The funeral's over, but I have yet to say goodbye

Christopher's funeral was this morning.

I went with my friends Jeremy and Brianna. True to his word, Jeremy was right there beside me the whole time. The car ride from Portales to Clovis was fine, but when we got to the church and I saw the hearse, it hit me.

This was real. It was really happening. He's really gone and not coming back. That's when the tears started.

We went inside, and Jeremy, seeing the tears and the look on my face, grabbed my hand and led me through the sanctuary, past the coffin, and to the lobby, where we sat on the couch and I sobbed.

Everything I saw, the pictures of him, his guitars, his family, it was all so heartbreaking. I heard people speak of how wonderful he was. He was so loved.

I will always cherish every memory I have of him, but there are two that stand out more than the others. The first is this:

Last year, I found his Myspace music page, A Bruce Lee Moment (he loved Bruce Lee). I listened to the music, and fell in love with it....it's different. I like different.  When I saw him at play rehearsal, I told him I liked it and that I'd like to have a copy of his CD. He said he'd thought he'd sold out, but he'd look for one. I didn't mention it again, and two weeks later, he strolled into the theater, right up to me, and handed me a copy of the CD. I was so pleased he would remember that, and, like I do every time I get a new CD with music I really like, I listened to it over and over.

The second:

One day we woke up to a beautiful, snow-covered campus. It was a playwriting day, and it hadn't snowed enough to cancel classes. After the class, he and I and Jeremy and a few others hung around talking, as we usually did. Christopher and I always headed the same direction, to the CUB for lunch, afterwards. We started walking, the two of us, and I suggested going through the Liberal Arts Building, as it was snowing pretty hard by that time. As we entered, he suddenly got spastic, said "stay there, don't move," and darted out of the building. A few minutes later, he rushed back in, carrying an umbrella, and said "let's go." I can still hear his voice saying that. We walked through the building, and across campus, shoulder to shoulder under that umbrella. He made sure I got the most coverage. And he made fun of my shoes, which weren't compatible with snow.

I haven't been able to say goodbye yet. We walked past his coffin on the way out of the church and I saw him one last time, but it wasn't him. Not anymore. But I still think he's watching us....laughing at us really.

The other day, Jeremy and I met in the studio, where we spent so much time with him. There's a faulty light in there, and just as I sat down, it started flashing. "Thanks, buddy." Then, as we sat there remembering, laughing at memories, the door to the studio, which is supposed to be held in place by magnets, swung shut. We left the studio in a flash, and we tried to get the doors to stay open, but the magnets just didn't work. We gave up for awhile, but as the other students walked in, Jeremy tried again. I said "Christopher, keep the door open." Jeremy opened the door and the magnet held.

Today at the funeral, the pastor talked about Christopher's favorite food. When he said his favorite desert was pineapple upside-down cake, I gasped through my tears. Sunday afternoon, the day he died, the day before I knew, I made pineapple upside-down cake.

I made a momento in ceramics class, just a small square brick with the Zia symbol, which is on his CD cover, a sign of beloved homeland, on it. Jeremy and I will visit his grave sometime next week and I will leave it there. I think then, I will be able to let go, say goodbye.

Of course, I certainly wouldn't mind the thought of him as one of my guardian angels, looking out for me. That wouldn't bother me in the least.