Still Missing Chris

My best friend, soulmate, and late night bon-vivant, Christine, died in October of 2022.  At that time, I couldn't really understand the scriptural reading, at her funeral Mass. 

"Death where is your sting?" This is from Paul's letter to the Corinthians 15:55.  "Death where is your sting?"  "Are you serious?" I thought.  The sting is in my heart, in the tears in my eyes, and in the lump in my throat blocking my speech. "Death where is your sting?"  "Didn't you feel it, Paul?"

(sigh)

Of course, I'm not that obtuse to know that Paul was referring to the resurrection and not thinking of the physical death of a dear one. Now that I think of it, Paul wasn't there, when Jesus died.  No wonder he could so blithely ask, "Death where is your sting?" 

(sigh)

Again. I'm thinking of a dear one whom I once physically touched, hugged, kissed, and laughed with, and Paul is preaching the Resurrection. The physical world versus the abstract theological world.  It's good thing we humans have both, or we'd be wallowing only in the physical with no hope for anything better.

S-o--r-r-y.  I'm doodling.

I was talking about my friend, Chris, who although she has been gone, for going on three years, I still am reminded of her when I have a spinach artichoke appetizer, a strawberry marguerita--salted, or I see a mutual friend.  I still miss her because I still love her.  Love still lives. 

When she first became sick almost 20 years ago, and she had been gone for a while.  I wrote this poem:

Missing Chris

Happy is he who find a friend and he who speaks to attentive ears. Sirach 25:9

My soul mate, Chris would help with my mess,

over spinach artichoke dip, nachos,

ice tea, girl-talk, dope slaps, and laughter;

deftly would your perspective fix my problem;

snap smooth wrinkled excuses and cobwebbed thoughts,

as we share late night secrets and pray for grace.

 But she became well, not completely healed, but well enough for us to hang out together, again.  She was a football fan.  Living a town away from Gilette Stadium, she cheered for the New England Patriots.  Tom Brady, the quarter back was an obsession.  If she couldn't get to a game, she went to a sports bar right in Gillette Stadium and in that charged atmosphere she watched her team play on the big TVs.  She would have loved the movie '80 for Brady.  This movie is about four octogenarians who love the Pats and Tom Brady just like Chris did.

Myself, not being a fan of elderly ladies talking dirty and acting sexy, I would never have even entertained the thought of seeing the move, '80 for Brady.

Now, if you don't believe in heavenly intervention, then listen up.  The Senior Center had a raffle to go see the movie.  I thought to myself, "OK Chris, if I win, I'll go for you."  

I won a ticket to go. 

I had the best time.  It was "wicked awesome!" Thus, I was inspired to write another poem for Chris: 

Cheering for Chris

My friend, Chris, who loved the Patriots,

       would have wanted to see “80 for Brady.”

And so I went for Chris, to see, to laugh, and maybe

       to lessen the feel of my grief laden cross.

Chris would have howled with laughter,

      and so I watched for the two of us.

Cheering, clapping, enjoying, plus

      thinking of your happiness ever after.

So now is the sting gone?  Depends. When I need a confidant, I feel

 the sting. But when I have a 

spinach artichoke dip, or a margarita, I smile and send love up to 

Chris because love still lives.  Now, another poem is composed: 

Still Missing Chris

Twice this morning I went to text you

about a thought or two, I knew

you would enjoy.  But then.....

Then my mind halted

and I erased my words.

Of course, I know it's necessary to have an ending before you can have a beginning.

But love doesn't end.

That's proof of God, you'd say.

Life goes on for both of us.  Mine is here and yours is there.

But Chris, I can't text you there.

Sure, you can.  No words are necessary

when you speak from your heart.

I finally get it, Paul.  Love doesn't end with death.   Death doesn't win.  Love conquers all.  "Oh Death, where is your sting."