The Celebration of Chris Maddera will be Saturday, February 18th in the Davis Hall Little Theatre at USAO in Chickasha, Oklahoma at 2:00pm with reception to follow. Come share your stories, and join in the laughter that will surely follow.
In lieu of flowers the family asks that you make a donation to Heifer International or Kiva.Org.
Step by step it’s coming together, this celebration of the man we loved.
Piece by bit by corner by section.
It’s going to be a great party!
I’m switching gears, getting focused on homework, paying the middle of the month bills, keeping the dishes and laundry caught up.
You guys, I didn’t even know it was Valentine’s Day until it was halfway over today.
I have only one last thing to confirm and then I will put out the announcement for the memorial celebration.
also, let me just tell you this:
Trader Joe’s is the best place ever.
Their Roasted Red Pepper and Tomato soup is stupidgood. I am sad that I only bought one carton last weekend. I will be stocking up next trip. only 100 calories per cup serving, which is great with a sandwich. It’s my new favorite thing.
stupidgood
I love that Chris would have loved how much I love Trader Joe’s.
We see our breath from the cold, and laugh until we are once again, warm.
The weekend was full of moments like this. The drive with my co-pilot, each of us starting the conversation in the middle of a sentence, dropping away silently to cry awhile, remembering and anticipating what was waiting for us at the house marked 1413.
Tears were overlapped with smiles were overlapped with snorts of laughter and guffaws and tears and so on and so on. We were together, dealing, questioning, understanding more of the story as it was told to us.
We spoke of ideas and containers and music and photos and words to put together that will describe a life that, in everyone’s opinion was well lived. We sat silently, checking out of reality and into the interwebs when we needed a break. We made magic in the kitchen and bought lottery tickets and more than once rolled our eyes at the absurdity that abounded.
The business of this, all of this is…what is it? Detailed. Necessary. Needed. And we’ll get to all of that. We’ll work this week, and things will come together and we will reunite again, and celebrate this thing called life. (cue Prince song)
But for now, we each are on our couches, in the quiet, working through the voices, thinking about the weather, thinking about tomorrow.
“I felt a great disturbance in the Force, as if millions of voices suddenly cried out in terror, and were suddenly silenced. I fear something terrible has happened.”
The Force is with you. Always.
Our beloved Chris decided to peace out this morning. His mother was there. Cindy told him to go, find peace, don’t hang on for us. The pain was bad. It was time.
As with all of you who have experienced profound loss such as this, I am aching. My bones ache.
I seek solace in the fact that so many of you, some who had never even met Chris, are sending your love and condolences to Cindy. To the tribe. For we are all connected. We are all loved and we are all hurting a bit.
Chris taught me so much about living.
LIVE THIS FUCKING LIFE.
and I know that I’ll write more about that as the days continue to roll on. Unbeknownst to me how that happens, how there is an entire world out there that continues as if nothing has happened…yet it does.
But for today…I celebrate him. I celebrate the legacy that he leaves behind. There isn’t a person who met him, that didn’t smile.
We should all live this life so well.
Somewhere, in a galaxy far far away, I hope he’s walking into the cantina and ordering a pint. And I hope instead of bar nuts, there’s a giant bowl of bacon.
I’m working on focusing this week. I’ve been fuzzy and out of it till today. I’ll chalk a lot of it up to the weather, as it finally has decided to act like winter here. No snow, but cold and grey.
I ask, though, for a special focus. Focus your thoughts and energies and prayers. Chris and Cindy need that from us now.
I’m not going up this weekend, as sometimes too much support is just as bad as not having any at all. Next weekend, however, I’m going and Amy is going with me. Talaura is coming in.
Love.
Prayers.
Energy.
Focus.
I’ll get my shit together eventually. But for right now, let’s focus on them. It can help. I know it.
Last night, I dreamed I was at my grandfather’s funeral. It was a downsized version of the actual event, and no cousin there to make me laugh at the appropriate time. There were cardboard hearts with fancy cheerleader writing in place of flowers, and I would just sob and sob and sob and I would wake up sobbing. I would wake myself up and say, “it’s just a dream” and then go right back into it.
I was on a loop with it.
Eventually it went to me at my mom’s new house, which was in dire need of a swiffer in one room only and an overflowing toilet that flooded an entire wing of the house. That toilet kept overflowing and no matter how much I mopped and cleaned, it kept coming.
I switched then to my house, which was considerably bigger, and my treadmill, which is in my the back of my car right now, and it was awesome. It wasn’t janky and did everything I needed it to and suddenly I was a fabulously skinny version of me.
What the hell is happening with my subconscious???
I slept in this morning, because I could, and though my eyes are swollen and crusty from crying all night, I feel pretty good. I’m going to have some more coffee, and read my British Lit. Do another load of laundry and vacuum up the cat hair. I’ve got some hair to bang tonight after class, then home to read more Eudora Welty.
Last night I dreamed that I had enrolled in a math class and then never went. I’d forgotten all about it. So I was going to get an F on my transcript, and it would drop me below the required amount of hours to qualify for insurance. I’d brought things to class that were falling off of my desk. There was a random skerfuffle with me and another girl who was talking trash about the PseudoSister’s niece.
Oof.
I do have a lot to do. I do have a lot to get done. I am behind on reading from last week. Work was busier than ever, blessed time with family was more important than homework, but now it’s here. It’s due. It’s time.
Time.
Time management.
Sometimes I regret the way I manage my time. Or, I regret the consequences from the way I manage my time.
But at the end of the day…I do think that a trip to see friends is better. I do think that family time is more worthy. I think that gaining .4 this week was worth all the steak and mushrooms and hashbrowns that we ingested, because along with that came laughter and memories and love refilled.
