I don't know what to do with death. There's no answer for it, no remedy, no helpful platitude. Death is one of the few things that will not change. We don't live our lives with permanence in mind, rather we live seasonally. Most things we do have seasons. Teething, awkward middle school stage, college, the flu, pregnancy, some relationships. These are all things we know will end at some point. But not death. You don't think an absence can actually have a presence until you've lost someone. There's no explanation for someone you love dying, and it's hard, nearly impossible, to be content with that fact.
These are the thoughts that have swarmed my family and I over the past few days as we mourn the loss of my Uncle Chris. He passed away unexpectedly Thursday, November 6. Though I'm not brave enough to speak at his funeral on Monday, the following is what I would have said in honor of him.
I have always adored Uncle Chris, but Summer of 2013 I had the opportunity to live in Panama City and work for him at the family's Toyota dealership. Over the summer I witnessed Uncle Chris in many contexts: living with his family, joking with his friends, and interacting with his employees. I want to share the qualities that I was able to glimpse more fully while living in his world.
One cannot ignore the way Uncle Chris loved his family. He and Aunt Kim had a precious relationship; they teased, laughed, argued, all with the most obvious affection for one another. As a visitor, I couldn't feel anything but admiration for them and the way they treated each other. Uncle Chris also fiercely loved his children, Kayla, Bronson and Mia, and his granddaughter, Piper. He was always talking about Kayla's sweet and fun way with Piper, or Bronson's talent in his music career, or Mia's last cheer competition. He loved his children's interests because he loved his children, and he wanted them to feel supported in every way. His family felt the freedom of his love, and they loved him freely back.
The love Uncle Chris showed his immediate family spilled over to his friends and extended family as well. I spent many lunch breaks with Uncle Chris, my great uncle, Mike, and one of Chris's best friends, Watson. The way those three harassed each other was always hysterical. Most days it was difficult to finish my meal between spurts of laughter brought on by their antics. Though the trio teased incessantly, they always did so with a loving undertone. Chris's love was also evident in his relationship with his parents, my Granny and Papa. I loved when he visited their house and we would sit and talk and laugh the whole evening. He always brought a pleasant presence into their home.
Chris also extended his love to his employees. I would often see Chris walk through the dealership, headed somewhere to talk business, but stop and chat to one of the salesmen about surfing or sports or movies. He loved to talk. He loved to know and understand the people who worked for him. He was generous to his employees because he wanted to treat them well, not because he wanted applause. Chris worked behind the scenes because he wanted the good of everyone, not just his own good. I saw him give to charities because he wanted to make a difference. Chris wasn't in the business for the fame. He was in the business so he could change his corner of Panama City. And he did change it.
Uncle Chris's absence is heavy on all of us. We will miss his humor, his zeal for surfing, his intellectual conversations, his nonsense conversations, and his love that he bestowed on so many. But God is good, as He always is. He has provided so many friends and family members who have been immensely supportive. My family and I have felt God's love so strongly through His children the past few days; it's been overwhelming. We are heartbroken, but we are not crushed. We are hurting, but we are not without hope because our hope is in something so much more permanent than our own lives. We look to Jesus, His life and death and resurrection, and we find our peace and eternal security.
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