Special thanks again to Nathanial Larue for the original "Flying At Twilight" photo above which he took in Manhattan one evening while Chris and Nathan were skateboarding. This photo became the inspiration for the Flying logo which symbolizes Chris' free spirit, love for life and fun, and fearlessness. Had it not been for Nathanial being there that evening, we would never have this treasure to remember our son by.

I still remember the day the world took

you back & there was never time to thank

you for the thousand scattered moments

you left behind to watch us while we slept.

                                                        b.andreas

 You may have to click the play button twice on some of these files. Please be patient after clicking, they will play and are worth the sometime delay.

Our son, Christopher Ryan Camarena was born on April 10th 1986 at Research Medical Center in Kansas City Mo. He was always a "city boy" , raised on the run by parents sorely lacking in the early years how how to handle a wild, free spirited child but loved by those same parents more than could  possibly have been imagined.

The above paragraph has sat too long on its own and I must find the words to describe my son and his wonderful, happy life. I think that I have bitten off perhaps more than I can figuratively chew. The words should come easily but there is so much I want you all to know about my son I fear i may leave out many important priceless jewels.

What I have come to learn since his death is the impact he had on so many people. Who could have imagined that one young man at age 18 would leave behind so many friends and casual aquaintances, adults and peers alike, stinging and hurting at his passing. Although this should bring us some comfort, it is too early to indulge ourselves in that luxury and the wound is still too tender and fresh, easily irritated. All of them are hurting and in pain at their loss, each looking for some reason or explanation for the unexplicable.

It would be too easy to use all the cliches when describing our son but so many of them are applicable. This much is certain: he was a one of a kind human being, possessing all the love and warmth, kindness and virtue, gentleness and spirit one person could have. He was truly blessed I believe by God with a personality and love of life that few ever have or aspire to. He rarely had a bad day and if he did he rarely allowed himself the indulgence of self pity.

A few years back when he broke his ankle badly in a skateboard accident, he spent the next few months on crutches, lugging his heavy backpack through the halls of Rockhurst High, with rarely a complaint. He would arrive home exhausted but always with a smile on his face, eager to tell the days events. I was so proud of him during that time of his life, astonished at his will and mental capacity to weather the storm with a determination seldom seen.  

 His impact on friends and school mates is easily documented. You have only to go to the guestbook or have been at the visitation to read and see all the people who loved him and admired him as a loving, caring young man. That our son could have impacted so many is heartwarming and very saddening at the same time. A few days after Chris' death, a knock at the front door found our postman with a registered letter for us. As I opened the door to greet him and sign for the letter, he looked at me with eyes full of tears and said with a choking voice, " I really liked that kid of yours. He was the only teenager that ever talked to me. He was really a great kid". This was so Chris. I had no idea my son had ever talked to the postman and was again another example of how this great kid of ours treated others so graciously and respectfully. God, how could you take a child like this?

Our exceptional son was conceived on one of my trips back home to see my wife. I spent two summers I think, traveling the Central and South Pacific while Mary Kay lived in Hutchinson, KS. and then later in Kansas City, Mo. She was working for Price Waterhouse while in Kansas City and was traveling constantly as a consultant. I was jetting back and forth between Hawaii and Samoa and was perfectly content to do so, living a dream I had become enamoured of, tropical fish collecting. As we were young and child free, Kay was willing to indulge my whims while she built a career in her field of choice.

Fatherhood called though one summer afternoon as I sat in a hut mending fish nets. I will never forget that day she called and summoned me home. I went home less than happy at the prospects of being a father, my dreams and plans ruined by the call of adulthood. I think I got over that notion quickly or at least thats my revisionist version of events. Mary Kay carried that boy all over the United States until the final month when she was forced by the doctor to quit traveling. We moved to the Kansas side of the line and from there started our life with a child.

I don't really remember the day he was born except that he came quickly and I was very happy that he was healthy. He grew quickly and was a a joy to both of us. I remember weekend afternoons laying on the floor of our rented house at 74th terr. near Metcalf, teaching him to walk, a huge grin always on his fat face. He was such a active child, always getting into something and always testing my nerves. It took awhile to get used to fathering, the diapers, the sleepless nights and the crying but we survived and stumbled our way through.

I became for a period, a stay at home dad, while I reworked my career options in light of this new member of the family. Those days were good days and I wish I could say I was an excellent parent with alot of patience with a small child , but I wasn't and I do regret that I didn't do a better job of watching him during that time period, but I truly did the best I could considering my very limited experiece with kids. i hope Christopher can forgive my frustrated angry ourbursts I would occasionally have. I wIsh I could take those moments back but make no mistake, I loved that boy!

 I wish I could say that our son had the ideal childhood but he did not and that makes writing this even harder. A child of two high achieving parents, he spent many of his early years shuffling back and forth between baby sitters, a situation Kay and I have always regretted. We realized many years later how we had short changed him and of how selfish we were to not make different decisions about how to lead our lives at that time. He was such an easy child to please and our own ignorance at raising kids had alot to do with our decision to both try to work and balance the raising of our firstborn. I believe thought that the hurried life he lead as a child made him a more flexible kid in later years. He was always able to go with the flow and almost nothing made him angry or sad. We lived a busy lifestyle and Christopher always was in tow, be it to the store, vacations, trips home to Salina or his normal routine which was up early in the morning, dropped off at someone's home and then back to get him in the late afternoon for a quiet evening at home.

I don't mean this piece to be a chronology of his life and I may jump back and forth between time periods as I try mightily to put this portion of the site together. I feel badly that I have not written more for this section and I will try harder to gather my thoughts of the past so that you will get a bettter idea of the life he lead and the events that shaped him into the wonderful, loving young man he became.

When skateboarding started becoming popular with the young kids in there preteens,Christopher wanted so badly to be as good as the pro skaters like Tony Hawk, who was one of his early idols. The problem was that Chris was very shy and didn't like to go to the early skate parks and try to get better. He was very intimidated by the older boys who had been skating longer and could already do many of the tricks he so longed to try to learn. I had become increasingly exasperated that he would be so timid and afraid to try to learn in front of other skaters. So one day as I recall, I just layed it out on the line for him and told him. " You are never going to be better unless you just get out there and try! "Do you think all these other guys out here didn't start out just like you are?"

