On July 28, 2010, my nephew, Christopher, died. Just typing those words kills me. He was 8. He would be entering the 3rd grade in 2 weeks. And now he's gone. It's the most unbelievable thing I've ever experienced. Truly. It's unbelievable. Unreal. There is no way this beautiful boy with the greatest smile is now gone.
My heart is broken. Like it's never been broken before. I'm not sure I'll ever recover. I'm so sad. Sad. Sad. Sad. And I feel like it's never going to get any better.
It's not like I talked to him every day. I didn't. But I could have while he was still around. And now I can't even do that.
Christopher and Andrew were buddies. When they would get together it was like they were together every day. Kindred spirits those two. And having to tell Andrew that his best buddy was gone sucked. I don't want to have to do that ever again.
I wasn't going to speak at Christopher's funeral. I didn't feel like I had anything worth saying. My feelings are that when someone speaks at a funeral, it should be something that fills the room with laughter and sunshine, reminding people of the life they're celebrating, not of the death. But that's a lot easier to do when someone has lived a full life and you have several anecdotes that help in relaying how fulfilling a life this person had lived.
But we're talking about an 8 year old. No one has lived a fulfilling life up to 8. No one has lived any kind of life at all at 8 years old.
On the day of Christopher's funeral, I sat up at 5am. All of a sudden, I had lots to say about that handsome little boy. So, I sat down and started writing. And this is what I came up with.
“Cheri’s water just broke,” he tells me when I awoke asking it if was already time to start cooking. “Are you kidding,” I asked him – but in a few more words that I’m not suppose to say in church.
He wasn’t. They were on their way to the hospital. About 6 hours later, Brian called us all at my grandparents’ to let us know – IT’S A BOY!! Christopher Brian Thornton had arrived.
And stole my thunder.
My heart is broken. Like it's never been broken before. I'm not sure I'll ever recover. I'm so sad. Sad. Sad. Sad. And I feel like it's never going to get any better.
Christopher and Andrew were buddies. When they would get together it was like they were together every day. Kindred spirits those two. And having to tell Andrew that his best buddy was gone sucked. I don't want to have to do that ever again.
I wasn't going to speak at Christopher's funeral. I didn't feel like I had anything worth saying. My feelings are that when someone speaks at a funeral, it should be something that fills the room with laughter and sunshine, reminding people of the life they're celebrating, not of the death. But that's a lot easier to do when someone has lived a full life and you have several anecdotes that help in relaying how fulfilling a life this person had lived.
But we're talking about an 8 year old. No one has lived a fulfilling life up to 8. No one has lived any kind of life at all at 8 years old.
On the day of Christopher's funeral, I sat up at 5am. All of a sudden, I had lots to say about that handsome little boy. So, I sat down and started writing. And this is what I came up with.
"When my husband and I were planning our wedding, we decided to have the ceremony in Key West. It was a wonderful idea but for one thing – my brother and his wife were about 6 weeks away from the due date of their second child. So they wouldn’t make the trip to Key West, which was no big deal really. All that travel and 5 minutes later our ceremony was over. The more fun was going to be at the reception/party we had planned in my grandparent’s backyard a few weeks after the wedding. It was to be a casual affair with close family and friends.
The reception was planned for a few weeks before Brian and Cheri’s due date so we all thought for sure we wouldn’t have any problems.
As our wedding gift, Brian – who is a wonderful chef – and Cheri gave us the gift of food. They had all the food for the party taken care of and Brian was set to spend ALL DAY preparing it. It was the best laid plans …
My brother has a problem that my husband and I like to call “excessive compulsive”. There was enough food for all of Denton – and probably all of Caroline County – and that wouldn’t have posed any problem for Brian to prepare. If Brian were going to be there to prepare it.
The night before the party, we were at my grandparents’ house getting set up for the party. Brian had plans to get up early (around 7) to start cooking. At this point, we were about 3 weeks from their due date. For anyone else, this wouldn’t have caused any stress. However, my sister-in-law had a history of giving birth 3 weeks early AND while my uncle, who was living in L.A. at the time, was in town. The joke over and over the night before the reception was “don’t you steal my thunder, Cheri!” “Don’t you have that baby tomorrow!”
We stayed at my brother’s the night before the reception. At 3:45am Brian came downstairs and had a bit of a hurry-up to him.
“Cheri’s water just broke,” he tells me when I awoke asking it if was already time to start cooking. “Are you kidding,” I asked him – but in a few more words that I’m not suppose to say in church.
He wasn’t. They were on their way to the hospital. About 6 hours later, Brian called us all at my grandparents’ to let us know – IT’S A BOY!! Christopher Brian Thornton had arrived.
And stole my thunder.
Last summer, my mother and I took Christopher and my older son, Andrew, to the beach for the day. I’ve always said that Andrew is a fish, but seeing Christopher on that beach, in that water – it was like he was home. He had absolutely no fear. And those two boys played in that sand – digging holes – and played in that surf – ALL DAY. Andrew is 2 years younger than Christopher so he wasn’t as fearless with the waves – until after about an hour with Christopher. They were jumping in those waves, riding them back to shore. The first time Andrew successfully rode a wave back to shore, he shouted, “YES!! I DID IT!!” And I can still see the sense of accomplishment on Christopher’s face. He and Andrew were one – like brothers now.
As my husband and I were putting together the pictures on the magnetic board last night, we noticed that most of them were of Christopher and the ocean. Out of 25-30 pictures, 20 of them are of Christopher either outside or at the beach or in the water. I was reminded of a quote from John F. Kennedy that I thought summed up Christopher perfectly. He said,
“I really don’t know why it is that all of us are so committed to the sea except I think it is because in addition to the fact that the sea changes and the light changes and ships change, it is because we all come from the sea. And it is an interesting biological fact that all of us have in our veins, the exact same percentage of salt in our blood that exists in the ocean, and, therefore, we have salt in our blood, in our sweat, in our tears. We are tied to the ocean. And when we go back to the sea, whether it is to sail or to watch it we are going back from whence we came.”."
It's all I could come up with. And it doesn't even scrape the surface of how wonderful that little man was.