Dear Mom,

What's up.  Sorry I haven't been writing much but it's a hassle to find time and send it out on the right day with our busy body schedule.  I'll try harder.  The past weeks moved by kinda slow but I noticed yesterday is my one month.  It's funny how bad I thought one month at caron was when I had all these awesome things like a cafeteria, shower, clean clothes, etc.  My clothes are filth and I reek.  I shower with a bucket of water once a week.  Some guy ben just came from adult program, told us his story and played guitar for us -- the first music I've heard.  I really like the last letter you sent especially the pic of dudley and Ginny wearing matching sweaters.  Do you think you could send pics of me?  I haven't seen my face in a month and I could use a funny pic to brighten my day.  Oops I gotta go so write back, love and miss you.  - Christopher

Written by my son's friend, Jenny, February 23, 2014:

"One summer night, I received a call from Chris - he was hanging out somewhere in my neighborhood and was wondering what I was up to.  I told him that I was kind of sick and didn't feel like going out, but that he was welcome to come over.  An hour later, I opened the door to him holding a bag filled with soups, tea, candy, and bubbles - one of the nicest gestures any one has ever done for me, especially since I had not seen him in a while.  Over a midnight feast, we recollected all the good times we had shared, talked about where we were on our journey, the obstacles we had overcome, the visions we had for ourselves.  We expressed our appreciation for each other and the friendship that had sustained us through all the years ever since seventh grade when we were in the same Spanish class.  The depth of our conversation was, naturally, also laced with many laughs and jokes...I revisit this night many times in my mind, as it is my last memory with him.

     I've had a myriad of great times with Chris; anything and everything was an unpredictable adventure with him, from daily walks to the shopping center, parties and outings, gettting food, and visits from him at UVA.  Never was there a dull moment.  There are countless stories that I could attempt to share through words, but language is so limiting and there is nothing, as I am sure many others would agree, in the world that could do Chris' spirit, energy, and heart any justice.  He could make me laugh until every muscle in my body would hurt, until I was begging him to stop being so goddamn funny because I couldn't breathe.  But of course, I never actually wanted him to stop.  His humor is unparalleled, unmatched, and everlasting, as reminiscing about my time spent with him will forever bring me laughter and joy.  My being overflows with gratitude for having become good friends with Chris.  The way he effortlessly lit up a room, a face, a life by simply being himself, is truly inspirational."

Hi – I’m Anne and I’m the mother of an addict, an amazing, incredible addict.  If you think people in recovery are lazy, dumb, worthless criminals, then think again.  Wake up every day and say to yourself, “ One day at a time.  I can survive this intense craving.  I will not give in.  I will dig myself out of this hole.  I will attend a meeting.  I will find a friend to support me. How can I avoid the many triggers that will light up my brain to use? When will my brain ever feel “normal” again?  Why has my brain turned against me? I’m so tired of fighting this constantly.  I just feel like giving up.  Nobody really cares anyway.”

Dealing with addiction is like trying to outrun demons. The faster you run away from them the faster they run toward you.  If you’ve managed to stay clean, the demons are doing push-ups and waiting, waiting.  Christopher was exhausted outrunning the demons every minute of his day.  His own body was at war with him.  He could be at home anywhere in the world, but not in his own mind.  Life is at its hardest when the mind is at war with itself. 

How does addiction start and why do drugs grab some so fiercely that they crave it like water on a hot August day?  In my adolescent son’s case, it was a mixture of a brain hardwired for drugs and depression, a lack of sufficient dopamine to promote wellness, combined with risk-taking peers, an immature brain and a lack of support during his darkest times. His depression was a tough one to deal with because he needed to take medicine to correct the chemical imbalance in his brain.  So it was a constant pull of take drugs to treat clinical depression, but don’t take the drugs that will kill you but take you out of your depression.  I don’t think any other disease is quite like that.  He found heroin before anti-depressants found him.  He thought he’d hit the jackpot, but he was just opening Pandora’s box to years of suffering leading to his death.

How do you deal with your addiction?  First and foremost, please forgive yourself.  After forgiveness, learn to love yourself, proudly be you.  Don’t conform to someone else’s idea of who you should be.  Follow your heart’s calling.  I used to give Christopher pep talks on how gifted and special he was.  His response was, “You’re my mom so you have to say that.”  But really, he was.  He had more compassion and ability to reach other human beings than anyone else I’ve ever met.

After forgiveness, help others.  Christopher was the master of reaching out to anyone, anytime, for any reason.  Ralph Waldo Emerson said, “It is one of the beautiful compensations of this life that no man can sincerely try to help another without helping himself.” My Boo, as I called Christopher since he was a toddler, had such a desire to reach out to others.   At the beginning of his adulthood, he was building a successful massage therapy career with his beautiful, healing hands and his tender heart.  Even in the hospital, hooked up to too many useless machines, his hands were perfect.    

To further build your strength to fight addiction, you must also accept responsibility – own up to your mistakes – Christopher understood this and sought to reassure us that fighting addiction was his problem and no one else was to blame.  That is a great life lesson for all of us – take 100% responsibility.

Seek out and study mindfulness and meditation.  These are two powerful tools that can help you to take it “One Day at a Time” and bring clarity to your thoughts.  When I was around 13, I put a quote on my dry-erase board that I kept for years as part of my meditation as a teenager. It read, “Don’t pray for an easy life, pray to be a strong person.”  I never imagined how that would be put to the test. 

When a child is suffering, Mama is suffering too.  For over six long years we struggled together with so many visits to doctors and administrators, so many visits from the police, so many times watching the physical pain ravish your brain, deceptions, attacks and rehabs.  I have listened to Mary J. Blige over and over as she sings, “I’m so tired. No more drama in my life, I’m not going to hurt again.”  My only peace is knowing that you are no longer suffering.

I hang on to the moments when we could feel fully free.  Just the two of us riding 4–wheelers in the desert of Southern Utah or driving through the rain forest of Puerto Rico with the top down, singing Queen’s Bohemian Rhapsody, bobbing our heads violently. Or the brief freedom we felt, along with Ginny, on our trip to Key West, driving our rented convertible from Miami over the 40+ bridges of the Florida Keys, exhilarated by the healing water and sky all around us. 

After your stay in Utah, I arranged to get the pug puppy that I promised you. You, Ginny, Ty and I piled into my Pathfinder on a glorious Saturday to meet a simple, old country man much like your Pappy in the parking lot of a McDonald’s just outside of Front Royal.  He opened the back of his little hatchback and there was an adorable litter of pug puppies – heaven!  You chose the healthiest and cutest one in the bunch and insisted on naming him “Manly”.  I paid for him in cash and we headed for home.  As you sat in the passenger seat, riding shotgun next to me and snuggling your new puppy, you remarked, “That was sketchy!”   