He was not afraid of failing, he was just afraid of failing in front of the other skaters and looking foolish. Finally the words took hold and Christopher's courage and dedication kicked in and he started working hard to learn how to skateboard. I watched day after day as he failed over and over again, never giving up, literally picking himself up off the concrete, dusting himself off, wiping up the bloody elbows and trying again. I was so proud of his determination and the enormous amount of energy he expended and all the hundreds of hours he spent, doing the same trick over and over and over until he would get it perfected.

It now also brings a smile to my heartbroken face as he would urgently run in from the garage or back deck proclaiming to have mastered a new trick, and wanting me to see him do it, only to more than once have him botch it the first time for me but eventually get it exactly right. My pride at his fortitude and athleticism warmed my heart then as the memories do now.The scars and bumps and bruises were his badges of honor, worn proudly for all to see and the joy he took in my admiration of his accomplishments was shown innumerable times in his radiant smile! I hope someday we can all smile again when thinking of this remarkable kid!

Christopher was actually a naturally gifted athlete and could have excelled at many sports were it not for his desire to "have fun" over "competition". He felt the act of competing took the enjoyable part out of the activity. It's not that he didn't compete, he did, but he really enjoyed sports when done soley for the fun of it. He started as so many kids do with soccer at an early age, his coaches and his exasperated father yelling at him for stopping to look at a bug or someone's dog or just plain stopping for no reason at all. He loved running up and down the field but would not always necessarily be following the game. He just wanted to have fun!

Later he played baseball and did ok at that too but as always would frustrate you that he didn't take it more seriously as you could easily see how good he could could be had he taken it as more than just a day's fun in the sun. I remember one game out at Shawnee Mission Park where he took a fast pitch hardball straight to the face, knocking him down, bloodying his nose and not one single tear out of his eyes! He was always a tough kid and had the scars and bruises to show on every part of his body.

At Rockhurst he started with football freshman year, having never played in his life and once again, did pretty damn good, starting several times for the B team at linebacker. It took him awhile to understand how it was supposed to work but he stuck with it and figured it out and ended up looking like he mostly knew what he was doing. He enjoyed the fact that at that position, he could mostly just run around in a more unstructured manner and just chase the guy with the ball. That was his kind of game: not too many rules or things to clutter his mind, just a simple plan. His Uncle Mike came to see him play and I was proud that he acquitted himself well that day, hustling up and down the field on the south end of Rockhurst.

And then one day Christopher found his true sport and came home excited as hell and proclaimed it to be of all things: frisbee! Well I was less than excited about it to be truthful as I imagined the guys you would see  in the city parks playing frisbee golf. Good Lord I thought, my son is going to play frisbee?? Well it turns out it was quite different than anything I had imagined and was more football with a frisbee. Lots of contact, an immense amount of full out sprinting, and more importantly, alot of physical dexterity and agility required say nothing of the stamina you had to have to play a full game. And he was absolutely fantastic at it! The first game I saw him play was in Lawrence at a tournament there and I was completely taken by surprise at the athleticism required to play at that level.

His team was very good, coached by a young Rockhurst teacher, and Chris' talent was there for all to see. I was so impressed with my son's ability and stamina and his newly found talent for the game. Once again, his physical abilities served him well and his mental toughness made him a formidable opponent. I believe he could have easily played many sports at a high level and had many coaches over the years tell me so. But for Christopher, FUN was the name of any game, and that for him was priority number one.

The most overwhelming , consistent and heartwarming message that we as Chris' parents have heard from the time he was young until this tragic time of our lives has been how much people admired his million dollar personality and his strength of character. It has never mattered  whether he met someone only briefly or whether it was a long time friend or casual acquaintance, the comments were and have always been the same: what a great friendly kid; he makes me feel so  good; Chris is always so happy and smiling. The descriptions are many and heartfelt and people's admiration and delight were and have always been genuine when describing our son.

We do not presume to take credit for Christopher's personality and warmth and love of life and of people. No, we believe that God gave this young man a special quality that is given to few and we also believe God knew Chris would share all he was given with every person he met.There were no strangers to him, only friends he hadn't yet met and without fail, anyone who met him came away with the same glowing  impression of him and his outlook on life and his love of people.

Christopher's most endearing trait was his complete lack of self conscienceness when showing affection to either his parents or his sister Caranne. It made no difference to him if others were present, including close friends. His big warm hugs are legendary among his family and friends and I believe his courage to show others affection publicly made his friends love and admire him even more, and may have given them the courage to express themselves more openly. He never hesitated to tell us he loved us when surrounded by his buds and always hugged us when he left to go play or when coming home after being away. He embraced his sister constantly and made sure she was always part of his life, sharing many experiences together and developing the closest brother-sister bond imaginable. I will chronicle their relationship later as I feel more able to do the subject justice. There is so much to cover and their relationship was so special and deep that it will take much time and energy and I cannot risk missing any parts of it.

His open friendly demeanor included everyone he came in contact with and his congeniality and good manners were always on display when meeting new people or greeting old friends. I had tried to teach him early on how important a good firm handshake was for men and my son learned the lesson well and I was always so pround of him when he would meet business associates of mine or his mother's and he would always extend his big strong hand and offer it along with a confident, " Hi I'm Chris". When he and I would go shopping together as we did for movies or music, he would always be the first one to say a loud, "Thank you very much" when checking out, regardless of the purchase or establishment. He had learned all these life lessons so well and used them daily as they became a part of his wonderful personality.

Christopher appreciated all that was given to him or was done for him. He was completely unselfish and never took anything in his life for granted. He worked hard when he took a parttime job at Best Buy one Christmas and he excelled at learning his job which was that of cashier. He didn't particularly like the job as it was very stressful and they put alot of pressure on cashiers to sell extra items or hawk magazine subscriptions. Many times he would come home after a long hard Saturday and tell the funniest stories about customers that got mad at him for something not ringing up the right price or some policy that he had nothing to do with but was required to follow, many times upsetting the customer. He took all of that in stride and would never really get angry or upset and somehow as always, would look beyond the moment and find something to be happy about.

Since his days as a small child, we always went on family vacations during the summers and usually to someplace warm and tropical. Since the primary commodity I sell comes from tropical countries, we always ended up by the sea and Christopher was always in the water swimming or snorkeling and then later SCUBA diving with me. He always realized that these were special times and that not all kids were privileged to go to the places he had been. He never took those vacations for granted and always talked about how much he appreciated our ability to take such trips.

Over the years he was lucky enough to visit Hawaii several times visiting Oahu, Maui, and the Big Island. He also enjoyed our trips to the Caribbean as we vacationed in the Bahamas, Grand Caymans, Aruba, Cozumel and our favorite spot, Cancun. All those years he grew up he was able to see the different way people lived and he realized how lucky he was. He always thanked us after every trip and our memories of those times will fill our hearts.

