Remembering Chuck

March 8, 2012 marked one year without Chuck. To honor his memory we gathered with friends and family, shared some of his favorite food (Dee-Dee's buffalo chicken dip, calamari, chicken parm with salad and crusty bread), listened to the music he loved, and remembered.
Remembered his wit, his need to make sure that everyone was having a good time, had enough to eat and drink - drinks that never seemed to to diminish because he would always, always refill when you where not looking leading to many seemingly unexplainable hangovers. Real funny, Chuck.

Remembered his charisma, how he genuinely engaged people in conversation meant solely for them. Chuck didn't "do" small-talk but would quietly observe, making engaging him in small-talk all the more appealing.

Remembered his camaraderie. Chuck was surrounded by people he wanted to know more, as well as with those he could talk to without speaking. The latter were a select and cherished few. His death changed them all leaving a seemingly endless empty space, loneliness in a crowd of one, an eternity of unfinished sentences, and anger.

Remembered his laugh or lack thereof. Chuck was not a "laugh out loud" kind of guy, as a matter of fact it was a rare treat to catch him smiling. His sideways smile was reserved for T a knowing smile for Charlie and for or me, well, I usually got the silent laugh - one that shook his body but made no sound while his tightly closed eyes and broad smile made it clear that he found himself hilarious at my expense. However, I did always end up laughing with him because despite his pensive demeanor, he was very funny. The few pictures I have of Chuck smiling I will cherish.

Remembered his physical strength. Man he was strong.

Remembered his character. Chuck did not judge nor did he hold grudges. He taught the boys to be respectful and accepting of others and to have the courage to be steadfast when adversity tested their resolve.

Remembered his love of football and how this aided in his comeback from his initial battle with T-PLL.

Remembered his obsession with the gym and quest for abs. "This summer I will have my abs." Lol! I heard that for 12 years and can pretty much guarantee that he has them now! :)

Remembered his love of the sun, the beach, and being shirtless whenever possible.

Remembered his dancing skills...or not. Charlie refers to this as "doing the Chuck" and has his father's move down to the facial expression. Very funny to watch the two of them dual on the [kitchen] dance floor.

Remembered G&R, Poison, Journey, and the others on his playlist that echo who he was and bring him to life whenever I hear a favorite song.

Remembered his book club and the resulting blessings.

Remembered how he loved to play cards. 2009 was the Summer of poker. Chuck would play weekly despite my protesting and questioning the necessity of gambling bla, bla...I have learned so much about time wasted on senseless arguing that the "bla" speaks for itself.  2010 was the Summer of nose bleeds, fatigue, irritability, bruising, and what we thought was an injury induced large spleen. Nope. 2010 was the Summer of cancer, not just any cancer but T-PLL, "a rare and highly aggressive form of leukemia."  Talk about being dealt a shitty hand. By late Fall Chuck had spent many sleepless nights leading up to or proceeding treatments playing poker online with his best friend. These hours could have easily been filled with dread, fear, and a sense of loneliness only known by those fighting to live were instead spent creating strategies, bluffing, folding, losing and winning. Poker nights had taken on a new meaning - those late night games filled the void of uncertainty caused when cancer recreates relationships and redefines who you are in the eyes of others - in those hours he was transported back to the summer of 2009, when poker was a night out with friends and he was just one of the guys. I'm not sure if either knew how essential those 2:00 AM games were in terms of recovery but I do believe that both men needed to play - needed this time to just be who they were: best friends playing late night poker. Nothing more, nothing less.

So many more memories but none as important as remembering his love for his boys and how hard he fought to live for them. I can still see Chuck pushing his body to it's limit over and over again, willing the cancer to cease it's senseless attack. When they are older I will tell the boys what Chuck remembered in the end, how his memories of playing catch with them in the back yard became reality when meningitis robbed him of the here and now. Chuck remembered their laughter, felt the sun on his skin and the grass underfoot. Chuck was there with his boys and he was happy.

He remembered and so will they.