As I write this it is less than 24 hours since I received the news.
A dear friend called me and, through tears and gasping breath, announced, "I think Chrissy is dead". For the next couple of hours the phone calls and text messages quickly escalated till there was no doubt the tragic news was indeed true.
By the time evening had rolled around, I felt like doing something to acknowledge him in some meaningful way. I considered a social media post with some of our pictures together over the years and I thought of doing a video tribute too, but feared, in the emotion of the moment, I would not articulate my point very well so, I chose to write my thoughts down.
Here is the best I could articulate as I sit here somewhere between shock and sadness.
As already widely reported through both the local (Newfoundland) television and radio outlets along with countless social media posts from those who loved him, Chris's talent, kind heart and vibrant personality was obvious to those who had the privilege to know him and that makes me proud.
However, there was another Chrissy too. The one who would ring me up randomly and we would talk about everything from business, sales, music and (without fail) any ladies that were currently in our lives, of course we had to discuss all the details pertaining to that too.
Apparently we also shared a healthy dose of delusion as we had both been quite successful at deluding ourselves about the aging process. We still talked as if we were still "back in the day". He was still in his 20's and I was still in my early 30's, it was awesome and I would not change a thing. I will forever miss those phone calls.
No matter how much our travels separated us sometimes, whenever there was a planned, or chance meeting, we always found ourselves laughing and telling stories like we were continuing a conversation from just a few minutes ago. It is in times like these that I am reminded what a rare and special gift that is.
Together we worked in the music retail business, played in bands, toured the country, found our share of mischief and, through it all, laughed an awful lot. With that said, what I am finding most memorable is the small and, seemingly, simple gestures; we checked in on each other. Not everyday, not scheduled or planned, just whenever one of us felt the need to do so with a "how are ya brother, ya doin' ok?" or, as he often said, "if you need anything don't hesitate to ask, love ya buddy". When I tragically lost my son, he was one of the first to call and I still remember how he said "Stevie, I don't have any words only that if you need anything, at any time, I am here," and how I just knew that I could take those words to the bank. That was Chris.
Gone Too Soon
Through tears, waves of grief, inner voids, frustration and an overwhelming sense of unfairness, life moves forward with or without our consent. The "today" that was the day you heard the sad news, soon becomes the "tomorrow" that you heard the news only yesterday. Then before we realize it, we find ourselves reminiscing and saying things like "can you believe that was 6 months ago?" Like it or not, life and time move on as we are left in the ongoing disbelief that another one of our own is gone too soon.
So Chrissy, we will push on, but we will NOT leave you behind. We will take a piece of your heart with us as we leave a piece of our own hearts with you. Be it the conversations, the songs, the laughs or the hugs, what you gave us will help move us forward and, because of this, we will move through the coming days with a little more appreciation, kindness, compassion and empathy; with a little less competition and a little more cooperation. Another hard life lesson indeed, but maybe you knew we needed it, so I thank you for that.
In the meantime, and in your stead, we'll keep "holding out for a Lucky Heart".
Love ya brother.
Stevie