The trips to Cancun were especially memorable as he and Carannee were older and were able to do more exciting things together including this Jungle Tour where you would drive these little speed boats through the mangroves and lagoons and then out the reef when we would snorkel and swim. Christopher as usual, drove the boat with his ever present ear to ear smile. The bus rides into downtown Cancun were famous among our family as the bus drivers weaved in and out of traffic, barely missing accidents or almost causing them or almost running over tourists driving small underpowered motor scooters. He loved those bus rides and the sightseeing we would do. I will post many pictures of those vacations so you can see what a great time they had.

" Our house is a very very very fine house, with two cats in the yard, life used to be so hard, now everything is easy cause of you" CSN&Y

Our house was the focal point for all of Chris' social activities and it seems like everything was routed through this place. We encouraged this because it was safer and we wanted his friends to feel welcome here. The house was large enough for many people with a much larger than usual backyard for this part of Overland Park and with a trampoline, which I was completely opposed to, it was the place to come and act like a kid again. Christopher was the magnet, he was the hub, he was the engine that drove their activities and they were drawn to him magically, as if he possesed an energy they needed.

And drawn to him they were. Summer evenings were generally full of activity from the time Christopher was a preteen to the day he left us. Nothing in those years ever changed his desire to make this his "home base" from which all activities emanated. All were welcome because he made sure everyone felt included and because he had come to expect that that would always be fine with us. It usually started as a " Oh mom and dad, a few of the guys are coming over later, is that ok"? And as always we would say it was. It wouldnt be long though before the few guys turned into a few dozen assorted males and females, all toting someone with them, and not always someone we or Chris knew. Often we would pull him aside if things appeared to be getting out of hand size wise and ask, "Christopher, who are those people"? And always the answer would be, " It's ok their so and so's friend". And generally it would be ok because Chris made sure it was ok and that no one was doing anything they shouldn't be doing. He was always mindful of his friend's behaviour and never let anything get too out of hand.

In the early days it was usually just the guys, Nick, Nathan, Bobby and their activity was skateboarding in the church parking lot behind our house. When we first moved into this home, the primary reason aside from us loving the house was the fact that there were no houses behind us, only a huge empty grassy field. Perfect for Chris and Caranne to wander through and no nosey neighbors looking into your back door. After the church was built and Chris started skateboarding, it became the perfect place for them to gather and practice. Night after night the boys would roll up and down the parking lot, screaming and yelling, chiding each other as young boys will and generally raising hell. Pit stops were frequently made with heavy thuds up the deck stairs in a forage for food. Mary Kay would inveriably be called into service to make dozens of grilled cheese sandwiches for them as Chris rounded up drinks and whatever else was desired.

Kay and I had decided early on that Chris' friends were welcome to what ever was in the house, the only rule was that you ate what you opened. So they were all used to wandering around the kitchen or garage refrigerator searching for something to eat. It was not unusual to walk into the kitchen and see someones butt sticking out of the fridge, digging for something to eat or standing by the microwave, tapping their foot , waiting for what ever they had found to cook. Or as usually happened, all of them gathering in the kitchen eating, talking, screaming, hitting each other; all the things guys do. And usually Caranne would be in the middle of it as Chris always included her in his life.

If the guys weren't skateboading or horsing around on the trapoline, which is a story unto itself, then it was to the basement and a movie marathon. Chrisopher loved movies, all kinds of movies. His interests were many and the subject matter spanned a wide range from sci fi, action, horror and some esoteric material. Movie night would start with a case of Mountain Dew as they would caffienate themselves so they could stay up all night on their marathons and the home theater would be cranked up to 90db minimum and the twin sub woofers would shake the whole house as Kay and I would lay in bed trying to go to sleep.In between, footsteps could be heard taking 3 steps at a time up the stairs to raid the kitchen for more food or drink. The aftermath of such a night was always the same: bodies scattered around the basement floor, huddled in fetal positions, some blanketed, some not, plates, leftover food, cans everywhere and Christopher in the prime couch position, out cold, snoring lightly.

The kid was a veritable wealth of movie trivia and he had a photographic memory when relating a part of a movie, be it the visuals or the dialog. And I mean he could spout verbatim, the dialog of an entire sequence of some particular movie he liked. Many times he would come back from movie and tell me, " Dad you have got to see this movie, oh man  it was so cool, there was this one part where........." and off he would go, reciting the actual dialog along with the accompanying action sequences.

I would sit there amazed that he could remember in such minute detail, all the parts of the movie and if i would let him, he could have acted out the entire movie. Sometimes I would do this to him if he started going on too long: He would be talking and talking and I would put my hand up and say, "Stop, your story becomes tiresome", which is a line from a Saturday Night Live skit Mike Myer used to do. And then Chris would punch me in the arm or chest and call me a "Poo", which was my son's respectful way of calling his father an asshole!! And then we would both laugh and talk about the movie some more.

One of the funniest things he and I would do would be to recite dialog from the early Star Wars movies. We used to watch those movies together over and over and Kay would always complain about how we could sit there and watch the same thing time after time. So we would start reciting lines to her while she was standing around and it would drive her insane. One of our greatest joys was reciting the Darth Vader lines, the intent would be that he and I would compete to see who could sound most like him. This was the line we most recited: Darth Vader to Luke Skywalker: " And now Obi Wan's failure is complete". The emphasis always is on the word "complete" as in COM...plete. Actually we loved the line so much we would just repeat it to each other if we were working together or running errands, somehow it would just come up and we would sit there and laugh and recite line after line.Of course Chris was always better than me at this exercise because of his unbelievable memory.

So movies were one of my sons passions and one of his greatest joys in life. And one of the things that makes me the saddest as I write this piece is that I will never again look forward to a new movie like before. I will never experience the joy and excitement of his story telling and of going with him to Best Buy to get some new release on DVD that we had both been waiting for. He and I had both  looked forward to the upcoming final episode of Star Wars and had talked and speculated about how it might be and that we would invite his Aunt Luke to come to KC and see it with us. Now my joy and anticipation will be muted and the experience wil be hollow and if I go I will be hard pressed to enjoy it fully as I will be thinking of my son and what we both will be missing.

THE BIG CITY

He was a big city boy plain and simple. He grew up in a large metro city where  boundries run together and distinctions between one municipality and another are blurred, marked only by population signs signifying the change. From an early age he was ferried from one to another by parents who wandered far to find the best eating places or annual events like the St. Patricks Day Parade or The Plaza Art Fair or a new eatery on the outskirts of the city.

