Some of my most Favorive memories of Christopher - By Esther Francis

As I sit here thinking of all the memories I have of Christopher and John growing up I cannot fathom how to put them into words and have them expressed in just a few short paragraphs. I am not the best with words and writing so this will be short, although with all of my love and memories I could write for days. In the weeks following the accident it has been through my Faith that I have found comfort, comfort in knowing that Christopher is okay, comfort in knowing that he is with his grandfathers, Benny, and Charles, and comfort knowing he and John will someday meet again, crack a few jokes, and spend eternity making up for lost time. My Faith also has me believe that he is watching over us, protecting and listening. And I pray that in the following paragraphs as I share my most fond memories of him that somewhere he too is listening and smiling that crooked innocent smile remembering the good times as we are right now.

The memories began the first time Christopher and Kevin ever came to Windy Hill to play with John; they were in kindergarten I think, an age that after hearing this story might have you question my supervision skills. I was in the house and heard the kids come running inside, Kevin and John were crying, John’s was fake, and Kevin’s was real, Christopher was just staring at me with a look on his face like to say, “Idiots”. Come to find out, John had shot Kevin with the BB gun, Kevin said it hurt, so to prove it didn’t John shot himself. So there I was, keeping Ken and Anne’s children for the first time and one of them had been shot and the other probably traumatized. I quickly loaded up the boys and took them home wondering what I would tell Ken and Anne. While in car I said, “Oh Lord, your parents will probably never let you come back”, and Kevin quickly reassured me, “You’re probably right Mrs. Barksdale.” This became a joke Christopher and I would never let die. I know as he thinks about it now it puts a smile on his face.

Needless to say, Kevin was wrong, and Christopher returned to Windy Hill and I began to watch him and John grow up together. In the early years I can remember their favorite thing to do was to pump hundreds of gallons of water throughout the day into Jamie’s crop creating a network of rivers, rapids, and waterfalls that they called ‘Waterworks’. I do not know how or what made them do it, but just like everything else they did together, it was understood by the two of them and no one else mattered. Whatever it was they were doing out there, they loved it. As I think about Christopher today I can see him sitting out there in the mud, smiling and laughing as if it were just yesterday.

Although they sat in the mud and played ‘Waterworks’ every day in the summer together, when it came time for vacation they certainty weren’t ready for a break from each other. Christopher went to the beach with us every summer for one or two weeks. How they didn’t get tired of each other I do not know. Whether it was finding them curled up in a bed together that one of them had wet or riding two-seater Go-karts when one-seaters were readily available, they were inseparable - which reminds me of another one of my favorite memories of Christopher at the Go-karts. Warren Beale had taken John and Christopher to the Go-karts and for some reason Christopher grabbed the muffler and burnt his hand pretty badly. He came home teary eyed looking for comfort. Unfortunately he told Charles exactly what had happened, leading to Charles’ heartwarming “Are you stupid?” response. Christopher immediately burst into tears and spent the rest of the afternoon moping around the cottage. In recent years when Christopher and John would come home from school and have dinner with me and Vernie, we would often tell this story and laugh about Charles’ dry sense of humor and how much we missed him. I bet Charles is giving him hell about it right now saying, “Son, why would you grab a hot muffler?”

But Christopher if you’re listening I have saved my most favorite memory for last. After Benny passed, John and I would only stay at Windy Hill alone if Christopher was there. Why? I do not know. For some reason this lanky, one hundred and six pound 7th grader was going to protect us from any outside danger. But as strange as it sounds, he did. So like clockwork on Friday afternoons I would pick up John and Christopher from their baseball game and we would head to Windy Hill for the weekend. On Saturday mornings I would cook them breakfast and especially for Christopher I would make hand squeezed orange juice. I thought it was his absolute favorite and the least I could do considering he was ‘protecting’ Windy Hill. I would tell him the night before, “I bought fresh oranges today!” And he would smile and say, “Thank you Mrs. Barksdale, I cannot wait.” However, what I didn’t know was that Christopher hated the orange juice. John knew he didn’t like it and to mess with him had told me how Christopher loved it. Christopher being too sweet to tell me otherwise spent most likely four or five years of his adolescent life drinking pulp filled orange juice that he hated every weekend for breakfast with a smile on his face. Finally one day many years later I made the orange juice again for the boys and they began hysterically laughing. John broke down and told me the whole story and how long it had been going on. They were something else when they were together and I sure am going to miss it.

Christopher was one of the most unique and lovable people I have ever had to chance to meet. I could tell stories of fond and funny memories all day because each moment I spent with him left a lasting impression in my heart. I loved him as a son and will mourn his death for years to come. Losing him so tragically has at times caused me to question my Faith, but I know in my heart God has taken him home and he is in a much better place. So until we meet again Christopher, keep an eye out for John and don’t let him do anything you wouldn’t have him do.  I love and miss you, your second mom, Mrs. Barksdale.