward to working on it. I’ll keep you posted.
Father
Thy will is done.
I come undone,
but know he will be
Always With
Faith, hope, love, but the greatest of these is Love.
Much love,
Kathryn
Sad. And weary - of loss, and how truly shining souls who made this world easier to navigate have been snatched from us. So thankful to have known Chris briefly.
Oh! Many prayers will be breathed out in coming days and months for you, Kathryn, and his dear family. There are no words eloquent enough to express. So very sorry.
Kathryn there is no wrong way to refer to Chris - ever. While I am sad that he passed while we were out of the country, it am so blessed to have been able to spend a little time with him at the Cafe’ ( or Chris’ office) a few weeks before. He always had the penetrating questions that made me examine what was holding me back from living fully - now. I loved him as a friend and Christian brother and will cherish the talks we had over time. I love the book idea.