Today I was introduced an amazing man.
I’d met him before. Many times,
in fact. But meeting someone and being
introduced are two different things.
When you meet someone, they become a part of your periphery. They become an extra in your life-movie. Rarely do they appear in the credits. Sometimes
the people you meet earn speaking roles – bit parts that appear inconspicuously
throughout your life.
But, other times, when you are introduced to someone, when you really get
to know each other, they become integral characters that have profound
interactions and alter the entire storyline.
He was just a bit part in my life, and I in his. Although we were related through a web of
connections, I only seen him at family gatherings. We said hello, hugged, spoke casually, shared
a few drinks and lots of laughs. We were
Facebook friends. We attended the same
weddings, birthday parties, and Christmas celebrations. But, I didn’t know him, until today.
For countless others who attended his funeral, he played a main role. He had profound interactions. He altered their storylines. Today, through those stories, I was
introduced to Chris.
I spoke with his mother. She was
stoic, but thankful for the outpouring of love shown to her late son.
I hugged the last people to see him alive and thanked them for their
friendship to Chris.
I watched as his siblings and nieces & nephews sat quietly around
the edge of the room, hurting beyond tears.
I heard friends of his, of his wife, of his parents, reminisce as they
looked at photos of his childhood, his family, and his wedding that were loving
placed next to the urn that holds all we have left of his physical presence.
I listened as his step-father, brother, friend and colleague recounted
stories to a crowd about his funny quirks, empathetic heart, and self-taught talents
that knew no bounds.
I learned that Chris was an excellent cook who once created and served
warm spinach salads to his mother-in-law’s book club. I learned that Chris was an accomplished
musician who turned the nonsensical lyrics and tune that his sister-in-law had
stuck in her head into a ‘clever chorus.’
I learned that Chris once sent his wife’s mom a thank you note, telling
her how much he cherished Elisabeth and what a wonderful daughter she had
raised. I learned that he quietly cried
when his autistic brother-in-law became upset for some unknown reason during
Christmas dinner and Chris openly shared his pain. I learned that he carpooled on the train with
the same colleague for over four years, with whom he enjoyed card games, movies
on the laptop, and endless conversations.
She said that, ‘as work husbands go, she knew he was a keeper.’
I heard Chris’ beautiful wife share how he completed her in ways she
never realized she was unfinished. They
ended every call with I love you. He was
constantly looking for a wall plug so his phone didn’t die in case she needed
him. She told Chris he was too good for
her and she didn’t deserve him, only to have him list the reasons she did,
without hesitation. Chris was unsure if
he would ever master any of his talents, because he couldn’t decide which he
loved more and, as a result, divided his time and energy among them all. She was thankful that he never did decide, so
that he could touch so many lives through so many different mediums.
I felt their connection as she stood without him. I listened to the room, to his family and
friends, weeping together as if we were one great heart, breaking together from
the loss of him.
Although I was introduced to Chris today, I wish I’d known him better. I know now that it’s too late.
This realization makes me understand how
silly the small differences between us are, and how important it is to pursue
your passions, to love with your soul, to take an interest in others, in the
world, and in life, and to be introduced to all of our life’s characters.