Requiem

On Thursday, April 16th, 2020 at approximately 6pm Eastern time, I was wrapping up another arduous workday in a position I mostly enjoy as a travel agent. A position that  began as a fun job, the onset of this new decade’s pandemic has turned the enjoyable work of helping people explore this beautiful world and more about helping clients reschedule or cancel trips they’ve been looking forward to. While what I do may not be considered essential for most people, travel is a passion that has been inside of me for as long as I can remember. It’s exhausting and chaotic to manage a multiple trips with many moving components, and I put my full effort into servicing my clients in every way possible - regardless of if they’re booking a trip or having to cancel a trip. Of course, it’s not nearly as fun to handle so many people at once when things are not going well for global health. Now that the World Health Organization and CDC are involved, now that the sometimes deadly and highly infectious COVID-19 virus has become a worldwide pandemic, I’m trying to be present at work to help just with as much commitment and care for cancelling trips that I took when I was helping clients book them. I’m just so grateful to have a job which I am attempting to form into a career, especially now that over 20 million citizens in this country have been laid off or let go. 

On this particular day, I was still in the sanctity of my home office - that’s one thing I’ll credit to Covid: I enjoy working at home so much. In my guest room, my beautiful girl Maya, visiting from Memphis, was plugging away at her virtual community college class work online, trying to make sure she finishes this semester on time, with a solid GPA, and in good standing (so proud of her hard work & dedication). 

My cell phone rang and it was Maya’s nana, Karen, calling from Tennessee. Not uncommon. Maya’s visiting for a few months at least, and (since she lives at Karen’s house in Memphis) it’s not unusual at all to hear from her. I answered like I normally do; her nana is one of the strongest, most level-headed people I know, and I like hearing from her. 

This time though, there was something in the tone of her voice, some measured exterior of calmness and composure, that told me something was terribly wrong, and she said she had bad news. She phoned to relay that Maya’s father Chris, who I had a very long, bumpy relationship with, passed away after losing a long and tragic war within himself. Apparently that same morning, sometime between 9:30-11:30 CST, her son Chris killed himself. 

For a second, I was sure it was a mistake. Information like this couldn’t be correct. I protested that she couldn’t be right. I walked out of the office & all I could say were things like: “What? No! That can’t be right! Oh my god. That can’t be true. No! There’s no way that’s right!” 

Without consciously thinking of it, I started to walk outside. I’d answered her on speaker, assuming she’d have a question or something for Maya, who appeared instantaneously in the open front door frame while I paced on the porch, asking me what was going on, why Karen had called me and not her, what the matter was. I didn’t, I literally couldn’t, bring myself to repeat the words Karen had just said to me to my daughter, to my firstborn baby that is made up of Chris & me combined. It seems like I just sort of detached from reality and gave Maya the phone. I honestly don’t remember those first few minutes... all I can recall is pain that shook me to my core, and the pain it brought is one of the strongest I’ve ever felt. 

Initially reeling from this news, I primarily reached out to the people closest to me, two of whom were brave enough to break their self-quarantine and came over immediately. I will be forever grateful for that. I have to emphasize a huge “thank you” to my beautiful little sister Melanie, and one of the best friends I’ve ever had, Stephanie. Having their presence made everything seem a bit better. If they ever read this (they won’t), I hope they know that I am endlessly grateful for them braving the pandemic to come be by our sides.

Once it sunk in enough, I starting letting people from our past know. Some of these people I hadn’t spoken to in years. Many have borne witness to times where we together as a couple who was crazy in love, as well as separated or broken up, full of acrimony towards the another, as well as witnessing the times when we could just speak as old friends. What a nightmare shitshow we could be. I want to thank everyone who has listened to me cry and shown support. 

We will be okay; however, this is very so hard to fathom. Tell the people you care about as often as possible, hold each other close, and please - if you ever need to talk to someone and reach out for help, do not ever hesitate to do it. 

For Christopher Michael French, I hope wherever you are, you’re finally at peace. You were loved more than you will ever comprehend. Thank you for giving me the most beautiful, amazing daughter anyone could imagine having. 04/23/1981 - 04/16/2020. 

•Memorial Service for Chris French•

Since this has occurred during such tumultuous time while we all practice social distancing & self-quarantine due to the current health crisis, the service for Chris is going to be virtual. If you wish to join us to say goodbye, you’re more than welcome. Date: Saturday, April 25, 2020 Pacific Time: 12:00pm Mountain Time: 1:00pm Central Time: 2:00pm Eastern Time: 3:00pm To join the service, you’ll need to download Zoom from your iPhone or Google Play Store, or on your PC. It is free to do so. When it’s time to begin, please click on this link to be included: https://us02web.zoom.us/j/81067835850 You will be prompted to enter this Meeting ID: 810 6783 5850 Find your local number: https://us02web.zoom.us/u/kdaugnfMp 

 Please know that I’m sending much love, peace, & gratitude for your consideration!