My last visit with you was just a few weeks before your death at a group family therapy session.  As I was getting ready to leave, I hugged you and you gave me one of your best big bear hugs.  I said, “I love you” and you said, “I love you too.”   We both knew the pain you were feeling.  Life felt so incredibly fragile.

For now, the greatest comfort for me is just to be, no words needed.  The American poet, Philip Levine, expressed the idea of silence in one of his poems, “He Would Never Use One Word Where None Would Do”.

At the end of it, he writes:

Fact is, silence is the perfect water:
unlike rain it falls from no clouds
to wash our minds, to ease our tired eyes,
to give heart to the thin blades of grass
fighting through the concrete for even air
dirtied by our endless stream of words.

My last thought comes from my dear friend Onalie Arts, a massage therapist in Massachusetts who practiced at one time in Great Falls, Virginia.  She shared this with me in a letter:

“Today may there be peace within. May you trust that you are exactly where you are meant to be. May you not forget the infinite possibilities that are born of faith in yourself and others. May you use the gifts that you have received, and pass on the love that has been given to you. May you be content with yourself just the way you are. Let this knowledge settle into your bones, and allow your soul the freedom to sing, dance, praise and love. It is there for each and every one of us."

I think this is what Christopher, my precious son, would have wanted for this world.

...usually it's because life sucks!   - from a card that I bought from American Greetings headquartered in the great heartland state of Ohio (Mama A's birthplace).

Luke Ford, I hope you can hear me.  You were my son's close friend in boarding school in Utah.  You struggle in so many ways as my Chris did.  You are fighter.  You are stronger than you know.  You have so much to offer this world.  Christopher would be devastated were he here to know that you were in an awful car accident just days ago, fighting to survive on top of all of your other battles to just survive.  

I know life was not meant to be easy, but why, oh why, do some get tested beyond any reasonable measure?  So many people who love you Luke are holding you up in their arms and hearts.  Pull through buddy, pull through.  Please.  Love you.

Elizabeth Thoburn Fitch (posted on Facebook 3/2/14)

One year ago today, Pender United Methodist Church in Northern Virginia held an astounding memorial service for our Christopher, my nephew. The large church was full of people, over 400 persons whose lives were touched by his remarkable spirit. People from every walk: his family, cousins, grandparents, Uncles and Aunts, school teachers and principals, addicts in recovery or not, his many old friends and new. They stopped whatever they had planned for that bitterly cold Saturday, and they came to mourn and to celebrate a young life that had profoundly changed theirs.

Christopher's legacy, though, was only beginning. The service itself, the reception after, with greeting lines the length of the large fellowship hall; the photos, the videos, and recovery information, were all more powerful than any meeting or seminar. His dad Mark and sister Ginny's anecdotes, his mom Anne's honesty about their struggles with the disease of heroin addiction, the laughter of hundreds of people through thousands of tears, left a mark on my mind and a living memorial in my heart.

Yet it was not the end. In the past year I have seen Anne, Ginny, Mark and dear friend Allison get up from deep mourning and get to work. The Chris Atwood Foundation is a thriving reality. While our Christopher lives on in our hearts as all loved ones do, he also still changes hopeless lives, as he once did; he still reaches beyond himself and finds and touches hearts and minds that he never knew.

The work is hard. It is exhausting, as recovery was for Chris. But God is doing something amazing and wonderful.

[above title is from Chris' journal at Sagebrush February 2013 just weeks before his death.  His goals in his own words:]

I'm already feeling a bit anxious about missing out on life while I'm in here.  I know I would be wasting even more life if I were home, but still can't help the feeling.  To ease this I need to feel I'm progressing in something more than just rehab sobriety.  Goals are to do more for my physical state than I was doing at the YMCA at home, though my equipment is MUCH more limited, my time, energy and motivation are beyond previous levels.  They have a guitar here and I intend to take advantage of that.  Music is a piece of my life that's been missing for far too long and with it will come a sense of fulfillment I haven't experienced since 16.

[no corrections made to original text]
Aspen Achievement Academy 4-30-2008 Capitol Reef, Utah
Student Name:  Chris Atwood

Dear Ginny

I'm glad your still writing.  poor studly duddly munching on fertalizer because he wants to grow, we all learn from our mistakes eventually, hopefully dogs do it quicker.  Of course theres no girls here!  this place isnt laid back like that.  Ive got a hot coco packet and they wont let me make hot chocolate. theres alot of dinky shit rules that keep this from being a camping trip.  I bathe once a week with a couple quarts of water behind a rock but whatever when I do it my shadow tells me my butt is large from hiking and that makes me feel better, plus the perma dirt on my hands make me look black as a mother fucker.  finally! the black man in me is free.  oh whats cool is I found out you can send pics in the email and they'll print 'em for me.  Send some funny memories of you and me in your next letter please it would be awesome, have a good week too.  love, me

 10:46am, 12/4/13 


Anne Atwood
:  I was lucky to get to meet you and am still interested in your art and would like to see more...











 ANON: Anne darling! I'm so glad you messaged me I have been trying to find the right time to message you or email you and I've been checking my emails every day since we met. I am so happy we met. You were a sign from the universe and I don't take that lightly. I have been thinking of our meeting and my little break down quite frequently. I would love to show you my art work, In fact there are a few pieces I've been working on that I started the times I was using and now that I've been clean I am finishing them. They are very dark but they show a lot of emotion and truth. I think you would find them interesting as they might be what your son was probably feeling when his addiction had took a hold on him like it did me. Again, I am so sorry for your loss. I really respect and look up to you for having such great energy and an overall hopeful presence to you. I will never forget, Chris' friends breaking down in my house as they found out the terrible terrible news… Ironically I was in my room shooting up right as that was happening in my living room.. And they all had no idea what I was doing to myself next door. After your son passed multiple friends of mine tried to talk to me and shake the addiction out of me and saying, "our friend just overdosed and you can be next". And I got help a couple months after that incident. Thank you for sharing what you shared with me a few days ago. And I'm sorry if I have shared to much about myself with you, but if there's anyone who understands this I'm sure it's you. Again, I am so sorry for your loss. 


