By Mike Hall, June 27, 2016
Our brother Chris has been gone for more than twenty years. I miss him today as The 4th. of July approaches. I miss his zany sense of humor and the devilish twinkle in his eye. Chris was clearly the most fun-loving of the five boys in our family. You would have loved him in minutes after making his acquaintance. He created incredibly hilarious videos with the help of brother, John. Chris was so talented. I have often wondered what great things he could have accomplished had he found his heart’s true calling.
I had only spoken with him once or twice on the phone since he had moved to Kalamazoo and then San Diego. The last time we spoke was nearly seven years prior to the accident that claimed his life. He told me that things were not going well. Work was hard to find and there was little enthusiasm in his voice. I learned later that he had lived in his car for an extended period and had been shot at and narrowly missed.
Chris had always walked to the beat of his own drum. He played guitar and wrote music. In the 70’s he followed a young guru and traveled to India where he contracted a severe case of dysentery. When he returned, we hardly recognized him. He looked as if his head had shrunk.
His friends would talk of his generosity and how much he loved to party. He had this Samson-like head of hair and a very athletic physique. I’m sure his playing the clown in costume and face paint is still bringing laughs….and tears, to his friends in Kalamazoo.
Chris had a falling out with our parents before leaving Denver. He also was estranged from our sister and older brother. We thought he might have found his calling as a video specialist doing weddings and special events. He had purchased some expensive equipment but the business never took flight.
There are regrets that linger in my mind about Chris. Oh, how I wish I’d have responded differently when he said, “things are not going well,” during our last phone conversation. Now I know I should have asked him if I could have flown out to San Diego to just sit with him and talk. Chris should be sixty-four right now. I close my eyes and see him at his best….vibrant, full of life with that mischievous grin on his face. I cringe imagining his final moments as he plunged from a cliff toward the waters near San Diego. I pray for him….that God cushioned his fall and welcomed him home with a loving embrace. I’m comforted knowing he at least had forty plus years here to touch the many friends that were a part of his life.
I wish he’d have found that special something vocationally to inspire his days. And I wish he could have lived to become a husband and father. His wife and children would have been so blessed by his compassion, humor, and the sensitive eyes that showed his love. We lost a kind and gentle soul when my brother Chris died. His passing reminds me of how true it is that there is only one person in the world like each one of us.
I miss you, Chris. I never told you that I loved you or how proud I was of the you who stayed true to that unique drumbeat in your heart. May we one day be together again so I can hear your laughter and look once more into the eyes of our beloved
clown who left too soon.
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