Memorial service

For my son, Christian --

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“We are such stuff as dreams are made on;”

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Shakespeare’s words could never ring more true than they do of you, Christian.

Preparing a eulogy for Christian... --  It’s not only that it’s a struggle to find the precise words, it’s also that there is so much of importance that wants to be said, in brief form. There's no capturing Christian's shimmering totality -- all the fun, the light, the love -- that he represented, in a eulogy. But we're prepared to do the best we can here today.

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Christian was our first born. Danielle and I were further blessed when Kate and later Nicholas joined us. Christian shared great bonds with his siblings and loved spending time with each of them.  Christian and Kate, or “Lady Kate,” as young Christian sometimes referred to her, were early compatriots. — Close in age, and distinct in personality, from their first days, they formed a complementary, fabulous, dynamic duo.  When Kate was initially learning to speak, she was heard repeatedly saying something to Christian that was for a time incomprehensible, and was often accompanied by a tug of his arm. Eventually we came to understand that what she was saying was “ME-U,” as in an urging, “Come on, me and you, let’s do this thing or that.” Christian usually obliged, though we suspect that he may have turned Kate down a time or two, if her plans were too mischievous.  

 

When Nicholas joined us, Christian instantly assumed a protective role, gently stroking Nicholas’ head the day he was born and commenting on his tininess, and that he’d been waiting for Nicholas “all day.” Young Christian was always missing Nicholas, often phoning home from the school office to confirm that Nicholas was there, safe and sound. Later, as they grew to be young adults, it was Christian who would often point out to the rest of us the emergence of Nick’s cool factor — the clothes he wore, his offbeat sense of humor and his manner. Christian would say about Nick, “Nick’s so cool, he’s just doing him.” 

 

Later their cousin Grant joined the fray, evening out the number of participants and enlarging the group for fun homemade theater productions and contests, organized by Christian and Kate.

Christian had a very strong, special loving relationship with his siblings, cousin Grant and his Cochran cousins.

 

From earliest childhood, Christian put other peoples' needs before his own.  To him, this was the natural order of things. He didn’t grow into being a kind and caring soul, Christian was that person from the moment he was born.  CHRISTIAN was one of the most charismatic, happy, energetic and positive people you could ever hope to know. His brilliant beaming smile and boundless energy were a source of joy, happiness and comfort to all whose paths crossed his. He was empathic, loving and inclusive to everyone he encountered.  To meet him was to love him. Christian sparkled with his own brand of intense energy, like a trillion beams of light, and when he walked into a room, you would immediately be drawn to him, with his twinkling brown eyes, his glorious head of curly brown hair, and dressed in his own inimitable, quirky style. Indeed, Christian was handsome, turning heads at 3 and—from what I could observe as a Dad—at 23.  Rachael, the love of Christian’s life and his partner, who stood by him throughout this year of trial and difficulty with a maturity and loyalty women two or three times her age would be challenged to demonstrate, enjoyed his handsome looks, but she like the rest of us knew they were just the outer reflection of Christian’s inner beauty and character.

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Among his many great qualities, Christian possessed a shining intellect, including a photographic memory. His school participated in a mock United Nations and Christian not only memorized every single flag of the world, but also memorized key points from each Wikipedia entry about each country in the UN. Foreign culture fascinated him.  The simple act of packing a bag and going someplace excited him. He was not a materialistic person; rather, his experiences were far more important than his possessions.

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Christian’s prodigious memory was invaluable in his acting career. It would usually only take a couple of reads-through to get it word perfect. He loved to perform, throwing himself, heart and soul, into whatever role he had been called upon to play. Christian landed the lead role in many plays, his ability to convincingly portray characters from many walks of life a testament to his empathic nature. I am glad he was able to begin to live his dream of acting on stage and screen, including his cameo, as a young teen, in a major motion picture, The Dark Knight Rises, securing him a spot in American film history.

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On August 26th, 2020, Christian was diagnosed with a rare cancer of the liver, cholangiocarcinoma. When we told him how sorry we were, as parents, that he had to have this awful disease, he replied, "It's ok, because if it was not me, then it would be someone else that would have to endure this struggle.”

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Since the day of his diagnosis, to the moment he took his last breath, Christian never complained, not once, about his situation. He willingly accepted his extraordinary burden. An ironic humorist, Christian’s Instagram and Twitter feeds were filled with humor throughout this year. Even after his disease was advanced and he was near the end of his life, his wit was a sword he sharpened to confront the adversary that was attacking his physical body. An example: after the cancer had progressed to the point that he required a wheelchair, Christian—an amused fan of 80’s culture—posted a picture of himself in the wheelchair wearing a headset and holding a Sony Walkman. Under it he wrote, “Walkman? Not lately.” (As in, WALK man? Not lately.) A couple other examples from Twitter: “A large part of emotional maturity is finally admitting that ‘Holiday’ by Madonna is your favorite song (everyone goes through this)”… and, beneath a photograph of his hand pulling an IV drip on a stand with wheels: “Walking the drug.” As his very close friend Alan and other buddies will attest, Christian maintained his sense of humor, and his love of gaming, throughout the year.

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Eventually, Christian's cancer went to his bones. Much of his spine, his femur, his hip, his shoulders became involved. Amazingly, he never complained. He would often ask us all, "What’s good about today?" It was his daily reminder to us all that we had to focus on all that is good within each day, and to make the very most of it.

