This was how we got from 21 year olds in Alfred to our amazingly blessed life in Westerly. Whether I mentioned an idea or a hair-brained scheme, Christian never hesitated and always worked tirelessly to make each dream come true. This worked with varying degrees of success. In the early days, we did, after all, spend a little time living in a barn. After the security deposits and rent was payed on what I thought would be a perfect art studio/workspace, we had $112 with which Christian built a box in the attic from 1X2 lumber and silver foam sheets of insulation... add space heater, a mattress on the floor, and an all white puppy and we were home.

You can see the danger in this kind of devotion, I’m sure. Thank God, the bank denied our loan on the 41ft catamaran sailboat we were going to live on - even though neither of us could sail! Christian got better at knowing whether my schemes were those fed by logic and need (these never worked) or if they were a part of our true path. I believe he began to feel too as if we were being pulled by a current where we needed to go.

After the barn debacle, in the spring of 1999, I needed to go back home and Christian came again with no questions asked, but the one - if I would marry him. We loved our years in the condo on the Pawcatuck River so much that when we were at the closing selling the condo and buying our dream home, tears welled up in Christian’s eyes to leave it.

Perhaps you knew him in those years he spent ferrying to Fishers Island every day where he learned to become a masterful gardener. Anything Christian gave his attention to thrived. Or maybe you knew him in his years as a student, a mailman, a gallery director, bronze sculptor, steel fabricator, or fiberglass magician, or as an inventor applying for patents on amazing kayak designs. At his most recent job as a designer for GenMet in Wisconsin, he strived to bring his creative heart to manufacturing. In this position, he was so lucky to be able to design from home and be with his girls morning and night.

Christian was a true artist; in that, whatever he did the point was always the process not the product. He could do anything. He had so many skills and if he didn’t know how; he mastered it through commitment and study and plain old trial and error. He never gave up. Last spring, it was the night before May’s 3rd birthday party and we were up late trying to grant her every wish as she had a new sister now and needed a day to be the star of the show. I was up late baking and frosting a requested butterfly cake and Christian was in the other room, with Clara sleeping, trying to learn how to make butterflies out of those long balloons from a tutorial on the internet. I was a bit delirious but I kept laughing because every few minutes you would hear - Pop - baby crying - swear word. Instead of giving up he decided to go outside and tried again in the dark. After a long while he finally came back in; beside himself and said, “It can’t be done.” And I said, “In all the years I’ve known you, you have never said something can’t be done and if you can not do it - than truly - It Can’t Be Done - go to sleep.”

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