Teaching him to notice and learn the various landmarks necessary in making your way around a large metro area was difficult and sometimes exasperating as he had little interest in actually knowing where he was or had been. As long as he got there he cared little about what route was taken or what highway he was on. And although he may have recognized various landmarks from time to time, he could never tell you what part of town he was in or what road might get him there the next time. Try as we might, it seemed he would never figure out how to get around this city.

But slowly he caught on and the light in his head brightened and over time he came to understand how the roads intertwined and how to get to places he needed to go. Trip by trip he started to understand the ways of the city, the trouble spots, the traffic jams, the shortcuts, the surface streets and all the nuances necessary to travel this town more easily. Suddenly he understood and from that day on, he went without fear or hesitation to destinations across the Kansas City area, gaining experience and confidence and growing to be the big city boy he was.

He started with small trips to outlying areas of Overland Park, the new skate park in Olathe or a friends house on the outskirts of western Shawnee. Over time he traversed the entire city from Kansas City North to Belton and Harrisonville. To Chris, a trip to "O" town, Olathe, was a short drive, although in actuality, it was a 30min. trip that I would hate to take. Every time he would ask if he could go pick Brandson up, I would complain about how far it was and how bad the traffic was in Olathe. He would just say, " Oh dad, its not that far, I'll be back in a few, and oh, can I take the "R"?

During the summer months they made regular trips to Worlds Of Fun, a car load of them making the journey, sometimes during rush hour traffic. Other times it was a trip to Belton to see some friends or a trip to this skate park that was way out in the sticks in KC North. When he would get home we would find that he had been all over the city, visiting various places of interest. Trips to the skatepark in Lawrence were commonplace as were jaunts to Sandstone for a concert. He seldom complained about the traffic but would see more than his share of rude drivers, often telling one of his famous stories complete with gestures and sound effects. He came to know the city and its quirks and loved it all.

I had become so proud of his ability to get around the city and at his fearlessness in getting to a new place. I was especially happy that he had not grown up a Johnson County brat, unable to comprehend anything north of 75th street. It wasn't always like that but he learned and persevered and became a good driver of the roads.

 "CAN WE ORDER CHIEN"?

How many times did we hear that question over the years? To Christopher, a carry out order from Chien Dynasty was a gourmet meal, one he relished time after time. A large chicken fried rice, one sweet and sour chicken a fried wonton and an extra sweet and sour sauce was the standard order for our family and in reality it was for Chris, we just got the leftovers. He loved the fried rice and I don't recall how that love began but when the food showed up Chris was there with his bowl and fork in hand, tapping his foot, waiting his turn to load up.With a heaping bowl of fried rice he added the pieces of chicken from the sweet and sour container and then smothered it all in the bright red sauce. The rest of us would take a small spoonful of fried rice, all the vegetables from the sweet and sour, and if any was left, some plain steamed white rice. Oh the things we did for that kid! And the unspoken rule was that any leftovers were off limits to anyone but him, an undulgence we didn't mind.

Chris' tastes in food ran the gamut from steak and ribs,the ole' man's of course, to chicken fingers from Applebee's or Crapplebee's as I called it to plain mashed potatoes with butter, no gravy please.  For breakfast he had the "Jethro" cereal bowl which he would fill completely with Cinnamon Toast Crunch or Honey Nut Cheerios, heavy on the milk, which didn't always sit well with him as we thought he had some lactose intolerance issues. One day while I was shopping somewhere I ran across this ramen noodle product that came in a styrofoam bowl. It was similar to the cheapy 10 for a dollar ramen noodles but much higher quality and with a very spicy packet of seasonings that made a surprisingly tasty meal. One day Chris asked how they were as I had begun eating them regularly and no one had noticed. From that day forward I was forced to hide my noodle bowls from him as he took a considerable liking to them as did Caranne later on. I never got any after that!

Luckily, once he got to KState, he found that the Target had them for 79 cents and I think that became his staple diet in the dorm room. When he was younger,he ate fast food like most kids but once he got to high school his self discipline kicked in and he quit eating it almost entirely, for which I was extremely proud. He simply came home one day and stated that he was getting fat and he was swearing off fast food, and just like that, it became a thing of the past. Not to say that he didn't periodically consume it, but very seldom and when he did, he would thoughtfully consider whether he really wanted to.

Now at some point he and the guys got into the latenight Wendy's binge. This would become the only fastfood he would eat and only when they were having a movie marathon or were out about town late at night. The meal consisted of several junior bacon cheeseburgers of which the bacon, tomato and lettuce was discarded, french fries and a Frosty. Now, the purpose of the Frosty was to dip the french fries into, a delicacy that he claimed to have discovered, seriously! He told us the night he made this food find was while sitting in Wendy's eating with the buds when he noticed some girls at a nearby table watching them. I believe that was when he dipped a bunch of fries into the Frosty to gross them out or something like that. In any event, true or not, he claims to be the inventor of the concoction.

One of the last meals I made for my son was one of his favorites, mexican pork and chile. This recipe which I grew up eating was one of the few mexican recipes we made. Considered I would think, a poor man's meal, since we ate it as kids and we didn't have alot back then, it consists of browned pork steak cut into small cubes, diced canned tomatoes, and secret "family seasonings" blended together and simmered until the meat is tender and juicy. Along with what we call "sopa", or spanish rice and hot tortillas, it was a meal he loved and relished. Always proud of his heritage and family, Chris introduced this meal to all his friends and they too came to love it and many times the guys would show up, coincidentally i'm sure, on the days I was making it and proceed to eat their fill. The week before all of his friends went back for second semester, I made a huge pot of pork and chile and they all came over and had a last meal with us. A bittersweet meal to be sure, but we all ate and thought of Chris and how he would have been right there in the kitchen with us, laughing and smiling that smile, enjoying his family and his friends and his life.

THE TRAMPOLINE

From the time Chris was about 6 years old, the trampoline was a part of his life. It showed up one summer day after a shopping trip Kay had taken the kids on. This was our first summer in this home and the huge backyard begged for some clutter, this well known breaker of children's limb's, occupying the middle of the green grass. I was completely opposed to its presence having heard all the horror stories over the years about the dangers and pitfalls of owning these bouncing insurance liabilities. Of course, I was overruled by both wife and crying kid, so live with it I did, not willingly and always nervously. I imagined all sorts of maimings and broken appendages, cut heads, sprained backs and of course the worst fear, paralysis. Given to such fears as I had been over the years of things of this sort, I worried constantly as my six year old son, fearlessness embodied, began his life long love of the menacing apparatus.