 AA: Me too.  I was so looking forward to him continuing to grow and get better and healthier.  I'm a personal trainer and he was a massage therapist.  I told him a year ago that he should also get his personal trainer certification and he laughed and told me I should get certified as a massage therapist.  I was hoping to partner with him in health for the rest of my life.  Sigh...












ANON: Oh god that hurts my heart. I can't express how sad that makes me, for a mother to have to think about what the future could have been for their own child- their creation, their gift to the world. I'm sure my parents have had those thoughts and feelings too. "If only" is all we can think now, and that is the hardest pill to swallow. Thank you for sharing all that you are with me, a mere stranger- but in the same breath, one in the same as your own son.

AA: Thank you for caring.  Our sadness is what makes us truly human.  You are a gift to this hurting world.  Don't EVER forget that...xoxo Mama A











ANON: 
That means so much to me, you have no idea. And your son is very handsome and from what his friends said about him, he seemed like a fantastic and funny guy, to say the least. And if he is anything like you, which I'm certain he is, then he was a warm hearted, genuine, sincere, and beautiful soul. No one understands how hard this addiction is. And no one understands how serious and what a hold it can take until we are gone. Thanks again. Love always, anon 


Christopher's two years at Terraset Elementary in Reston for 5th and 6th grade were great.  He loved his teachers and fellow students.  

What he loved the most was dancing.  Chris got the chance to dance his heart out at the 6th grade graduation party that his mama chaperoned.  I caught each moment of the dance competition.  

First the girls, and they sure could dance and scream!  Then the boys.  Chris had to go two rounds against some real talent to reach the finals.  Competition was stiff, but the other boys literally gave up!  Then Chris had to dance to "The Twist" with the female champion.  She was great and ready to compete - so was Boo.  He poured his heart into his dance, already gasping for breath from the previous dances.  Mama was videotaping every precious moment.

Chris won!  As the DJ said, "This kid has got the goods!"  

Indeed. 

Chris,
I know it's been a while since we last talked, but I've thought about you countless times since I moved away.  My love for you has never wavered.  I know the last time I saw you, I told you how much you meant to me - that hasn't changed and it never will.  You know, I hope, how profound of an effect you had on my life.  In so many ways you challenged me, frustrated me, showed me how to worry, love, and hurt all at once - while smiling.  Your memory, our memories will rest in the back of my mind until I can no longer recall my own name -- and the pair of your boxers (why do I have them!?) that I've had since the beginning of high school, have suddenly taken on so much more meaning than I ever thought possible.  I wish I could return to you and hug you one last time, share one more laugh, enjoy one more phone call, one more cold night in my room talking until sunrise when my dad wakes up, one more dance at one more ridiculous basement party.  I have never known what it meant to have to say goodbye to someone who was among one of the people in my life that I really truly loved - not in a nostalgic, romantic way, but in the concrete - I told you I loved you for as long as I knew you and I meant it every time.  I wish so badly that I would have seen your enigmatic energy finally find a healthy outlet - you would have changed the world.  But - you did.  You changed the lives of so many people - touched so many souls. You are truly the definition of a legend and maybe when Robert E. Simon hugged you, some strange transferrance occurred because I swear to God - you ARE Reston.  This town will never, ever be the same place without you.

I love you so much.
                                     - Morgaine

 

This picture of Christopher with Daria and Jenny at Mark's house is from the 'Made With Love' book from Boo's Reston friends.  Daria writes:

'I had the pleasure of experiencing Chris's massage skills before his certification.  However this picture illustrates how Chris was always willing to lend a hand to help others or make others happy.  This was his greatest speciality among others.  I'm glad to have known him and he will always live in my heart and countless others.  Love always, Daria'  

I loved you so much back at Langston Hughes, you made me contemplate whether I wanted to even have crushes on girls anymore...from the days when we were 13 and we'd walk home to Jenny's rapping Diamonds In My Mouth to hopefully start our rap careers to lifting iron at the Y together this past summer, you were a phenomenal friend who always taught me to smile, laugh, and to always stay awake in Latin class so you could have someone to make goofy faces to... R.I.P. Chris Atwood 

Kevin Matthew

2/24/13 Facebook post

(Hey Kevin - please post your picture with Chris to this story!  And thank you from the bottom of my heart for sharing on FB! - Mama A) 

This picture and caption is from the book created by Christopher's forever friends in Reston.  Summer 2012 at Ashley's house in Vienna --  She writes in response to the question, "How good did the massage feel?":

"He came to my pool party and brought his massage chair [that his mama gave him] this summer.  He gave Alex and me one of the best massages ever.  Then he volunteered to be the target for a tomato fight."  

Mama A says:  That's my boy, always making others feel good and taking one for the team.  Six months have passed since we had to say goodbye and people who don't even know you are using intensely positive adjectives to describe your family -- strong, incredible, amazing ...  What they are really describing is you Boo.  We tried so hard to make you believe how special you were and still are.  Love you forever and ever.

From Reza, 3/2/13:

"Chris, You were my "sex panther", "bug-a-boo" and the guy who saved my life.  If it weren't for you, I would've never stumbled into the rooms of N.A.  From working in Fair Oaks, to "free" meals at Boston Market, you've forever etched your memory into my life.  In recovery they say that, sometimes, we have to walk over bodies to stay clean.  Unfortunately, I'll have to walk around yours as a life not lost, but one whose life will be told, and probably save lives.  Good bye dear friend.

I love you, Reza Hashemi"       

I met Reza for the first time in the emergency room of Fair Oaks Hospital in January of this year.  Christopher had overdosed, but Ty and Reza discovered him at home in time to call 911 and save his life.  The next month, in spite of Ginny's heroic efforts, it was too late.

As a mother, it would be so easy to dismiss others addicts as enablers to my son, but that would be missing the bigger picture.  All addicts are struggling and want to be free of the chains of addiction.  After the drug gets a stranglehold, it is no longer a party and it sure as heck ain't fun.

Christopher wanted desperately to break free of addiction's bonds and help others do the same.  He was struggling to do just that earlier this year.  He just never got much of a chance.    

OMG so many wonderful childhood memories of the family farm in Eastern Ohio.  In this video Christopher was around 9 or 10 so I think this is the Summer of 2001.  This time in my life as a Mother I call "the golden age of childhood".  Motherhood was a total joy 95% of the time (and a heck of a lot of work that I loved doing).  Ginny was breezing through middle school thanks to her rock solid friends and cousin, Allison Byers, Katie Ernst and Amanda Thoburn.

