Memorial Day has always meant more to me than a free day at the beach and a cook out. My dad, as you may remember, is the Admiral. I grew up with a healthy respect and appreciation for our men and women in uniform. The sight of a family placing flowers at a soldier or sailor’s grave or a cemetery with dozens of American flags flying this weekend can and does bring tears to my eyes. I am deeply grateful to our military and their families every day, not just on Federal holidays.
But for me, this Memorial Day weekend was about honoring a different kind of warrior who lost his life in battle. My friend Chris fought several kinds of cancer bravely, fiercely, but with great humor, for two years. He died last November. His wife chose this weekend, his 41st birthday weekend, to bring his many friends together to celebrate Chris’s life. The weekend included a kite surfing outing, a mountain bike ride, a tradtional church service (except for the surprise playing of Rush’s “Time Stand Still” at the end. The lyrics were perfect. But I still don’t like Rush, Chris.)
The message from Father Burt (who was wearing Birkenstocks, btw. Perfect.) captured Chris well. Basically, it was to live well, to let go, and to be led by love. Chris did all that. And the number of people at his celebration halfway through a 3-day weekend proved that he was loved greatly as well. It was a huge gathering of people who appreciate that they were lucky to have known him.
Now we all have “You are Here” stickers
Chris wore a “You are Here” sticker on his ski helmet, which meant… well… it meant you are here. But to me, now, it also means you are here, right now; it’s not yesterday, it’s not tomorrow, it’s right now. Time to live and love right now. This weekend was a time to celebrate Chris, who couldn’t have known the impact he was making on so many people in so many ways over the years. Even after his death. Chris’s wife, Kathy, says he shows himself to her all the time, in an indescribable sunset, or a breath on her cheek when he likes what she’s saying.
I was going to be late to his church service. I had miscalculated how long my morning (into afternoon) bike ride was going to take because it was so dang windy (Kathy knew it would be windy…. Memorial for a KITE SURFER, hello!?!?!). There’s a climb home that I have a hate-hate relationship with. It’s called Brown’s Canyon Road. It’s long. It has a flat (windy) section in the middle. Then it’s long again. And it almost always sports a headwind as well. Yesterday, we turned onto Brown’s Canyon Road, and the howling in our ears stopped. I have never felt a tailwind that strong or that consistent on that road. I was riding uphill a good two miles an hour faster than I ever have there. At one point, I asked Patrick, who was behnd me, whether he was pushing me. He wasn’t. Chris was. I made it to his celebration With time to spare. No doubt about it, Chris Sherwin, You Are Here.
—————————————–
If you want to know more about Chris, and who doesn’t, here’s a link to a post I wrote in tribute to him last fall. We all still miss him and can’t believe he’s gone. http://wendy.growingbolder.com/that-we-could-all-live-like-chris-did/
Leave a Reply