It started slowly as expected, tentative, short hops, learning the feel of its spring, a young boy's excitement mixed with the unknown of a new thing, then more confident bounces as he learned to know the give and the feeling of leaving the rubber pad. Little by little his confidence grew and the bouncing began to increase in altitude and the smiles grew wider and hair blew wilder and his experience grew. I continued to fret and worry and was compelled to watch over his activities everytime he would bound down the deck stairs, run full steam across the backyard and launch himself onto the pad with the enthusiasm that was Christopher. Summer after summer and falls, some winters too, he bounced on that trampoline, learning and growing and playing, expanding his repertoire of tricks, all the while I continued to fret and worry.

At some point though, my worry subsided though I continued to monitor his activities on it as I became more comfortable with his ability and his ever amazing skill level. I don't recall at what point he began doing flips and summer saults and all sorts of twists midair and every other type of acrobatic trick but he excelled beyond my expectations and was truly impressive.

But the trampoline became more than Chris' playground, it became one of the social focal points in his life as more and more of his friends would find out about it and would show up to play. By the time he was in junior high, our house had become one of the party stops for friends on the weekends and summer evenings. It was common for a dozen or more friends to trickle over on any given evening and congregate around it, taking turns reliving their childhoods, acting as small kids, laughing hysterically as tricks were attempted,dares were made and showing off prevailed. Chris loved to show off his skills and was at his best when on center stage, running through his bag of tricks which was always expanding. His abilities by this point in his life were considerable as many hours had been spent honing his moves, ever able to repeat the tricks precisely.

The crowds used the trampoline not only for fun but for social interaction as well. Many times they would simply sit on it in large groups stretching and testing its limits, and talk until late at night, the sounds of laughter easily heard through the open windows. The guys also used it to bivouac many a night, staying up all night, roaming the neighborhood and returning to lay sleeping bags on its top. Morning would find them curled up inside their bags, food and cans scattered about, testament to their evenings fun.

As Chris' skateboarding skills developed so did his realization that this trampoline may have other unintended uses which he and Nathan soon put to the test. I came home one day to find them bouncing on it with their skateboards, trying to determine what if any tricks could be done. Now I'm not sure if the tricks they were doing were intended to increase their skill level with the skateboard or whether as I suspect,was just another way for them to seek some new form of entertainment and thrill seeking adventure. Another summer day I came home to find they had dragged that huge trampoline to the base of the upper deck and were launching themselves off the deck onto the tramp below. With each jump they would spring back up beyond the top rail of the deck,both of them laughing hysterically with joy at their new found activity. As always, I would have to yell at them for being idiots, all the while, chuckling under my breath at their brazen courage. Those two were always up to something and it generally meant someone was going to get hurt, and eventually it happened.

Ever seeking a new high, Nate and Chris had started doing some sort of gymnastic trick where they would do carttwheels on the trampoline and then finish by literally flinging themselves off the trampoline, flipping midair, and finishing by landing on the ground, feet first, if all went well. Now as I recall, I believe this activity may have been started by Nick's girlfriend, Christin. She was and may still be an accomplished gymnist and she was here frequently with the boys as were many of their female companions and I know they were impressed at her abilities. Well as can be imagined, they would not be outdone.

On that summer day,several of them were here in the backyard horsing around on the tramp. Suddenly, Nick I believe came running in the back door yelling that Nate had hurt himself. Kay and I had just been out on the deck watching them and I recall being concerned at the trick they were doing. I ran out back where they were gathered around Nathan who lay prostrate, face down in the grass. Chris or someone brilliantly says, " I think he broke his arm." Well, I look at Nate's arm which lay rigid, at a rather curious angle, a distended thick bump protruding against the skin of his forearm, a telltale sign of a rather bad break.

Poor Nate lay in the grass, his back hot and sweaty, people over him, nervously laughing and simultaneously concerned at his condition. The ambulance showed in the church parking lot, his condition assesed, and off to the hospital he went. As to be expected, several weeks later, still with cast on arm, I find him and Christopher BACK on the trampoline, jumping flips, not a care in the world! Good God, together, those two were something else!

The final demise of the trampoline was later the following year as once again, a large contingent of friends crowded the backyard. They had again gone to manuevering the trampoline to the base of the deck and were at their old tricks again, launching from the top of the deck to the tramp below. Females had been enlisted this time and I believe it was Kelly's boyfriend, who commited the final " coup de grace." My understanding is, he took his turn from the top of the deck, landed on the tramp, and proceeded THROUGH the trampoline  to the ground below! Well, so much for the trampoline. I think they thought we would be mad about the accident, but the truth is far different: we were relieved. Finally, I was shed of that damn thing and would not have to worry about Chris or his friends anymore.

Well, just this past summer of 2004, I came home again to find Chris and his friends in the backyard, with another trampoline! Barely a years reprieve and they were back at it, Chris intently sorting through the springs, looking for the best ones which would provide the highest bounce. Seems that Joel's parents had decided to get rid of their menace and my son, in his infinite wisdom, happily relieved them of their problem. I remember his joy at his luck at finding it, certain I would be happy at his forture. I just  shook my head as I watched them meticulously sort thru the springs, carefully attaching them to the pad, until finally, the beast was ready and off they went, backflips, frontflips, half gainers, as if they had never missed a beat.

I have awaken almost every morning about 3am since Chris' death and made my usual trip to the kitchen for a glass of water. For some reason I have felt compelled all these weeks, to look out the back door and gaze at the trampoline, standing in the west side of the yard. Every night I have been sure that when I look, I will see my son, on that trampoline, broad smile across his handsome face, flying through the air, gazing back at me, knowingly.

OF LOST PETS

Christopher is gone, our pets he saved single handedly, Red Cheeks, the cockateil and Shadow, the male tabby, are still with us, safely at home. It seems unfair that he is gone and the deeds done out of love and concern for his family and beloved pets, live on with us today, a reminder once again of his tender heart.

Both incidents occured during our usual summer weekends, lounging, the kids doing nothing in particular but both events caused deep concern and anguish. The first was the bird incident. Caranne, with bird on shoulder as is so often the case, went out to the garage to get a drink, forgetting that Red Cheeks was on her shoulder. Not realizing until it was too late, that the garage door was open, she bounded out the door to the garage, the bird was startled and immediately flew off his perch and out to the beyond.