Even at this age, Christopher showed signs of excessive anxiety and sensitivity.  But he made himself so freakin' endearing that I thought he would manage just like the rest of us in the family.  But I was wrong, he needed more sheltering and care, like a wounded baby bird (one that he would have nursed back to health).  I wanted to give my children wings to fly, Ginny soared and Christopher needed more help.  Hindsight . . .

I had the privilege of getting to know Christopher in Mother's Day Out when he was two years old.  I would have been happy to ignore the other 11 children and sit with him on my lap all day - hugging him and delighting in the very expressive face that God gave him.
As a 4 year old, Christopher set a spark to the clown in me and I loved it and him.  Sometimes it was tough as his preschool teacher when I had to restrain myself.  I can't find a pic, but my mind sees both of us in clown costume in the Pender Hill circus when he was almost 5.
As a very handsome young man, I wanted to burst into his conversations with friends and just give him a big hug.  I'm sorry I didn't.  Instead I gave in to the thoughts, "Karen, you will embarrass him."
I'm glad I didn't hesitate in the Tel Aviv airport to jump up and say, "Please do it again.  I want a photo!"  Chris - the clown - standing on his head on a seat in the gate area.  THAT WAS CHRIS!!  Loving that pic with his feet in the air, I turn that photo upside down and thank God for him and his smile.
These memories will always be Christopher to me! - Karen Cross
[Karen - Here's your clown pic that I took.  Just like yesterday.  You loved my son so and you were my best friend at Pender.  An endless thank you from the bottom of my broken heart.  You are cherished. - Anne]

When my Boo was just a tot, I planted this redbud for Ginny and Chris.  Ginny's bedroom window is in the picture and Christopher's is to the right (not shown).  The summer sun heated their rooms so I decided to plant a redbud.  I'd never planted one before (Leefield drive boasts several trees that I planted, along with a Lilac bush from the house where I grew up in Arlington), but I gave it a try.  Who knew it would mature to this?  Incredible. 

Even more incredible, the house in Reston that I bought and still live in had a mature Redbud growing outside of Christopher's window.  Sadly it was lost in a storm recently, but several saplings grew up around my property.  I have two beautiful young Redbuds growing on my property outside of Boo's bedroom window where I am sitting at my computer to write this story.

So then my niece, Carolyn, planted a Redbud in Charlotte, NC, in memory of Boo.

My parents wanted a tree to plant in memory of their grandson, Christopher.  I planted a small sapling from my neighbor's yard (with Brad's permission) at my parent's house in Sterling.  It wasn't taking water.  My parents didn't want to tell me that Christopher's tree was suffering.  I didn't think it would make it because the roots were so limited.  

Today I went to Meadows Farm Nursery at Route 7 and Reston Pkwy. to see what Redbuds they have (knowing it's past planting season).  I talked to Barry who was in charge.  He walked over to the Redbud I wanted as I told him my son's story.  He began to tell me his addiction to alcohol story - three years sober, lost a nephew to addiction.  I knew this tree was meant to be at my parents' home.  Even though it was new stock, he gave me a 20% discount. 

I loaded the tree in my ancient Pathfinder, but I had unfinished business.  I tracked Barry down at MF central and handed him one of Allison's wallet cards in memory of my Boo.  Barry shocked me when he exclaimed, "I know Chris!"  We bear hugged.  He shared with me that Christopher's friend Elise Cunningham's family in Reston took him in three years ago when he was struggling to get sober from a 40-year addiction.  He had lost everything, several restaurants he owned, family, health.  But now he's three years sober -- one of millions in long-term recovery.  Thanks Barry.  The tree is planted at my parents' home along with red, purple and white flowers.     

We've started a Redbud Project in memory of Christopher.  It is a showy tree in the Spring, has beautiful branches spreading out in all directions and lives about 20 years.  Here's to you Buddy Boo.  

At the Memorial Visitation for Chris, March 1st, Ashley Taylor wrote (unedited):
 
"Christopher William Atwood was one of the most amazing person I have ever met.  I met him in 7th grade drama class and he made fun of me and called me a "goth."  Little did I know we would become best friends and eventually he would ask me out through his grandma's birthday card.  I am so thankful that I had the chance to know such a great person for the past eight years.  No one could make me laugh the way Chris did.  He was the most hilarious, crazy, adorable, loving guy I have ever met.  I know he is smiling down on us somewhere, the most wide toothy grin and saying everything will be okay.  Mark, Anne, Ginny and Ty, I want you guys to know you guys meant so much to him and he was lucky to have you.  I will miss you so much Chris and you mean more than you will ever know.  I love you so much I hope you always knew that.  P.S. I will always remember you singing the song "ashley" to me!"

In response to the the question, "How do you know Christopher?", Ashley wrote:
"my first boyfriend, my best friend :)"   

In 2008, Christopher was spending 2 months in Capitol Reef in Southern Utah, living outside 24-hours a day, working hard, making his own fire and preparing his own meals.  Meanwhile he was dealing with his addiction and other problems with the help of his counselor Branon Johnson.  He was allowed to write letters home and receive notes from his family and a few friends.  He wrote the following empathetic poem for me (with no corrections):

"5-11-08 Dear MOM happy mothers day Im sorry I cant be there to celebrate with you I can't really make you a card so I made you whats called an Identity poem  I hope you agree with and like it

you are slippers you are sweatpants you are hoodies you are workout clothes you are independent you are smart you are soulful you are right you are incomplete you are tropical you are caring you are funny you are criticized you are Jamaca you are on vacation with your kids, you are a good mother you are fun, you are a psychologist you are lonely, you deserve the best you are family togetherness you are laughing you are deep you are my mother and I love you for who you are
Happy Mothers Day!! - Christopher"    

When Christopher was in elementary school, I prepared his lunch and sent him off with his backpack and lunchbox.  When the kids had to take their lunch, I always wrote a message on their napkins.  By the time they were done with 6th grade, they had received hundred's of my personalized notes.  Always a note of love and a pep-talk to get them through their day with a dose of nurturing.  Unfortunately, if brain chemistry is not in balance, a meager napkin ain't gonna cut it.  But every little bit helps, so we do what we can and hope for the best.  My children ARE the best!

Boo had a strong connection to earthy things :) like animals, wet cement, fires, girls...  Well, I had my front porch repaired, not very well actually.  The cement guys had just finished their job and I let Ginny, Boo, and Allison who lived next door at the time add their signatures.  The cement guys gave me a dirty look for letting my kids mar his handiwork.  Whatever.  Boo signed the front with "Chris Atwood" and Ginny and Allison signed the side (not shown).  I'm glad that I let creativity overrule perfection that day.  Everytime I walk in the front door now, there is Boo's handwriting, reminding that he is still here.

