Tuesday, September 14, 2021, my dear brother Christopher Chandler Brown left us. His was a complicated life and ours was a complicated relationship, but we always loved each other, and his passing has hit me hard. What I share below is not The Chris Story – it’s just my own story of Christopher – no one else’s. Somehow sharing that story and letting it be heard seems to help.
Once upon a time on Halloween 1959, a sweet boy named Christopher came late into our family. Pop was 48 when “Chrissy-Tough” (his family nickname) came home. My sister Claudia and I went out trick-or-treating with neighborhood family friends while Dad got Mom to the hospital to see Chris arrive on that All Hallows Eve.
Those early years were filled with family road trips, camping vacations, and riding hundreds or even thousands of miles jammed into a VW microbus camper. From Mexico City to the Canadian Rockies, we camped and hiked, swam, and fished.
But things darkened for Chris early on and he had trouble finding his way in life. As early as high school, he struggled. Perhaps a few of the Halloween demons managed to claw their way in. Life was never easy for Chris, but he had a way of preserving a positive spirit and retaining kindness in his heart. He loved his children and his family even though he struggled to maintain his balance and perspective, and in the end, it was too much for him.
My relationship vacillated from anger to frustration, from lamentation to loving, and eventually forgiveness and fondness. Often, he was hard to love, and yet I miss him terribly already.
It was Christopher that got me interested in fishing. Chris loved to fish. When the troubles seemed greatest, he would disappear for hours and then days, just throwing in a line.
One funny story we shared and laughed about was a trip to the Kern River. I was maybe just out of high school, Chris was in middle school, and we headed out on a long weekend camping, swimming, and fishing. We caught a couple of nice fish and packed them in the front boot of my Volkswagen beetle, but we had no ice. We thought heck they will be fine overnight, and we were headed home in the morning. No matter that it was 100 degrees. By the time we got home after a 3-hour drive and all night in the trunk….let’s just say the trunk of Bug was ripe. Shit for brains kids. For years we laughed about that story, but it was one of the truly great times he and I spent together. Even as I took him home from the hospital on Sunday, Christopher pointed out a favorite tackle store on Sepulveda Blvd.
His exit from this life and journey into the next will end any pain and sadness. His passing will free Chris from the stressful struggle. My sister Claudia and I did what we could to understand and help Christopher. No matter how frustrating our familial relationships are, we will never forget the loving moments. He joins our dearest and loving big sister Claudia and she is there to greet him and love him. Now he is with Mom, Dad, and Claudia and truly in God’s hands.
What a year it has been, Claudia was diagnosed with terminal cancer just as a pandemic blanketed the world in darkness, then she left us in December. I thought I may never be able to breathe again; the loss was so hard. Now Christopher is gone, and I stand alone as the last of my immediate family. I journey the road of life without my parents or my siblings. But know how lucky I am to have had these experiences, these memories, these times. The hard and difficult periods are already fading, and the bright and joyous moments will remain. My amazing Barbara and my loving sons Kendrick and Weston now help me navigate the Road.
I will take my brother’s ashes to Guemes Island and lay him beside his parents and sister. I will place some fishing tackle in his grave just in case.