We heard Caranne screaming for help and Chris was the first one out the door, racing full speed down the sidewalk, screaming, "Red Cheeks, Red Cheeks!"

I followed, also screaming, " What the hell's going on?" Not realizing exactly why everyone was in an uproar, but screaming and yelling non the less. Mary Kay brought up the rear, chasing me, chasing Christopher, chasing Caranne, down the street, and around the corner, trying desparately to keep an eye on the ever departing dot, that was the bird.

Luckily, Christopher's eagle eyes had been able to keep sight of him and saw him hole up in a skinny tree about 4 houses away on 116th terr. The bird, frightened and panicked could be seen in his high perch, breathing rapidly, unsure of what he had just done, and looking quite bewildered. There we all stood, underneath this tree, on the curb, looking upward through the leaves, mulling over our options.

The extension ladder seemed the best idea and off I ran, to fetch it while Chris and Caranne yelled and pleaded for Red Cheeks to come down, hoping desparately he wouldn't again take flight. Ladder in hand we stood it up against the tree only to find we were a long way from reaching the bird which by this time had moved higher up the limbs.

Thus was the beginning of a very long Sunday afternoon as the bird moved from tree to tree, ever further down the block. Chris and I spent the time running up and down the street, ladder in hand as two firemen, racing to put out a fire. Neighbors gathered, gawking and conversing at our plight as Kay and Josie worked hard to keep track of the ever adventurous bird, flitted erratically from tree to tree. Christopher by this time had scaled many trees, aided by the ladder and my completely useless suggestions, in a vain attempt to retrieve the bird from what was in my mind, an almost hopeless situation.

We had employed all manner of equipment by this time in hopes of either scaring the bird down or shooting him down figuratively,with rubber balls and long pieces of wood. Chris was furiously trying everything he could think of and in his usual manner, would not give up. No idea was too outrageous and under no circumstances was failure an option. We would get the bird! I was, after several hours, not so convinced and as early evening fell, I knew our time was running short.

By this time Chris has climbed up a dozen trees, had thrown footballs, soccer balls, blocks of wood, anything he could find in an attempt to force Red Cheeks either to lower elevations or to a better, less limbed tree. I for my part, was getting frustrated at our lack of progress and was feeling more certain we were fighting a lost cause. Caranne and Chris though, never gave up and his eternal optimism bouyed us all.

Several times Chris and I would stop to measure our progress, wondering the next step. " I don't know dad, what do you think?" He would ask more than once that day.

" I don't know bud."

"Well maybe if we got him over to that tree, I could get up it easier." I would ponder his suggestion, "I don't know Christopher, its pretty high, I don't want you falling." And so it went, Chris and I performing for the neighbors, conducting our version of a fire drill, ladder in hand and Kay and Caranne, bobbing heads in a vain attempt to keep track of the birds movements.

By now, evening had fallen and I had certainly decided all was lost. But not Chris. No way was he going home without his sister's bird. I was almost aggravated that he would not give up as we had been at this task for the better part of the day. When I had concluded we were just not going to salvage this cause, fate finally blew our way.

In one final attempt to get to the bird, Chris was able to chase him to a rather sizable, but climbable tree only three houses from our own. By now in the almost sunless sky, Red Cheeks was visible only to Chris. We gathered below the tree, looking upward through the canopy of limbs and large leaves in a vain attempt to ascertain the bird's location. Chris was confident he was up there and periodically  would hear a familiar chirping. This was surely our last chance for the evening and if this failed, my feeling was we would never see the bird again.

Chris knew this too and up the tree he went, scurrying like those natives you see climbing for coconuts, hand over hand, his feet gripping the trunk of the tree, his ever present skating shoes clinging tightly to the bark. After just a few minutes, he was gone!

It was now fully dark as the three of us stood in some neighbor's backyard, gazing upwards to a son we couldn't see and a bird we were not fully convinced was up there. "How you doing?" I would ask. "OK, I see him, he's just sitting on this limb looking at me." He replied.

"He looks pretty tired, I don't think he's going to fly off." "Are you close?" I asked him. " Yeah, I'm almost there, he's just looking at me."

The whole time this is happening, Chris could be heard talking to Red Cheeks, soothing him,talking baby talk to him, anything to make sure he understood Chris was there to help. Chris was not visible at all from the ground, only his voice could be heard and the rustling of leaves and periodically an " Oh shit, that hurt!" as he would bump his head or scrape his leg on the branches.

Finally, the words came, " I GOT HIM!" Chris excitedly exclaimed. We laughed and cryed and nervously waited to hear if he was okey. It so happened that Chris was wearing a pair of baggy khaki jeans that had huge pockets sewn on the outside like big pillows attached to them. "I put him in my pocket." he said. "Make sure you close it so he doesn't get out." I suggested, as if Chris hadn't thought of the most obvious. Slowly we could hear him scaling back down the tree, carefully stopping along the way to check on the now exhausted bird in his pocket.

By the time Chris dropped out of the tree it was fully dark and we were all so thankful he had managed to retrieve Red Cheeks. His sister hugged him and Chris said to her, " There you go Banner." which was Chris' nickname for Caranne as he carefully showed her the bird was carefully secured in his pocket.

I gathered the ladders and walked ahead of them, nervously shaking and thanking God we had averted a near calamity. The three of them walked behind, talking and laughing as again, Chris recounted in detail, his adventure climbing the tree. We gathered in the warm comfort of the kitchen as Chris carefully pulled Red Cheeks from his leg pocket and placed him in his cage. Arms scraped and clothes dirty and sweaty, Chris smiled that smile as he quenched his thirst, leaning against the counter, looking proudly as Red Cheeks rested quietly. 

 THE SHADOW CAT

Later that summer, our second brush with pet disaster occured. As is our daily routine, the cats are let outside to play a couple of times a day. This chore falls to whomever get annoyed first at the cats constant whining and pawing at the back door. This day, Mary Kay was the first to cry "uncle". The only problem was that it was already late in the evening, the sun having already set when she unthinkingly, let Shadow out the backdoor. Now, no one will ever accuse Shadow of being a smart animal. He is a dearly sweet, gentle feline, but he is not wise in the ways of the world, and that includes his brief forays to the wilderness he knows as the backyard. We have always limited their time outdoors as we know too well, the nature of cats and their penchant for exploring far and wide.

Although Shadow has never strayed from the familiarity of the surrounding yards nor shown any inclination to crossing the street, we have always worried that someday he may get the ferile yearnings to explore beyond his normal boundries. So it was to be that night.