Elise Cunningham shared this tribute (and long ago this painting which hangs in Boo's bedroom in Reston) at Chris's memorial service:

Words can't even come close to describing....
Chris Atwood was such a beautiful person.  I have many beautiful memories of him whether we were running through the fields of the golf courses or skipping class and walking through the woods he was always so DEEP and deeply hilarious.  Beyond all his crazy humor and sometimes complete ridiculousness that only looked good on him, he had this side to him that was so sweet, caring, loving, profound and spiritual.  I can't say I loved him because I love him - I always will no matter what form he's in now.  I'm imagining him running at full speed with a herd of pugs on an endless golf course covered with wild flowers - he's in the love now.  He'll always be in my heart, thank you so much for bringing such a beautiful person into the world -- he was an amazing gift.  So much love.  Love, Elise  
p.s. I remember going with him [& his mother] to get his star tattoo.  So me and Ashley are going to live on his legacy and get tattoos for him. [star]  We'll send ya pics! 
[Editor's note:  Anne Atwood will take you to the same place in Fairfax and pay for it!] 

We went to a family reunion in Cadiz, Ohio when Christopher was a toddler and Ginny was around seven.  I loved showing him around the farm where I visited every summer growing up -- such happy memories.  The farm is still owned by Christopher's grandfather's sister, Aunt Jean Rinkes.  My father, Carl Thoburn, was born in the front room of the farmhouse -- the same room where his Mother died in her mid-80's.  When Boo was in his late teens and nobody seemed to know what to do with him, I wanted to send him to Cadiz to be on the farm, to work hard like his grandfather did, to be healthy, to love the animals.  I wish I had...

Thanks for sharing this picture, Dad.  Christmas at your house always meant so much to Christopher.  This picture dates back to when Shiloh (Boarder Collie/Brittany mix) was still around and I was watching her for Linda Cranmer.  The pug in the picture is Dudley, Ginny's first dog and Angie, my Maltese.  Christopher always had time for the animals and they adored him for it!  My young rescue dog, Tasha, would go nuts whenever Boo came over (Ginny too).  As a matter of fact, today I let Tasha sniff Boo's gym clothes that he left in his car (I do it too and am damn proud of it!).  Of course, her tail started wagging harder and harder.  Right now, I wish my sense of smell were as good as hers! 

This morning as I was reading some of the tributes to you from other relatives and friends, I was reminded of the time you, your dad, Uncle Bob (my brother), Steve, and myself went to see Virginia Tech play USC at Fed Ex Field in August 2004. Uncle Bob was a big fan of VT and your daid graduated from USC. Being a night game and the frist game of the college season made it very interesting.
Leaving the ball park for the long walk back to the bus which would take us to the metro train I had a lot of pain in my lower back and couldn't keep up with the rest. You came back to be with me and let me lean on you at times to rest.  You were only 13 at the time.  I never have forgotten your kind act in looking out for your grandfather, who you afftectionly called pappy.
These tributes remind me of how much you really cared about your family and others. Heaven is blessed because of the concern you had for others, despite the battle you raged within yourself for the last 6 1/2 years.  You certainly did a lot in your 21 years compared to what most us, including myself,  have done in a normal life span. Although we aren't saved by works, your caring was an outstanding work of an inward heart of faith that God had given you through  Jesus our Lord.

Tribute to Chris Atwood
By his father (delivered at his memorial service)

Count yourself fortunate if in your lifetime you know even a few truly unforgettable characters.   I was lucky enough to actually live with one.  It can be tiring, but it is infinitely worth it.

In my 60 years, I have honestly never known anyone with as much natural charisma, in the strictest sense of the word -- a mysterious gift of grace.  His radioactive smile could light up a room -- maybe even a whole building.  Any occasion with him became a party.  His lightning-quick wit could find humor (usually very earthy humor) in any situation -- no matter how inappropriate.

His life was lived with an intensity that packed a whole lifetime into a mere 21 years. 

I could regale you for hours with stories of his exploits, both funny and hair-raising, but, to be honest, most of them would not really be very appropriate for a church sanctuary.  (Talk to me afterwards.)  That’s just the kind of guy he was -- no fear, no timidity, and not many inhibitions.  That can be rather wearing on a father, as my many gray hairs can attest, but -- wow -- does it give me some vivid memories. 

I have to admit that I was always a bit envious of his gifts -- his boldness, his creativity, his movie-star good looks, his immense popularity and easy way of making people feel at home.  He really was the person I wish I had been.  He was, quite possibly, the coolest kid ever.

I could be forgiven for overstating all this as a proud parent, but those of you who knew him very well know I’m not exaggerating.

His pranks were a trademark, and showed no mercy.  He perfected them to a fine art, and reveled in practicing them on his gullible father.  On more than one occasion he had me convinced that I was soon to become a grandfather, once even engaging me in a good 20 minute conversation about how we were going to handle the burden of fatherhood -- only to stand up, pat me on the back, and tell me it was all a joke, but he was really impressed with how well I handled it. (Yes, I slugged him for that one.)

I still cringe to think of the time while shopping at Giant -- he was about 13 then -- when I noticed other shoppers giving me pitying looks of encouragement.  I turned around to find that he was following me, with a set of disgusting “bubba teeth” from a costume shop, gesturing and limping and grunting pathetically, “trying” to catch up with his daddy.  My psychological scars are still fresh….

Then there was the time at Six Flags, when a band was playing a number he liked; he just spontaneously started dancing, and a big crowd gathered around to watch and dance too.

(Tribute, cont'd)

But his goofiness tended to cover a secret that not everyone knew: Christopher actually was an exceptionally deep person, wise far beyond his years.  I often had to remind myself that he really still was just a kid -- he seemed so much older.

It has been so gratifying to see him grow into a mature and intelligent young man. One of the greatest joys of my life are the deep conversations we’ve had, particularly in the last 3 or 4 years, on a vast range of subjects.  Faith didn’t come easily to him -- he saw things clearly and unsentimentally and with brutal logic, and he struggled to fit faith into his developing understanding of the world.  His questions were often a real challenge to me.   One of the great callings of my life seems to have been to help him to do this, and after a hundred to’s and fro’s, I know that ultimately he understood that whatever his questions about the particulars, at the very least we have a loving Heavenly Father who wanted us to be with Him for eternity.

