Oh, my friend, I miss you. I can’t believe you’re gone. The news of your all too sudden passing hit me hard and left a crater bigger than that meteorite one we visited back in 2004. Remember that trip? We sang songs and took pictures and marveled at this ginormous dent in the ground that was made by a strange ball from outer space. Did you know that you could have that kind of impact? I hope so.

You gave me huge sunglasses so that I could look fabulous like you. You taught me that stars had stories. You put your stub in your mouth and made people think you were swallowing a whole hand. You cracked me up, all.the.time.

I didn’t see you for years. I meant to. I kept planning a visit. But you would be busy or I would be busy or we would both be busy…and/or broke. And the visit never happened. Except now it IS happening. I am coming to your hometown. I am finally making the trip. It was so easy… rent a car, book a hotel, just go. It was so very easy and I didn’t do it while your heart was still beating. And now I’ll never get another long evening of rambling philosophical discussions that seem to go nowhere but somehow illuminate a little corner of the vast unknown and leave me feeling lighter. There will never be another trip to the laundromat with an impromptu stop for ice cream or Thai food or sushi. You, who created amazing art in multiple forms and encouraged others to do the same, will never meet my most beautiful creation. My son. He would hold your face and stare into your eyes and you would say something hilarious and perfect and true and I would know that you “got” him. Because you were so good at that, at getting people… the wacky, weird, wonderful beings who were lucky to be counted among your friends.

And people say Rest In Peace, but you know what? I hope you aren’t resting. I hope that some part of you is continuing to evolve, to experience, to question and learn and inspire and create. I hope that if there is an afterlife, you are tearing shit up and partying with the cool kids and figuring out all the answers, or at least most of them. I hope that if you are reincarnated, you become my son’s best friend, because I still can’t imagine not having you in my life.  And I know you would be the most wonderful friend to him. Even when you get into trouble. I’d much rather have him getting in trouble with you.

Christian, I love you. I still don’t understand how you can be here one day and gone the next, but I am glad that at least it was a relatively peaceful exit. Maybe you were just so highly evolved that your body stopped and you left, like an advanced Tibetan lama. Maybe there is no reason. Yet again, you’ve left me with some pretty intense questions to ponder.

Star gazer, soul searcher, calligrapher, designer, historian, comedian, crazy beautiful kind radiant friend. You are deeply loved, fiercely missed, and forever a part of me.