As late evening arrived, someone, I'm not sure who, realized Shadow was not in the house and an immediate panic shook the family as all of us, alarmed at the prospect of a missing animal, took to the north and south of the house, combing the bushes and neighboring yards for our missing member. Caranne and Chris were most alarmed and searched high and low, to no avail. Kay and I, armed with flashlights and pleas for " kitty," moved beyond the normal boundries to the far reaches of the church and the adjacent neighborhoods.

At about 2 in the morning, as my recollection is, the search was abandoned as fatigue and stress took its eventual toll on all. I was convinced we had seen the last of Shadow, though tried to keep a confident front for the kids. Chris as always was sure this was no more than a late night dalliance for his " Sad Man," a one time pleasure he was taking full advantage of, his eventual return all but assured.

I don't believe anyone slept well that night as worries of a missing man, plagued our thoughts. Many times we had seen the "LOST CAT" signs plastered to trees and mailboxes, as owners of never to be seen pets, tried in vain to recover their precious companions. We knew all too well the prospects of recovering our pet, especially the more time passed without any signs. Morning came too swiftly and back to the search everyone went.

Kay and I traveled up and down Antioch, ever fearful we would find a flattened Shadow carcass lying in the road. The day was warm as joggers and dog walkers passed us, looking bewildered as we pressed on in our search, calling his name incessantly. East and west of Antioch we traveled, while Josie and Chris, armed with flyers made before bedtime, moved further north and south, constantly calling his name and asking neighbors and strangers alike for any sightings and posting the flyers on lamp posts and mailboxes.

Chris finally decided mobility was the most productive way to find our family member and set out with Caranne by car to search even further. I had long decided we were fighting the proverbial lost cause. No one had seen the cat, no one. Not a single lead, not a bread crumb, nothing! Kay and I had walked all day, searching bushes, decks, backyards too many to count, sewers, storm drains, every place a bewildered house cat might take refuge. He had to be lost or worse yet, had been hit by a car and injured or worse, was lying in some distant ditch or brush, left to die a lonely death. It was a thought we could not allow spoken out loud, yet the prospects of such a scenario were becoming painfully possible.

By this time, Sunday evening, night had fully fallen, and the labors of the entire day, had borne no fruit and hope was fading fast. Shadow had been gone fully 24 hours and Kay and I had pretty much decided to call it a day. Once again, my son, ever optimistic, chose to carry on alone, his outlook on life ever bright. I was bemused that he could have such faith and strength of outlook, that he would not give up the cause.

We tried as best we could to console Caranne, but she too had lost her ability to put a positive spin on what was sure to be a sad ending for her precious cat. It was well past 11 pm and we retired to bed, fearful Shadow was never to return and genuinely forlorn at our loss. Not Chris.

As we retired to the bedroom, Christopher, recharged with nourishment and drink, headed out armed with only a flashlight and his indomitable spirit, sure "Shad" could be found. I felt so guilty as I lay there that my son should carry on the search single handedly. I heard the Honda start up and quickly fade as Chris drove off into the night, midnight well approaching.

Sleep, though fitful, came swiftly as the long day demanded our rest. Sometime, about 3 in the morning, we were startled as one is when a phone anxiously rings you awake, to the sounds of our son yelling:

" I found him!"

Christopher barged into the bedroom at full dead run, Shadow, wrapped tightly in his big strong arms, that ever present Chris smile plastered across his face! Our unbelieving eyes, big at the sudden waking, were astounded.

" I told you I'd find him." Chris crowed, breathlessly.

"Where did you find him?" we asked in unison.

" I was driving down 115th Terr. real slow looking in all the front yards." he explained.

" I was getting to the end of the block and I was looking in the bushes of the houses, shining my flashlight and I saw some eyes shine."

"I thought it was a opposum or something but it didn't move, so I stopped and yelled, "Shadow." he said, still out of breath, that light happy tone in his voice.

" So I parked the car and walked up to the house." he said.

"The whole time I'm calling his name and I realized it was a cat."

"But I looked close, and I didn't think it was Shadow." he said quizzically.

" The cat didn't move though and when I called his name again, he stood up and walked towards me."

" What was he doing?" I asked

"He was just sitting in these bushes like he does when he's here at home." he said.

" He didn't look scared or anything." Chris said.

"When he came to me, I realized it was him and I just picked him up and walked to the car."

"When I put him in the car, he stood in the seat and put his paws on the dashboard and watched as I drove home." Chris explained, his voice proud and bright.

It is hard to convey in this writing, the pride and excitement in Chris' voice as he recounted his tale of Shadow's rescue. For those of you who have been regaled of one of his many stories, you are sure to hear as you read his words, that distinctive, excitement his voice carried.

We were astonished that he had stayed up most of the night, after spending the entire day searching for that damn cat and could scarcely believe we had been so fortunate. Chris on the other hand, never doubted he would be found. His unwavering optimism once again served him and us well as it had done many times before. His strength of character and his dogged determination had saved our family from a heart breaking loss.

Shadow and Chris shared a deep connection, possibly born that night, a connection we saw over the years in their daily interactions. The "Sad Man's" affection for Chris was easily observed as they would play and wrestle, with playful nipping at his hands if Chris got too rough or carried on too long. The Shadow would always come back for more, curling around Chris's leg, looking for more attention and praise.

He looked after Chris when he would get the migraines, laying with him the entire day, never leaving his side: everytime, without fail. And now, Shadow joins me in that same bedroom when I go to lie in Chris' bed, to comfort myself. He sometimes looks at me from the foot of the bed with a puzzled expression, as if wondering why I am there. But he always joins me: everytime, without fail.

THE LEGEND

Last summer, I decided I was tired of always driving my company van and wanted a real car of my own. I searched the classifieds for a car I had always liked, an Acura Legend. They quit making them in 1995, but at the time, it was Acura's flagship car, loaded with every available option. Chris of course was always a Honda company enthusiast, since his earliest days of watching and becoming knowledgeable in car matters and was naturally excited at the prospects of getting another Honda product.

He helped me shop and evaluate the various "for sale" ads and we finally found  a pearl white coupe which was harder to come by. The car was in Dallas and had been shipped over from Honolulu by the owner and had low miles on it. A road trip was in order.

We left early in the morning and had planned our route carefully, estimating how long it would take us to go down and back in one day. We rented a car one way so that we could drive the car back together. We left very early in the morning and Chris slept for some time and awoke around Wichita. For those who have made the trip down 1-35 south through Oklahoma, it is a boring stretch of badly worn highway, with little to distinguish itself. We had estimated about 7 hours to get to Dallas and were well on our way, making good time.