Christopher’s fatal flaw was that he was cursed with the burden of drug addiction for the last six years.  It was a life-or-death struggle that occupied him every day of his life.  He said it made him feel like a “freak.”  We should all be such freaks. 

His suffering -- and it was real suffering -- gave him an acute sensitivity for the feelings and hardships of others, especially the down and out.   I could tell you a lot of stories on this as well.  In high school he made a point of reaching out to mentally handicapped kids and bring them into the “cool” crowd.  They loved him for that. The man in the wheelchair at the Vienna Metro station who sells candy bars knew him by sight -- his face would break out in an ear-to-ear grin when he saw his old buddy Christopher. 

Just a year ago while helping with the hypothermia shelter here at Pender, he “happened” to walk into the men’s room just in time to save a young man from slashing his wrist.  For an hour he sat on the floor and listened and shared his own painful experiences, and by the time they were done, the young man was laughing.  I doubt that any of the other volunteers could have done that.

(Tribute -- cont'd) 

Christopher was immensely blessed to have a lovely and loving sister like Ginny.  He was so proud of her, and their bond was a thing of beauty.  They were not just siblings, but best friends.  Though he was the “little” brother, he was very protective of her.  In Jerusalem just last year, a young Ultra-Orthodox man spat at Ginny.  She and I managed to handle that without incident, but when Christopher heard, Pastor Kenny had to physically restrain him from going to “beat the [you know what] out of him!!”  Ginny was always there for her brother as well -- even at the very end.  No man could ask for a better sister than Ginny, and no woman could ever ask for a better brother than Christopher.

Twenty-one years is far too short a time for anyone, much less one so promising as Christopher.  I feel sad that he didn’t have more opportunity to be used by God to help others like himself.   I often told him that he had a gift for this, and that all his experiences could be redeemed for so much good.  He never seemed to accept the idea that he could really be used like this -- and yet he really knew that all he had been through was for a purpose.  But the outpouring we’ve experienced in the past week has shown us that in fact God did use him to touch and bless so many people.  I can’t tell you the number that have told us “whenever I was really down, he always made me happy.”  This is no small thing.  He did a lifetime of good in those few years. 

All any of us have is a little while here on Earth, and the most important thing we have is each other.

 Why his time with us was so short, we can’t know.  God’s grace is sometimes hard to accept, and His mercy can be severe.  But through them, Christopher has the final victory.

It is my hope that you will take with you from this place a little bit of his life and infectious joy, be warmed and comforted by it, and use it to make others’ lives a little brighter.

Daniel (Danny to me and Boo) left this Memorial to Christopher at his service at Pender.  It reads without editing:

If it wasn't for meeting Chris I don't think I would be the man I am today
Chris really brought me out of my shell and taught me how beautiful life is
I still sign my name like this after so many years 
Chris came up with it     
   
Danny draws an authentic stick figure of himself to show his missing leg.  I remember when Christopher was in 9th grade, he brought Danny home one day.  I was privileged to meet Danny and glad that my son cared enough about the world around him to do so. Thanks to Daniel for sharing such a heartfelt story about my son's impact on his life.  We will never forget these acts of kindness and love.

I love this picture on so-o-o many levels.  I think Christopher had entered or was about to enter 9th grade.  He got into my Mother's lap, his dear Nana, to give her a hug and to get one.  Whenever she took a brief break in her lounge chair, if a grandchild was around, her lap was full.  In this picture, she had no idea what a hard journey was ahead for Christopher, but this was in the early stages.  His girlfriend, Ashley, was trying to keep him on track and he always regretted not taking her advice -- stay away from drugs.  She wrote on his arm: "APT was here".  He was so blessed to have such wonderful women in his life and he adored them.

One day Christopher, my dad, Ty and I were all in the kitchen talking.  It was one of those nights where we all were just doing our own thing for dinner and we were each moving around the kitchen getting things together.

Christopher was about to microwave something when, for whatever reason, we started talking about how old the microwave was.  This thing really was ANCIENT.  At least 20 years old.  It was humongous and had fake wood panneling on it and this yellowish plastic inside.  When it was finished microwaving something it would emit this horrible too-long "BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!!!" that was so loud and high pitched it felt like what a dog whistle probably feels like to dogs. 

But my dad loved that thing and defended it like it was his own mother.  He had all sorts of reasons why it was so amazing but as he was rattling them off, Christopher was countering with his reasons why it sucked.  After a minute or two of the back and forth, I could see Chrisopher's disdain for this wretched contraption growing and growing until suddenly he just walked out of the room and into the basement. 

We thought it was a little dramatic, but that was his style so we brushed it off...until he came up the stairs again talking about getting "a real microwave" and then stomped straight out the front door.  Then we were getting really confused. About 45 minutes later he came back in proudly holding a smaller, black microwave saying he bought it from "some guy" off of craigslist for $20 and "aint it a beaut?"  We were a little shocked, but agreed that yeah, it was pretty slick!

We still have the Craigslist Microwave, and even though it sometimes stops microwaving halfway through the time you set it for, we are still keeping it cause it's just too funny to throw away.

Two Christmases ago I gave Boo a membership to the Reston YMCA.  I hadn't expected him to embrace it so enthusiastically, but he started going nearly every day, and within weeks began showing some pretty spectacular results.  (Clearly he had good genes....)  Of course, he made a joke of how it was all going to his head.  One morning 4 or 5 months ago I saw him in the kitchen, and said "and how are you this morning?"  He responded in a gruff, booming voice "I'm not good and I'm not bad -- I'm just BUFF!  I get up in the morning, and I'm BUFF!  I go to bed and night, and I'm BUFF!!"

He wasn't entirely joking, however.  His strength always was the stuff of legend.  Few people believe me when I tell them this, but when he was only three years old, he would lie on the floor with his legs up in the air, I would lie on his feet, and he could do multiple leg presses with me (155lbs)!  Not bad for a toddler.

Anne you have beautiful children and I knew it every time you spoke of them over the year's at the gym. Most importantly, you did the best thing a mom could do and this picture screams it. You made them filled with love and the best of friends. What a gift. You can see their absolute joy in being together. I held my breath as I read one of Christopher's favorite poem's by Langston Hughes as it is one of mine because of my uncle. It was one of my uncle's favorites as it speaks to the joy and hope and dreams of life...............For if life were a broken winged bird. I hope you take comfort as I do after losing my sweet and beautiful nephew that never a day passed that he didn't know he was loved and adored........not a day wasted. I think Ginny is as beautiful a soul as Christopher. What love she has poured into this tribute to Christopher. xxoo Colleen

Christopher adored his big sister (by 4 years and 4 months) from the moment he laid eyes on her.  He would follow her around and want to do whatever she was doing.  Ginny had a lot of fun with this and so did I.  I let her play with his gorgeous curly blond hair, dress him up with bows and heels (like in this picture), put her ballet leotard on him and teach him poses.  She in turn was always looking out for him and helping me with whatever he needed as a toddler. 

