Column Favorites (from Charlotte Parent)

Chris’ Little Namesake

When I was sixteen years old, I fell in love while working at the drive-thru at McDonalds. The male voice over the speaker asked if we had any Barbie happy meals left. Once he got to the window and I turned to see him, my life would never be the same. Chris was sitting in his little red
car, green eyes twinkling with mischief. I teased him about wanting the Barbie happy meal toy and he explained that it was for his Great Grandma who collected them. We both laughed and then there was a moment where you could almost feel the universe click into place. After he pulled away, I told my friend Shannon, that he would be back and sixty seconds later he was. He asked for a date and I accepted.

He was my first love, my first real boyfriend. He was a poet and a student of life and everything around him. He was intense and interesting and I was smitten. I met his family and they were all wonderful. I thought he was the one, as sixteen-year-old girls tend to do. We dated for two months before he broke my heart when he decided to go back to college and back to his college girlfriend.

A few years later, as luck and fate would have it, our paths crossed again. It felt like no time had passed and soon we were a couple again. Ours was a very interesting relationship. It was clear to both of us that we were some kind of soul-mates, but on what road we would end up on was anyone’s guess. We just knew that we loved each other. We would go on a date and end up under a tree, singing They Might Be Giants albums by heart until all hours of the night. We just “got”one another..

It became obvious to both of us that we were looking for different things. We broke up on Valentines Day, 1994 after dating for three months. When I received a message to call his parents, twelve years ago today, I never expected to hear what I heard his mother told me. Chris had died. He had been out for his birthday with a friend and had been drinking. He had driven his car into a tree. He held out for as long as he could in a coma, but there was no hope. They had tried to find me, but he had died that morning. He had turned twenty three the day of the crash.

You are never ready to hear something like that. I was devastated. I remember walking through my life like a ghost, not believing anything was real. I went to the calling hours with my best friend, Jen, and there were so many people, we could not even get inside. When we finally managed our way in, Chris’ best friend, Matt was pushing his way through people to get to me. He had never liked me, so you can imagine my surprise when he grabbed me and held me. It seemed as if no one really knew how to handle it.

Seeing Chris lying in the casket was much more than I could bare. There was a picture collage and on it was a picture of Chris and me. It was truly the hardest thing I had ever been through. The funeral was more of the same feeling of drowning while standing. I could not take my eyes off Chris’ Mom. I wondered how she could stand at all. She was so brave.
After the funeral, while people were saying their goodbyes, Matt came over to me. He said that he remembered the first time Chris met me, so many years before. He said Chris lit up when he told him about me and when Matt asked what I looked like, Chris had answered, “She looks like an angel.” It was the best and the worst thing I could have heard. It filled and broke my heart all at once.

We stood there in the gorgeous cemetery that Chris’ parents had found. More of Chris’ friends gathered with us next to the stream and someone quoted the line from Chinatown that Chris had always said. Something so strange happened-we all started laughing. In that moment, he was there with us. Together, we had found a peace.

I never lost track of Chris’ parents. I would meet up with them for lunch. At one point I told them that when I had a son, his middle name would be Christopher. I am not sure they believed me, but when I met and married my Matt, he already knew the plan. The moment the tech told us that Ryan was a boy, his middle name was already set in stone. Matt was only too happy to remember Chris by naming our son for him. He understood how much it meant to me.

Over the years, I have never stopped talking to Chris’ wonderful parents, Bill and Pat. We see them as often as we can, which is usually once a year. When you’ve known people more than half of your life, when at one point you pondered if they would be your in-laws, you have a closeness that makes them family. I marvel at how they have dealt with Chris’ death and the strength that I still see in Pat amazes me.

The last time we saw them, we were at breakfast. I watched as Pat colored with Ryan and it tore at my heartstrings. Like me, she had two sons. My eyes filled at the thought of losing one of my own and my love for her grew, knowing the kind of strength it would take to survive for the other. Their faith helped them through it all and the love of their family made them strong. They had just celebrated the wedding of their other son, Doug. I saw the happiness in their eyes.

Ryan knows he was named for Mommy’s friend who died. He doesn’t understand the details yet, but I hope that knowing them some day will make him understand the dangers of driving and alcohol. I hope that both of the boys will grow up knowing how precious and fleeting life can be. I want Ryan to understand how special he is to be named after someone who was so full of life that he lived his twenty-three years ten times over.
This time of year my thoughts are always of Chris and his family, which is part of our family now. I told his parents once that naming him Ryan Christopher was less of an honor that I thought it would be. I explained that every time Ryan is in trouble, I tend to call him by both names. They smiled. Being mischievous, it seems, runs in the name. Ryan carries a little piece of Chris forward for all of us