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Over the course of Christian’s treatment, we visited several respected medical centers, among them, Sloan Kettering, Johns Hopkins, Cleveland Clinic and Massachusetts General. Out of the blue, about a month ago, I received a call from a nurse from one of these facilities.  She began our discussion with an apology. She hoped I'd understand that her reason for contacting me was personal, rather than medical, and that she was departing from HIPAA regulations and protocol in reaching out to me. She explained that it had been her job to transport Christian within the hospital by wheelchair from one location to another and that along the way it's customary to point out some art installations, public displays that it's hoped might benefit the patients in some way. She explained that she was compelled to call me because of a life-changing experience she'd encountered with Christian. She described speaking with him, in the one hour they spent together.  What was unusual was that Christian spent the entire time talking about her.  “He wanted me to feel comfortable,” she said. “He wanted me to be happy. He asked about my life and made me laugh. He told me how grateful he was to get to know me and to learn about my life. He wanted me to know how important I was and wanted me to have a great day filled with joy.” The nurse cried on the phone with me. She said, "He didn't owe me anything, yet he gave me everything. There he was, in the worst situation a person can be in, and all he cared about was me." This is one story among many in a similar vein.

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In private moments I shared with Christian, I came to understand how important it was for him to be there for others who needed him, and when he struggled, it was always about making sure he could give all of himself to others. If friends were coming see him, it was vitally important to Christian that he would be there for them. Let’s think about that... People were coming to comfort Christian, the young man who was dying, but Christian didn’t want to focus on himself; instead, he chose to channel his energy toward others. His deepest fears were not about pain and suffering, or imminent death, but rather that he might fail to bring joy into people’s hearts.

After his diagnosis, Christian never stopped living and thriving, remaining motivated in the face of overwhelming adversity. He got a full-time job, as a salesman at Automatic Data Processing, a human resources software company, and for the first six months after his diagnosis, while on heavy chemotherapy and a range of other drugs, did the work of a healthy grown man from a home office in our basement. I lack the words to convey my respect. Many able bodied, healthy adults would do well to emulate his work ethic.

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Even before his illness, Christian packed so much into his life and touched so many people in profoundly positive ways. Christian also packed this past year with his signature creativity as a composer and podcaster, continuing to work with his sister, Kate, to produce a podcast about space, called Space Night, that he loved and enjoyed, and writing LoFi electronic music on SoundCloud.

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Christian was an extravert who maintained a huge circle of friends from many different backgrounds and walks of life. I’ve lost track of how many close friends he had, but he made each one feel unique and valued. There was nothing superficial about his friendships. When Christian was your friend, he had a way of lightening your load.

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During the journey of the past year, Christian’s kindness to others was returned by a couple of doctors who deserve special salutation. Dr. Syeda Zyaidi, our Palliative Care specialist is a remarkable woman who guided us faultlessly along the way. You never hear of doctors of her stature making house calls, yet here she was, visiting Christian at home and was even present weeping with us and embracing us when he died. Dr. Mark Yarchoan of Johns Hopkins regularly went above and beyond, walking with us on the tightrope between hope and acceptance. I’m extremely grateful that my sister-in-law, Bridget and my brother-in-law, David were part of what we called the “CC Advisory Group” and participated in every aspect of Christian, care along with Danielle and myself.  Their help was invaluable, and we couldn’t have achieved what we did without either of them.

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Our community pulled together, supporting us through every trial we faced. Our friends and neighbors lightened our load, offering support on an ongoing basis, as did our fellow parishioners and clergy. It was humbling to see all of these good and kind people taking time out of their busy lives to lend us their strength, their love, their insight.

Christian placed his trust in Our Lord and His teachings and lived his life accordingly. He exemplified all that was Christ-like. Humility, kindness, joy, gratitude, self-sacrifice, selflessness, courage, and above all, Love.

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Christian extracted promises from each of us that we would always look for the good in every day, and as I look out and see all of your shining faces, it is easy to see the good in this day. You each have your own memories of Christian, and you each carry a part of him that is entirely yours. He knew with certainty that if you looked for the good in each day, you would find it. It was important to him to let you know that he was not afraid of dying. It was just another experience, and he was sure it would not be the last.

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On September 1st, 2021, Christian peacefully passed into God’s loving embrace…..”

Christian’s extraordinary devotion to others, his easygoing humility, his humor, his ability to comfort us even as he was the one facing mortality, all set him apart. He would never have claimed the mantle of sainthood (and had it been suggested, might have laughed and joked about the idea on Twitter), but in his way I believe Christian was a 21st century saint. His courage and his selflessness, while confronting death at age 23, were heroic, though he would not have seen it that way. Bravely, with love and even humor, he walked his difficult path, and uplifted us.

With all that was extraordinary about him, Christian considered himself to be just a regular guy, but to my mind, that is part of what makes him a star.

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Another snippet from Shakespeare … and our little life is rounded with a sleep.”

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Christian, each of us who has had the privilege of your light shining upon us knows that the only thing that was little about your life was its duration. You packed so much of your love, your grace, your brilliant mind into your 23 years.

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Christian, you are so deeply loved by us all. Always. Rest in Peace.