By late elementary, he had Ginny and I totally enthralled by his caring demeanor and attentiveness.  I can remember vividly one Friday night which was our family time to relax, order delivery, and rent a video.  Christopher was saying the most profound things in reference to the chick flick we were watching (I think it was One Fine Day with Michelle Pfeiffer and George Clooney), showing how much he already understood feelings and needs.  Ginny looked at me and we both dropped our jaws and said "Where did he come from?"  

Addiction robs the person of who they genuinely are.  I was lucky to see glimpses of the real Boo shine through his struggles, when cravings and drugs didn't have him by his throat.  

After Christopher’s extended stay in Utah, I arranged to get the pug puppy that I promised him when he returned.  I found an ad in the Post.  The kids and I piled in my Pathfinder one Saturday to meet a simple, old country man in the parking lot of a McDonald’s just outside of Front Royal.  He opened the back of his little hatchback and there was an adorable litter of pugs. Christopher chose the best one and insisted on naming him “Manly”.  Manly, take a bow.  I paid for Manly in cash and we headed for home.  With Christopher in the passenger seat snuggling his new puppy, he remarked, “That was sketchy!”  Well - we sure do love that stubby-legged, sweet little pug and we will take extra special care of him in the coming years.


(words from "A Mother's Eulogy"; picture by Christopher from his cellphone; Manly now in the excellent care of Ty Lovitt)  

So this happened during the magical years of childhood when we lived in Reston on Ivy Bush Court.  My friend in Reston, Emma, called me to say that her daughter's Golden Retriever was going into labor (with Emma's Rottweiler's puppies).  Emma was alone and needed our help.  Ginny, Christopher and I rushed to her daughter's house off of Lawyers Road.  When we arrived 2 of the 9 puppies had already been born.  Ginny and Christopher helped Emma deliver the remaining 7, cleaning them and cuddling them against their bodies.  In this picture Christopher is proudly holding 2 of the puppies.  He always had a tender heart for baby animals. 

In early March, Ashley Taylor left this 3-ring binder at my door.  What a powerful tribute to my son.  He was so loved that several of his friends created this book for him.  There is lots of room for more stories and pictures (xeroxed works) with Christopher!  Thank you to Ashley, Elise, Heather, Daria, Hannah, Andy, Matt, Drake, Boris, Ben, Robbie, Leah, Michael and Sofia.  YOU are why my son loved Reston so much! 

Here is a tribute left in the book, anonymously: 

"The wierdest part is that you're still here!  Even though it hurts so much not to be with your physical body anymore - your soul is so intricately connected with all of us I feel like you've never left.  It's awesome.  And I honestly don't ever doubt, not even for a second, that you'll completely leave us.  All of the souls you've touched over the years...the amazing impact you've made...Indescribable."

My precious son - I took the journal that Russ and Stan gave me at the ICU of Reston Hospital near midnight on Friday night and shared it at Mark's house as we spent the week after your death planning your memorial service.  Your incredible friend, Spencer Brothers, came over that Sunday and wrote in the journal.  I was so moved by his words that I asked Spencer to share it in the memorial service.  He was honored to do so and his poise and grace was phenomenal.  Here it is:
"Ever since I met Christopher at Diamond Ranch Academy, we have been fast friends.  No one friend has brought more joy to my life than Chris has.  No one friend has enriched my time alive with more laughter, emotional warmth, and spiritually liberating spontaneity.  The last 24 hours since I learned of your death, I feel as though my lungs are only able to half inflate.  But all I think of are the happy memories you've etched into my mind:  charming, amusing, and frightening strangers at Reston Town Center with your shameless goofiness; doing the "foot dance" with me at every dance we attended; the many nights spent hanging out one-on-one, talking and sharing our views on life; breaking the ticky-tack rules at Diamond Ranch to preserve our sanity; going to concerts together; how you instantly won all of my friends at A.A. over with your effortless, innate likeability; and of course, your huge smile and friendly, inviting voice that my eyes loved to see and ears loved to hear.  I remember so clearly you as a person - your qualities most of all that made up the glowing essence of the brilliant human being you were, and still are in my mind:  your charisma, which I envied at times; your ability to deflate the stress from any situation, forcing me to not take myself so seriously; your perfect level of inappropriateness; your quality, in spite of your carefree demeanor, of being such a good, thoughtful, loving, and caring friend.  I am shocked, truly, to see Christopher go so early.  Never, even after the one serious fight we had in our friendship, did I ever go more than one day where I would not like to have seen you.  To say I will be missing you is an understatement.  To say I will be missing you could be taken quite literally.  Part of me, the part that hasn't accepted your death yet, is looking for you right now, wondering where you are.  Thank you, thank God, for the wonderful privilege of sharing your life with me for as long as you did.  I'm sad you couldn't stay longer, but I believe death is no cessation of life, just a transformation.  That belief never feels more true than it does now - you'll shine on, like a star in the sky, in my mind and in the minds of the throngs of people who love you.  Though it hurts now, I know in the grand scheme of things, I'll see you again soon.

All my love, Spencer Brothers" 
 

So this crazy mama took her kiddos to Great Falls to get a lesson in the Great American Way - later I also took them to Constitution Hall to see their Prez Obama and B.o.B. - AWESOME.  Anyway, back then I was supporting a client who trained at my little back alley gym in Herndon and who was running for a local office.  Chuck Hagel was the big draw.  So I dragged my kids to GF.  I decided that this was a photo opportunity since at the time Chucky was considering a presidential run.  I really liked the guy (and still do).  Chuck Hagel put his arms around Christopher and Ginny as they grinned for my camera and said, "This is the future of America." 

So sorry my computer turned this sideways, but until I can get it fixed I wanted to share this.  Yet another example of Boo's artistic, freestyle ability, along with his constant need to amuse and be amused (or how to stave off boredom).

