In Memory of Christine

2010 - Will Rogers Beach

Organic, expressive, bright, Spirited.  These are the words that are often used to describe Christine V. Le.  

I met Christine at a VSA general meeting, I was drawn to her energy and pulled in by her smile.  She joined because she was proud of her heritage.  She became an essential cabinet member and was nominated most spirited.  During Tet I remember how beautiful she looked in an Ao Dai.  She rocked that Ao Dai.

She had huge presence at the annual VSA culture show first dancing, then acting and finally playing a story telling clown in the show Monsoon - Gió Mùa. This was the perfect roll for her because Christine was a story teller.  I remember one time we were resting after a culture show and she fell asleep in my lap at Huan's house.  She murmured, "I love your inner thigh pillows."

Christine made her presence known in other communities - SASC, Dance and her Coop where she proudly displayed her recycled fashion.  Christine was expressive in these spaces and found her identity through culture, dance and poetry where she captivated everyone she performed for.

As we became closer, she would reach out to me, "DANCE WITH ME CHRIS!"  We took pictures together and in everyshot, she had her tongue, goofy.  If she wasn't goofy she would snuggle up against my body.  And anyone who has been touched my Christines can contest that her touch was electric.

I remember seeing her bald - shocked, "MY PARENTS ARE SO MAD, BUT I HAD TO DO IT!"  It became clear that her body and the world around it suffocated her spirit.  Her hair, her shoes, her clothes all had to be stripped away in order for her to feel like she can breathe in order to feel her surroundings.  Christine wanted to feel and experience everything.  Her hands callaused by touch, her feet rough from walkng bare foot.

After college, she accompanied me on a road trip down to LA.  She invited me into her home where she proudly excalimed, "do you want Buon Cuon!? my mom picked it up from the OC!"  On this road trip we talked about love, privilege and relationships.  Her mind was always on overdrive - digesting ideas and trying to understand the world.

We met up again - she carried a nalgene water bottle that looked like it had been run over, but she was very attached to it.  THough it served no practical use, it had become a part of her as it went along with her on every experience.   She showed me her binder full of ideas written on scraps of paper. a collection of her thoughts on colorful pieces of paper.  She wanted to open up a dance school. 

We went to the beach where she rolled around in the sand proclaiming that she can feel each grain on her skin.  "CHRIS! I LOVE THE SUN!"  She screamed.

I saw her in downtown LA.  She was in a car and screamed my name one last time with such enthusiasm and life.  Her voice echos in my mind.  

The last thing that she said to me was through a facebook message, through a poetic conversation

November 23, 2011

im ready for a performance chris

like

nasty everything packed

and fantastic

spastic

blast it

the lyrics

and movements

bloody secrets

please

i need it

sheeez

help me

pleaswe

when

can we be 

freeeee

so necessary

for meeee

to releease

these things

but maybe

it'll take some time

its always

its constant

marvelous

no stoppin it

pero

es muy necesario por

todos

to slowly

tu tu

gap nhau

trong

mot noi

"Tu tu gap nhau tron mot noi"

Which means - Eventually we will meet again in one place, in heaven.

I believe in heaven, Christine has found the freedom she was looking for.  This earth, this world could no longer contain her spirit that was meant to fly.

Dim Sum before her funeral - CAL VSA

Before entrance - suit is bursting at the seams

Tearing up during Eulogy

Amazing art piece

Highschool Tribute

Around her art

A couple of folks came up to me to tell me that my eulogy greatly captured how they felt about Christine.  This was important to me.  The speakers before me reflected on her high school life and I hoped that what I presented as her college life was a fair representation.  I prepared for my speech by light-heartedly pulling 5 pieces of tissue at the podium.  I was doing well until I teared up and delivered the rest of the speech with a strange frog in my throat.  Unlike my cousin Michelle's funeral in 2009 where I downed a beer before speaking, I was able to continue without experiencing painful heartburn and heartache.

Every time I think about Christine I murmur, "im mad at you."  Mad at her for not reaching out.  Mad at her for not properly saying good bye.  Mad at her for not responding to my text to her wishing her a happy birthday a year ago.  

I imagine myself intervening ... somehow... just being there at the right time to stop her from taking a route that she believed was the only way.  I've heard so many stories that end in, "...and thanks to so-and-so, I'm still here today."  And I wish I could step back in time to find her to make her understand that her life is worth living.  That many more people need to watch her dance, that she needs to create more art and experience everything this earth has to offer.  I'm mad at you Christine for not letting me show you and I'm mad at myself for not finding you in time.

We Will Reconnect

Roadtrip to start my new life

I didn't realize how easy it was to virtually reconnect.  I did a search for Christine on my iPhone and found the last text that I sent her on January 12, 2012.  It read "Happy Birthday."

I haven't connected with her for an entire year, but thanks to tech I was able to "catch up."

I went to Picasa and found all the images that I had of her from the beach, graduation and culture show.  In all of these pictures we are embracing with our bodies so close that people would assume that we were lovers.  There were a handful of candid pictures of her taken when I was amazed by how particularly gorgeous she was at that moment and stole a snapshot.   I went to my blog and re-read the entries about her where I was inspired by her spoken word, intrigued by her ideas on love and appreciative for her support when I started my new chapter in LA.

I went to her facebook page and selected "See Friendship."  I'm reminded of our 107 mutual friends, 9 pictures tagged together and all the random gushes of affection on each other's walls:

Through email I found 26 gchat sessions.  One read simply, "i love you" sent on April 4, 2009.

Through facebook messages the last thing she sent me on November 23, 2011 was a random poem about performance and freedom; her last line written in Vietnamese after an attempt at Spanish: "Từ từ gặp nhau trong một nơi"

In my poor Vietnamese I translated in pieces: Slowly... we will meet.. in one .. space?  Or We will connect in due time?

*EDIT*
My parents confirmed that this is a saying in Vietnamese that poetically means - Eventually we will meet in heaven.

I was asked to speak at her funeral on December 29, 2012.  I struggled with this idea since they were looking for a close friend from Berkeley.  It didn't feel right, I hadn't talked to her in over a year.  I only saw her a couple of times since graduating.  I felt like I was not the right person to eloquently talk about her at such an important event in front of everyone that was involved in her life in a more substantial way.  But as I tapped into old messages, pictures and posts I reconnected with the relationship that I had with her.  She touched me.  I initially decline because I had forgotten how much I loved her... and ideas began to pour in about what I would say about Christine as I accepted the honor of speaking during her funeral   

She was organic.   She owned a mangled water bottle that she took everywhere - it was dented and scarred and represented the struggles that she had gone through and because of that she became attached to it.   Her feet were always bare because she wanted to feel the earth beneath her.  She loved touch, sound, smells... she loved to feel everything and wanting to share the experience with others because it was so 'amazing.'  She was passionate about finding meaning.  She was always looking for something;  something she couldn't understand or define.  She was expressive though dance and poetry and wasn't afraid of making herself vulnerable.  She was a caring person, an inspiration and spirit that transcended beyond this world.

I've experienced enough death of loved ones to accept it as a reality of life.  Though it's now 4AM on Christmas and I can't stop thinking about her.  I tried to help her younger sister gather pictures realizing that there are 1000 posted on facebook... once again, tech.

I understand now that Christine was searching for freedom... which I believe she has found.