FAMILY FRIEND
Before I even met Chris, I knew him through Taya. I was curious, of course, but not overly so until the first time I heard her talking to him on the phone.
Taya was very guarded at that stage in her life. She had a successful career, a confident air, and a brilliant ability to make people laugh with her quick wit and charismatic ways. But there was a whole other side to her—a deeply loving, nurturing, vulnerable side that very few were allowed to see. I remember her sitting in the backseat of my car, talking quietly on the phone in gentle, almost giggling tones to this new man she had met. She sounded so young, so happy. Her reaction to him made me very curious.
When I first met Chris, I had to laugh. He was a mix of gentleman and instigator with a twist of overgrown puppy. He was youthful then—playful, polite, and unhindered by political correctness. Taya and Chris both had a happy flush in their faces when they were together. He was smart enough to keep up with her, gentle enough to gain her trust, and playful enough to make her life fun.
Chris was also very observant. I remember being impressed when Taya told me that Chris had delivered the perfect coffee to her one morning early in their relationship. She had never told him how she took her coffee, so she asked how he knew. He had simply paid attention. He was like that; he had a keen eye for detail.
He was also a lot smarter than most people recognized. He didn’t flaunt it, but you could see it in the way he processed things. And he loved crossword puzzles. Whenever he came to stay with our family during the holidays, they were a staple by the bedside—and all around the house, for that matter.
I loved to tease Chris about being my punk little brother. He was great to tease—always laughing and happy to give it back. He was fantastic with my kids. We all have fond memories of him hog-tying my then eight-year-old stepson and challenging him to find his way out of the knots. He knew how to empower through rough play, yet somehow the nurturer in him always knew when to quit so that it remained fun for everyone.
I remember early glimpses of the deeper side of Chris. I especially remember the stricken look on his face when he took a very brief break from Taya’s side as she went through labor with their son. It was a horrific experience, and Taya was passing in and out of consciousness as she attempted to give birth. Chris had been with her nonstop, hour after hour. At one point he came out to the hospital lobby. His father stood and Chris walked straight to him in long strides, his face tight and etched with pain, and embraced him. The emotion was palpable. It was pure, raw, barely restrained, and I’ll never forget it.
Over time, the need to survive day-to-day life hardened them both. I remember Chris coming back from war, still joking and laughing, but no longer an innocent youth. He was a man trying to reintegrate, and although he was a loving father and husband, his fuse was shorter. There were still times, though, when I was struck by his softer, less jaded side. He was playful and gentle when he interacted with children, he was patient and kind with horses, and more than once I saw him hold a puppy with a tenderness that I have rarely seen in a full-grown man.
I never respected Chris more than when he made the decision to leave the military. It was not something he wanted to do, but he chose to be a father and husband to a family that needed him to take a bigger part in their lives. For me, that is the selfless act that has meant the most. He was very blunt in saying that it was a choice he was struggling with, and yet he was able to stand by his choice and work to make that choice a positive one for everyone. He never stopped remaining open to his family and he was ultimately an amazing husband and father who cherished those roles.
Even after his book, his notoriety always caught me by surprise. He still preferred a quiet holiday with his family or an evening on the porch swing, surrounded by family and longtime friends. It was easy to forget that there were so many looking up to him.
I knew Chris over the course of many years, but I didn’t know him as well as I would have liked. In the days surrounding Chris’s memorial, I had the extraordinary privilege of spending time with some of the people Chris valued. They were amazing, accomplished, thoughtful, and strong. His loss affected them all so deeply.
The public response honoring him was overwhelming and awe inspiring. It is something I will never forget—and it made me even more aware of how many people he touched in the time he spent on earth. There were a lot of layers to him—and the more I know, the more I wish I would have known.