This self-portrait was one of the last pictures you took of yourself on your iPhone.  I was thrilled to find it because I could see that my Christmas gift to you a mere few months ago was achieving its purpose.  I wanted to give you "dress up" clothes that you would like -- and you did!  I had to exchange the shirt for a larger size because I couldn't keep up with your growth.  So in this picture the shirt neck is too small and the sleeves are too short.  Deep purple suited your personality, regal yet colorful.  And yet when you and I took our personality tests while you were in Utah we both came out Blue -- ha, I would have guessed it.  I felt such a kindred spirit with you that I have never felt with another person ever, ever, ever...

Who knew what a gem we would find at this State Park in the Florida Keys?  I wanted to check this out and you and gin were always game for the beach so we parked and went toward the ocean side.  Deserted - not a soul in sight.  Wow!  The scenery was spectacular and we were there to enjoy.  So off we went in all directions to float in the water, play in the seaweed (see the creature from the deep picture), bask in the sun, or collect little crabs by the dozens.  If there had been a way we could have survived there forever, we would have never left.  Nobody wanted to go...

By Rachel Albright:

"I met Chris two summers ago in the back of Spencer's SUV and we hit it off right away.  Never have I met someone with as much energy and ridiculous knowledge of boy bands as Chris has.  I still talk about him in the present tense.  The first day I met him he serenaded me in the back of Spencer's car with a little know N*SYNC song (I'm told the title of it is "makes me ill").  I have posted *it on facebook for your viewing pleasure.  I never spent a moment with Chris where I didin't think he was one of the greatest people I had ever met.  It was impossible to get mad at him for anything.  You raised an incredible, smart, funny, poignant young man.  He loved helping people and relating to them.  He struggled so much, but was always willing to lend a hand to others.  Even in death he helped show the powerlessness we experience as addicts.  I will never, ever forget him.  I will always love my dear friend Chris.

*I took a video of him singing it.  It took 3 takes and by the end he was yelling at me to stop with his foot in my face.   

One day after school I came over to your house and we were bored.  You suggested we watch this movie "Life as a House" because your mom liked it so much.  So we decided to make this make-shift couch out of your bed on the floor and lots of pillows.  We made a pizza and you puts lots of slices of kraft cheese on it to "spice it up."  I remember by the end of the movie we were both crying and laughing at how much of a mess we looked.  I miss those care-free times with you Chris <3

Mrs. Cross and Mrs. Patch made our lives so much better when you were 2 and I was in need of a little (okay, a lot of) support.  I'd get you ready for your long morning at Pender United Methodist spent with two teachers you loved and who loved you.  Our typical routine usually involved putting your socks and shoes on only to take them off again because the socks weren't quite right.  And on the struggle went until we headed to Pender in our gray Caravan.  If it was a sunny day, then at some point in the short drive, you would start screaming at the top of your little lungs, "sunshine (sob), sunshine in my eyes" and start thrashing around.  To soothe you in the process, I made up a little song to sing to you each day.  "Mrs. Cross and Mrs. Patch, together they make quite a match, of people that we love so dear, love to hold so very near.  Mrs. Cross and Mrs. Patch, together they make quite a match."

Within seconds of meeting the Chris Atwood, I knew I would never forget him.  Pure energy was bursting out of his veins.  I remember I had my guitar at that meeting and I can't remember what song I  was playing, but he started singing along at the top of his lungs.  I then passed my guitar to him and he ran around in the freezing cold, singing and playing like there was no tomorrow.  Now all I can think about is the way he said my name.  And the way he made me feel like the most important person in the room when he saw me.  And when I saw him, without even having to say anything, we would burst out singing - usually NSYNC, and usually in perfect harmony.  I love Chris more than words can express and I don't think it would even be possible to forget him.  He puts skin on Christ for me, and I love him.  Goodbye for now.   -- Colleen Dyer

Boo you were so freakin' adorable that people who didn't even know you wanted you in their wedding.  There are so many layers to this story that I will have to leave some of the details out.  Suffice it to say, both your Mama and Daddy knew the bride's parents because they both were doctors to each of our families over the years -- small world yet again.  So we offered you up as the ringbearer, how could we not?  And as young as you were, you took your job very seriously.  You stood in the front of the church with your pillow holding the sacred rings to be shared at the right moment.  The rings were exchanged and yet you still held your all important position as the youngest in the bridal party.  I was so proud of your ability and poise.  And then I saw you sniffle and look concerned.  You kept your cool and calmly raised the ring pillow toward your face to use it to wipe your nose in one swift move.  Task completed, you went back to your regal pose to finish out the ceremony.  Of course, your adored sissy was there and some awesome pictures were taken that day of the two of you. xoxo Mama

The Golden Years of Childhood - You were almost 10 and Ginny was turning 14.  I took you to Jamaica with the bonus I received from GMACCM.  I asked you about the trip recently, but you had no memory of it.  No matter because I will never forget it.  It was one of my happiest times as a mother.  You were healthy and whole and enjoying life to the fullest.  We swam in the lazy river pool at the Sheraton in Montego Bay, we climbed the waterfall at Ochos Rios, and you jumped off the diving cliff near Negril where you and Ginny went parasailing.  We took a catamaran out in the sea to go snorkeling and later you got to play on a trampoline in the water!  All the while, Ginny was by your side for each glorious moment.  We even ate fish for breakfast - yum!  Precious memories I hold dear. xoxo Mama

I'll never forget picking up my local paper from my sidewalk to see my son's beaming smile on the cover of The Reston Times!  He was embracing Robert E. Simon himself - founder of Reston.  Only Christopher would make something like this happen.  The caption under the pictures reads ""I love Reston!" proclaims Chris Atwood, 16, as he gives Reston founder Robert Simon a hug..." The picture was taken at Hunters Woods Plaza a favorite hang out place for Boo because of the Dairy Queen and the fact that he could walk there from our house. I still see Robert Simon, almost 99 years old, at Lake Anne, especially at one of his favorite lunchtime restaurants, Cafe Montmartre.  In my mind, I imagine a bronze statue of Christopher placed next to the one of Robert E. Simon on the park bench in front of Lake Anne.

I flew to Utah one weekend to visit Christopher at boarding school.  I was thinking what would make him feel really alive (aside from taking him to Vegas) and free and happy.  So I surprised him when I headed to a repair shop/garage at the bottom of the plateau.  After filling out paperwork & wondering if any other mother had ever done such a thing with a student at this very strident boarding school, we were off!  
I'll never forget the thrill of revving our engines and going over bumps and gullies, flying through the air!  At one point Boo decided to try and go up a narrow & very sandy path.  I said, "You'll get stuck!"  He did it anyway.  He got stuck.  He thought we were doomed.  I said get off and we will push it out!  We did and off we went for more fun and freedom!