Learning a lesson from friends like Chris and Audra and Cindy and Roger and Ma…emails and texts and social networking posts…taking the time to read them and to write back and to connect in some way or fashion…I don’t regret that at all.
Today we celebrate Chris’ birthday! YAY! Happy Birthday my beautiful friend. . .piece of my family. . . our Obi Wan. It’s a blessing, this day. Each day. Each year. And we shall celebrate many more. I know it.
Chris is the one who says “Don’t wait for a special occasion to use the good coffee…use it NOW! Don’t put off doing something that makes you happy…do it NOW! Live this life. NOW”
And that lesson, it seems that I’m finally learning it, learning what it means
I’ll tell ya when it comes to cousins…to family…I drew the luckiest hand of cards ever dealt.
It is something that breaks my heart for my nephews, that I didn’t give them this experience.
I got to spend some time with my Cali Cousins this week. Under sad circumstances (of course because it’s still 2012) but still. Facetime is rare and sacred and we gobbled each other up and came back for seconds. We’ve got a family wedding at the end of the year that, seriously, is the bright spot in my future. I am so happy to have a scheduled visit, that doesn’t revolve around death, with these people.
And we weren’t playing with a full deck this week. My family wasn’t here, Patrick and Toni were in Cali, but Steph and Jerome and I got some much needed laughing and time together. Enough to declare that we have GOT to get our proverbial shit together and just start planning gatherings.
Great Wolf Lodge came up several times. A weekend here, a weekend there. Timing is an issue but we are a smart group of kids. We can figure it out.
So.
my house is quiet. Auntie Carla and Uncle Bryan are wrapping up their trip with other bits of family. Jerome is en route to Brooklyn, Steph is on the road to Austin. Brokedown Palace is once again inhabited by three cats and a Ridiculous.
I was going to go get my treadmill today. But I really cannot afford to take the time. I’ve got a novel and a play to read by tomorrow, four stories and a paper to write by Tuesday, and another paper due Wednesday.
This is the week I either tread water or sink.
But man oh man, it was good to laugh, it was good to refill on the love. It’s so good to be loved by people infinitely cooler than you are. I can walk a little faster, and stand a little taller this week as we fight the good fight.
Happy Sunday ya’ll. Superbowl, eh? I’m not invested. It will be on for commercials, and I may just turn it to Downton Abbey. Which makes me sad because I do love Superbowl. Just not this year.
Whatever you’re doing, do it well. Be kind to each other. Surround yourself with good people. It can heal the soul.
These were the words I was met with this weekend. These words and a hug that I can still feel this morning.
The trip to Kansas City was a long one, and I was distracted and edgy. I was worried that I would immediately burst into tears and collapse on the bed. I was worried about what Chris would look like. I was worried about how Cindy would be feeling. I had no idea how to wrap my head around the situation that was awaiting me. Is this goodbye? How do you prepare to spend a weekend with people you love with more than your whole heart, and know what it really is? There’s no way to know. There’s no way to understand or to dig into your wheel house and use the tools you have…they don’t exist at this point. So. I just prayed. For strength. For the words. For the actions. For the tools.
We have a new plan. We’re going to fight.
Well ok. That’s the thread I needed to hold onto. That’s the crumb that would lead me back onto the trail and take us to a better place. Ok. Fighting. We can do that. We know how to be bull headed and stubborn. We know how to be thinkers and to move outside the box when needed. We know how to embrace plans that look like chaos and to decipher thoughts that sound like noise. This particular wheel house is full. Chock full of tools. We can do this. Let’s figure out how.
Reversing liver damage sounds like an episode of House. Made up Hollywood magic. But it happens. Cases upon cases have been reported, have been recorded. There is proof. The internet is full of scenario upon scenario. People awaiting transplants who are now running marathons. Complete reversal of cirrosis. Why should we believe it will happen for us? Why shouldn’t we?
We have a new plan. We’ve decided to fight.
Both nights, as we were piled up in the big bed, Chris laying there with his eyes closed talking, and snarking, and holding court as he navigated the waves of pain that would sneak up on him, I thought “this bed holds so much love”. Amy had been there the week before. Traci had been there before that. We had all piled on and just been present, giving love, holding hands. Tiptoeing through this strange new world we find ourselves living in. Together. Together.
We have a new plan. We’ve decided to fight.
There were moments when I worried that our will was stronger than Chris’. That this thing we’ve decided was going to be too hard, too much. That it just wasn’t going to happen. There were brief moments of raw fear that were masked as anger and impatience and frustration at all of it…what if We want this more than He does. It’s a valid fear. One that is based in the most dark, bottom dwelling murkiness of fears. I saw it on Cindy’s face in moments, and I saw it in Chris’. And then we laughed. About something. About anything. And that’s when I thought…man. Pull through this baby, and we will make it worth your while. I promise. I promise you.
We have a new plan. We’ve decided to fight.
This day is call’d the feast of Crispian.
He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam’d,
And rouse him at the name of Crispian.
He that shall live this day, and see old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,
And say “To-morrow is Saint Crispian.”
Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars,
And say “These wounds I had on Crispian’s day.”
Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot,
But he’ll remember, with advantages,
What feats he did that day. Then shall our names,
Familiar in his mouth as household words-
Harry the King, Bedford and Exeter,
Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester-
Be in their flowing cups freshly rememb’red.
This story shall the good man teach his son;
And Crispin Crispian shall ne’er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remembered-
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne’er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition;
And gentlemen in England now-a-bed
Shall think themselves accurs’d they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin’s day.
Join us, won’t you? You don’t need to be in crazy great shape to be on this team. No boxing skills necessary, no running necessary, no Sons of Anarchy gun thrashings necessary. We just need your power. Your thoughts. Your prayers. Your energy. Focused on reversing this liver damage. Each thought between thought. Each moment between moment.
Misti Ridiculous 