Remembering Catherine Joyce Christie
I experienced one of those rare moments of great salience wherein words were given me to speak as if I had prepared for that moment for hours spread over days or even weeks. All my trepidation over coming to the service for Catherine had disappeared. I woke up, dressed up, showed up, and when it was time, I stood up and spoke up.
I wish I could remember the words that flowed from me so effortlessly as I stood before her family and friends. I started out by remarking how appropriate it was that when I walked in the room, I heard a violin playing. Violin was her first and favorite instrument though she also played piano well. I told of our first date on June 30th, 2019, that began by attending church and ended with music.
After church we went to brunch, and then after brunch I asked if she would mind joining me for one of the things I liked to do on a Sunday afternoon. I took her to Sam Ash music store. The thing I liked to do was take my mouthpiece into the story and pretend I was shopping for a new trumpet. Then I would tryout any high-end professional instruments they had. I encouraged Catherine to get into the spirit of the cause and try out some violins. She picked up a nice professional violin. I encouraged her to play something, anything. The first thing that came to mind was to play Amazing Grace. She started and I joined her playing harmony with a very nice silver Getzen professional model. That was one of those spontaneous moments that went so well as if we had rehearsed it, and I thought, “We will make beautiful music together.”
I don’t recall everything I said at Catherine’s service. I probably remarked about how happy I was to read in her obituary that she listed kayaking as something she enjoyed. That was something we did together. I vaguely recall mentioning how the pleasant Sunday dinners we shared were a novelty to her, as tensions emanating from her fathers’ struggles had preempted such experiences in her childhood. I do clearly recall taking Catherine camping toward the end of our relationship. We brought my daughter Asha along as our chaperone. When we first got to camp as I was unloading Catherine’s SUV, I tossed Asha a tent bag and said, “Asha, put up that tent.” Catherine’s reaction was to remark, “What a mean dad!”
I let the comment slide. I knew that Catherine was struggling with a decision that weekend. She had been invited to accept a role as a discussion leader for Bible Study Fellowship (BSF). I had served in BSF for seven years as an administrative leader. I knew that one thing leaders should not do is get caught up in dwelling upon their own unworthiness. I also knew from personal experience and academic study that people who have been through adverse childhood experiences tended to do exactly that, dwell on a persistent sense of unworthiness and low value. Catherine’s struggles in this regard had been further exacerbated by traumatic events and relationships in adulthood.
It wasn’t until we were packing up camp on the third day that I got to address the comment. I told her, “When we got to camp, I tossed Asha a tent bag and told her to put up a tent. Your immediate reaction was to call me a mean dad. However, you did not understand what I was doing in that moment. You did not appreciate that Asha has been camping with me since she was six years of age. I am confident that she is quite capable of setting up a tent. When I tossed her that tent bag, I was not being mean. Quite the opposite, I was giving her a chance to show off to you that she knows how to set up a tent. In the same way, when God tossed you this opportunity to serve in BSF, it was because God knows your capabilities. God is giving you the opportunity to demonstrate that capability and gift.”
I do remember how I closed. I told them: On my desk at work, I have a shadow box that Catherine gave me that says, “Many of my smiles begin with you.” Catherine had a very pretty smile. I consider the degree to which I was able to make Catherine smile a good service this world.
After the service I spoke to Catherine’s family. I spoke to her nephew John and told him about the music video I was working on. The Divine speaks in irony. I began working on the music video for La Vie En Rose, in the first week of June, which happened to be the week that Catherine died, but I did not find out until July 1st. I was conflicted because the background was a recorded by Catherine’s first cousin David Marsh, a professional organist who arranges music for film and theater. Early in my relationship with Catherine, after attending a private concert David presented for family, I asked David to create a background for La Vie En Rose. That was back during the romantic phase of our relationship, and the recording was meant to be a proposal song. After I heard Catherine died, I decided to finish the music video as a tribute to her.
The odd thing was, I had showed up to Catherine’s funeral to give tribute to her, but in the end, I discovered that she had already given tribute to me. Women who knew Catherine from BSF kept approaching me saying things like, “You must be the boyfriend.” At first, their tone concerned me, but then I realized it was being said with reverence. My trepidation about attending the service was due to uncertainty about how Catherine had remembered me and represented our relationship to friends and family. However, from what I heard at the funeral she had remembered me as a beneficial and valued relationship in her life. I am glad, because I wanted her to know that she was loved.