Chistopher was not an extraordinary boy, but he had extraordinary qualities. He didn't stand out in a crowd. In fact he shied away from such things. But if you got to know him, and some of you here today knew the real Chris, you couldn't help but feel the specialness of his presence. His deep, penetrating blue eyes only added to this.

When Chris was about 6 or 7 years old, he played in a local youth soccer league. I remember in one game, the kids were chasing the ball from one end of the field to the other. His focus wasn't the ball, but something he found partly buried in the soccer pitch. He completely ignored the game and found a way to unearth this treasure. The game carried on around him. When he succeeded, he came over to the sidelines to show us a rusty Matchbox car. He was as happy with this as if he had scored the winning goal in the final match.

It was always the small things in life that satisfied Chris. He called himself a 'minimalist' and he truly was. In high school, he was asked to write about the girl of his dreams. A quote from his paper said "She couldn't be someone who needs all the flashy things in life, because I could be happy living in a wet box on the side of the road". He almost did that.

Knowing he couldn't legally work in the US, until we had our Green Cards, Chris found out about an opportunity to work on an Alpaca farm, just outside of Whistler Mountain in British Columbia. His plan was to go up there for the summer. The place he found to live was a one-room hut that had a small space for a bed in the attic, which you had to climb a ladder to get to. To the rest of the world, this was a 450 square foot box. To Chris, this was a castle and he was as content as could be. He stayed there for over a year, before finally returning to the US to work at another farm - this time with llamas - in Boulder, CO.

Chris always had a soft spot in his heart for animals. As we searched through old photo albums, looking for the right ones to include in the video you saw today, we found so many with him holding a stray cat or dog or sitting on a horse or carrying a lizard or salamander he had scooped from a pond. For many, the greatest attachment is a boy and his dog. For Chris, his first true love was Posie, a possum we rescued while living in Lake Forest, CA. Posie traveled everywhere with him, slept in his room, and loved lying on his chest, while he watched TV or read. His second true love was an Alapaca, named Havasu. He bought Havasu when he was working in Boulder and spent many, many hours training him to be the perfect gentleman. Chris could get Havasu to climb in the back of his Ford Taurus and ride quietly to the local nursing homes, where Chris would bring him from room-to-room, dressed in funny hats. The joy this brought to the residents was only a fraction of the joy that Chris took in being able to show off his best friend.

Chris returned to California to finish up college. Looking back, I believe that desire was born from what he thought the world wanted from him and not from what he believed was important to his life. He tried working in the business world, but found disappointment, when he learned that integrity and business don't always go hand in hand. For Chris, integrity and loyalty were 'must haves'. This is probably what led him to join the military.

He enlisted in the Navy in July 2003. This scared his mother half to death and, while I was very proud of him, it made me nervous as well. It seems like only yesterday that our family attended the graduation ceremony from boot camp. Chris flourished in a system that got so many others lost. He loved the discipline and the opportunities the Navy presented. He set a record for completing the most courses in one year - over 100. If the living accommodations in the Navy appear less than satisfactory to the rest of us, it was perfect for the boy who could live in the 'wet box'. We'll never know how the two tours in Iraq affected him. Like most of those who have seen war, he told us stories he thought we could live with and kept others to himself. I do remember the compassion he had for others though. When I asked him what the food was like, he told me that every meal had to be brought in by truck to Balad Air Force Base, where he was stationed, about 40 miles north of Baghdad. The convoys that brought these meals in were constant targets for attack. I'll never forget it when he said "Dad, there was always a strong possibility someone got killed bringing that food to us. I was very grateful for and enjoyed everything they served."

Chris loved to express himself through his photography. He won his first award in Junior High, with an entry at the Orange County Fair. We were so proud of him. He built his own dark room in the garage and spent hours in there, developing pictures he had taken. In the past 3-4 years, he learned how to dismantle a digital camera and convert it for infrared photography. The result was some very strange, yet beautiful and unique pictures. He had a plan to send out several of these cameras to friends, who in turn would pass them along to others he didn't even know. He wanted to gather infrared pictures from all over the world and put them in a book one day.

Perhaps Chris will be best remembered for his sense of humor. He was so quick witted and found many ways to express this. Considering how quiet he was around most people, he never failed to have a comment that would break up the room. While always tasteful, he often found the humor in a sad situation and could brighten up an otherwise somber mood. Our dining room table was a gathering spot for friends and visiting relatives to play board games and there were many nights when the laughing went on into the wee hours. My sister told me the other day that it was expected that she and/or one of her girls would laugh so hard that one of them would pee their pants every time Chris went to visit them.

Chris will forever be in the hearts of so many who loved him. His passing is so tragic in many ways, but we are grateful to know that he is at peace and is being welcomed by others who went before him. Posie and Havasu were certainly there to greet him, but also grandmas and grandpas - some who never got to meet him in our world. They now get to enjoy his humor, his compassion and his love.

  -- David Carabine

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It has become immensely clear to me that words cannot adequately or sufficiently describe the meaning and value of Chris's short life. However, I have a compelling need to tell you of the things you already know about Chris. From my perspective as his sister, I can say that I am so very proud of Chris; not because he studied and worked hard and attained great awards while serving in the navy and in life, But how Chris found his own direction and accomplished so many meaningful things in his short life. He left behind so many memories with us all to exemplify all the fine qualities of selflessness, hard-working attitudes and an amazing sense of humor.

I like to think that maybe God took him because he already touched more hearts than most of us can touch in a full lifetime. In only 29 years he has touched the hearts of all here and many who could not be here. Our hearts are so sad now because Chris had made them so glad. Chris made us smile and Chris made us laugh. His friends and family will all attest to that!

The memory of Chris will now become a difficult mixture of sadness and joy. God only knows how much this hurts each one of us and how good Chris was for us all.

Although Chris's death was sudden and came as a shock to all of us, I know in my heart he would not want for us to spend forever grieving. Rather, Chris would want us all to remember our favorite moments we spent with him. So, if you would all just take a quick minute or two to think about a happy time-shared with him?

Eventually, we will recover from the shock of losing Chris, but his memory will live on and we will all be with him again in Heaven. Chris will forever be in my thoughts and prayers.

  -- Jennifer Monsen