The events of the trip down are not particularly noteworthy. What is, is that we, as father and son shared the hours together, talking and laughing, reminiscing about old times and planning new adventures.

We talked about favorite movies, past and upcoming. Chris regaled me many of his never ending stories: of people, places, experiences-all the many things he marveled at and enjoyed.

He spoke enthusiastically of the new trips he had comtemplated overseas- how he would spend his summers in Australia and Mexico, traveling and living as a "local", making his way, supporting himself as he went.

We talked of eventually visiting Europe as a family, going to England and Spain and Rome, and of him enrolling in a foreign school program at K State, where he could get class credit for living and studying in one of those countries.

I told him of my plans of returning to the South Pacific,both of us- how I wanted to share with him my love of the tropical islands of Samoa. I wanted him to experience my old stomping grounds, show him the rat infested hut I lived in and the sights of the country. I told him of how we would dive the ocean all day, living and seeing sights most only see on television.

I wanted to share the experience of traveling as two vagabonds,with only a backpack and our sense of adventure to guide us: making no firms plans and staying for as long as we desired, till homesickness called us back.

Caranne called it my "crisis car", as in midlife crisis. I don't think that was it at all. Chris's love of cars had sparked in me a new "kid like" enthusiasm and interest, something I had never really had in cars before. His passion for all things "car", compelled me against my better judgement, to purchase a vehicle for absolutely no valid reason.

It felt good and was fun to share the experience with him, knowing full well frankly, he would get more use of it than I and that was fine by me. I thought maybe I would keep it a year or two, let him tinker with it, enjoy it occasionally, and then sell it.

My secret plan after that was to save some mad money: slowly stashing away the funds to one day surprise him and find a Nissan Skyline, his must have "dream car." We would, I envisioned, work on it together over a few years, tricking it out, letting him make modifications to it as the project continued. It would be a one of a kind car in the KC area, one I knew he would be proud of.

I imagined him tooling around town, his pink sunglasses on, his face beaming, styling in the right hand drive import. Pie in the sky dreams to be sure, but Chris brought those out in me, his infectious love of life and all things made these kinds of dreams seem possible. He loved his life so much, apppreciated all the things that were given to him, never taking them or his family and friends for granted. He made me dream and imagine because his love and energy was  so contagious.  I truly was a better person for my son.

THE GARAGE DOOR

From the time Chris was old enough to stay out late, till midnight or later, the sound of the garage door opening became the most comforting of sounds. The first hum of the motor starting up and the steady creaking and firm heavy clicks, as each section of the heavy wooden door folded and lifted, assured us as we lay in bed, that he had once again returned home safely: securely back to the nest.

No evenings rest was ensured until that familiar rhythmic mechanized sound filtered through the bedroom from the garage on the opposite wall.

How we came to rely on and anticipate the nightly occurence goes hand in hand with a child's maturing and growing, as they outstreach their wings, venturing further from the security of home and the control of your grasp.

Chris was from his toddler years, constantly running from our reach, always looking for more distance, more space, new places to explore. So much so that we experimented out of desperation with the dreaded " kiddy leash", in an attempt to keep our wandering son closer to our side.

Demeaning as it seemed, it was incumbent on us to do what we could to keep him safe, out of harms way. We so feared losing him as he struggled to venture far from our parental net.

But they grow and demand their freedom and you have to give them some room. They insist you not worry, but you do as all manner of pitfalls fill your tormented worried minds. It is the way of good parents to worry so, as it is the way of teens to venture further from home for longer and longer interludes, intent on tugging the apron strings to their breaking point.

So Chris did, constantly asking and demanding more freedom, more time away from the safe confines of our home. Luckily, Chris loved his home and his parents and sister, never thinking us an embarrasment or burden as so many teens do. Many times the soljourns were brief, often returning with many to the comfort of the basement, content to play host, the need for continual galavanting unnecessary.

On those times, we rested, secure in the knowledge no harm would come. The other times were those that cultivated and nurtured our need to hear the heart warming sounds of the garage door.

Leaving on those evenings with the usual declaration:

"Padre, I'm taking off."

"When are you coming home?" I would quiry

"Depends on what we end up doing." he would always say.

It'll probably be late though, I'll call and check in." he would promise.

And he usually did call later to update us on his whereabouts, assuring us he was not drinking and driving, an activity we had long spoken about and warned. We had no illusions that our son did not periodically imbibe. Chris was always honest about that as he was about most things in his life. He was not a good liar, bless his heart, it did not come easily or comfortably to him.

And to be sure, and we were: Chris never drank if he was driving.

So the years of parental dread went: Chris going out with friends for the evening or "all nighters", returning later the next day.

On the evenings when he was expected home later, sleeping was usually not an option, try as we may want , the thought of going to bed while he was out had the feel of abandoning our parental duty, a duty we took to heart.

So we would lie in bed, watching the television and the clock simultaneously,counting the hours, dozing off only to suddenly wake at the first noise, thinking our treasured son returning. This would be repeated as the evening wore on, hour by hour, checking the clock, lifting our heads off the comfort of the pillow, straining to hear that familiar sound of his return.

When finally the comforting sound would begin, a warmth would fill the room, portending his arrival. Breath would be held until the creaking of the inner door opening and closing, the heavy padded thumps of his bulky skaters shoes , filtered through the laundry room and down the bedroom hallway: home safely again.

As we sighed deeply, exhaling all the pent up anxiety that filled our bodies, sounds of Chris searching the kitchen for a late night snack trickled to the bedroom- refrigerator opening and closing, glasses and dishes clanking noisily; all reassuring, welcome sounds in the middle of the night.

Always he would eventually, quietly tread down the hallway to our room and whisper:

"I'm home..... good night..... love you".

And then quietly his footsteps could be heard, climbing the stairs to his room, carefully making his way in the dark. For a few moments the familiar steps could be heard from the floor above, his bedroom sharing part of our ceiling, as he performed his nightly routine, readying himself for bed.

Sometimes a late night conversation could be eavesdropped on, as he and Caranne exchanged stories of their respective evenings activities. Sometimes he would engage in an all night " mini movie" marathon, watching one of his many loved flicks until the early morning hours.

He would sleep late the next day, rising around noon, bleary eyed, in his boxers, like an old man, searching for something to drink, and always with a tired smile on his beautiful face.