One year ago, today, I lost a very good friend. I wasn't alone in that loss, obviously, but even still it was a loss to me. Chris did so much good while he was here that I don't even know where to start. I guess the incident that stand out most to me is the time just after my fiancee and I split. Some time went by, and Chris was the first one of my friends to reach and out check up on how I was holding up. That small gesture was incredibly meaningful to me, and I'll never forget it. You see, that's just the kind of guy Chris was. He was always selfless and neutral between friends.
A year ago, I posted a note on Facebook. I didn't have this blog set up yet, but I do now! It seems fitting to post in a, hopefully, more visible part of the internet. You see, each time I write an entry here, I hope that someone shares it. I hope it gets passed around. It's about information, because I don't get a single dime for my writing. This one is especially important to me, because it deals with something that too few people seem to understand: Death as an unbeliever. Often, we concede the comforting of survivors of deceased loved ones to the religion. The religious have the comfort of saying, "Your friend is in a better place." At the surface, those of us who don't believe in an afterlife, let alone a perfect paradise, seem to believe life is short and ends with us being devoured in the ground, decomposing. While we are perfectly aware that when life ends then it's lights out, there is far more to life and death than that. There is way more beauty to be observed in the life than any fictional storyteller could ever fabricate.
With that in mind, I'd like to remember Chris in a way I think he would see fitting. He wouldn't want us to be sitting at the house moping about. He wouldn't want us being torn up that he was gone. He’d appreciate the display of love I’m sure, but ultimately, I think he would appreciate us celebrating his life. Therefore, I’d like to say a few words to remember him by, which illustrate the grand beauty of life:
Things don’t have to be permanent to be meaningful. We have fleeting moments that pass into oblivion that mean the world to us. The first time someone said to you, “I love you.” Maybe. A huge laugh you had with a friend, perhaps. I’d wager the first time any of us rode a bicycle the first time without training wheels will never be forgotten. I may have had an experience so profound that I’ll never forget it, yet I acknowledge I’ll never go through it again. Does that make it less meaningful? Of course not! That moment will live for the rest of my life in my memories! Chris is the same. I’ll never forget him, and he’ll always live on through me. He’s impacted me, whether I know it or not. He continues living through each one of us.
Humans have existed as we know it for approximately 120,000 years. Chris was here for roughly 0.00025% of that. Consider for a second the sheer probability that he was here during the time we were. I can’t even fathom how lucky we were to be touched by his presence. To know that no matter the time of day he’d be there for any one of us in an instant if he was able. We should consider ourselves lucky to have known him for the brief moment we all were in this time and space together. And of course, this goes for all of our loved ones. Don't take the time we have for granted. In the grand scheme of time, it's a blink of an eye.
I fully intend to use the life lessons that Chris taught me to better myself and the lives of those around me. He taught me that friendship is one of the most important parts of life. I will be there for my friends if I’m able. The fact that he was sick and dying, yet was always able to come to the aid of someone who he cared for speaks volumes to me. If Chris can do that, so can the rest of us. I plan to live by his philosophy of love and selflessness from here on out. In the year since his death, I have done this to the best of my ability. I've yet to turn a friend away who needs or wants my help, and I hope you haven't either.
I’m sure some of us have thought this before, but I thought it necessary to say here, in light of his passing. To acknowledge how much he impacted our lives is the greatest service we could ever to such an amazing human being. Selflessness in the face of personal problems over selfishness in the face of personal gain is a much more beautiful way to live. With all this in mind, I remember a wonderful human being.
I'll enjoy a delicious beer tonight. It just seems wrong to remember him without raising a mug.
To Chris Clarke...
