I had planned to write on another subject this week, but the news that reached me today of the passing of a dear friend, Christine Morgan, changed all that. I was not shocked, Christine was diagnosed some time ago with ALS, a very cruel and largely untreatable disease. As it progresses, it robs one of the ability to use one’s limbs and eventually speech and all other muscles as well. I am grateful beyond words that Christine was spared most of that ordeal, retaining her speech nearly to the end and passing quietly in the evening with her family in attendance.
Death is seldom dignified although Christine’s was to the extent possible, but it was in her life and particularly her life this past year or so that she earned that dignity. I don’t wish this post to be a eulogy, Christine would not have wanted that and she will live on in my memory and in the memories of those who loved her. As her husband, Frank, said I prefer to think of her on an extended vacation.
When we lose someone we love it is common to lavish praise and lift them up, but I need not do so in this case. Christine was not a larger than life personality, not a world beater, she was the genuine article, someone with enormous empathy, abiding faith, abundant talent and not an ounce of pretension. ALS did not change that—though it did turn her a bit more inward and reflective tempering a natural tendency toward playfulness and always, always, curiosity. To know Christine was to be accepted by Christine—she erected no barriers—and was not quick to pass judgement. Above all, Christine was enthusiastic, about everything from making a pie to trying some new art technique. She was a very disciplined designer and graphic artist and we worked together professionally on several occasions but that is not how we met.
Frank and Christine were neighbors across a narrow alley that separated their house from the apartments where my girlfriend and later wife, Susan lived at the time. I actually met Frank first and we hit it off from the start, due in part to very similar tastes in books and music, but also a shared interest in the outdoors, in sailing, and in working with our hands. In Frank’s case that included his house which he was slowly restoring along with a pair of vintage Volvos that were painted in what I would describe as unusual and vibrant colors.
There are people with whom one is friendly, and then there are the kind of people who expect you to drop in at any time without notice and are genuinely happy to see you. That’s the kind of relationship we had and Frank and I will continue to have in the future. We also talked, a lot, about many things but often about faith. Not about any particular religion, but about our experiences and views and on one occasion Christine described herself as a Buddhist Catholic. I remember that I was a bit disconcerted by the collision of those two belief systems but the more I thought about it the more I understood what Christine meant. She managed to embrace both the religious framework which she had grown up with which offered a familiarity that was comforting together with a reverence for all life and a generosity of spirit without limits.
Christine and Frank were and are unconventional. It isn’t a pose, it is entirely unselfconscious and genuine, just one of the things that drew me to them. I always learned something or came away from a visit with new perspective, one of many things I cherished about our relationship. Their two daughters are much the same, interesting, textured and curious.
I’ll miss Christine while she is away on her extended leave, miss our rambling talks, lengthy meals with even more rambling talks, and the grace I always felt in her presence. But I will carry her and her inspiration with me and maybe a tiny spark of that will pass along to someone else, someone Christine never knew, but will now.
Comentários