On Life, Death, and Legacy

I have struggled to put into form my thoughts since the loss of Michael Cristiani. Michael was a good man who lived a rich life. I’ve spent hours trying to find a way to culminate what he gave me into a singular blogpost, but the medium just won’t do. I have lost a pillar, a friend, a mentor, and a relentless champion. Many others I know will say the same. I attended his funeral, sat for hours with his family, hearing their stories and sharing mine.

When people are good, kind, and compassionate, they let their actions speak for them. Much like ASL, much is said through movement, though quiet rhythms, and expressions. But, you have to be looking to get the message. Even a quick glance elsewhere risks losing so much in meaning.

We live in a world of boisterous noise, of car horns and shouts, of blinking, flashing lights, of action flicks that come with seizure warnings, and of competing noise from every direction. It’s easy to lose sight of things. And, perhaps that’s where I’ve struggled.

Michael came from a different era, a different time, and a different value set. He checked in, slowly, softly, and with gentle bits of ideas to share. He was an oddity amongst many of us analytical types because he truly got people. He knew what made people tick, what people needed, and who needed to meet who. In fact, it’s what we honor him for, because it stood out so much.

What sits with me, though, deeply and lingering is the idea maybe we as a community didn’t know him as much as we should’ve. But, maybe that’s true across the board for many of us, we blip by, the quick signals of connection, and then let the line go silent. We point to threads – all these miraculous lines – that show how we’re linked, but would they withstand a gentle tug? Would we even notice the ones that hang quietly and then fall?

It took Michael’s passing for his family to know what all he gave to this community. I struggle with that. Maybe it’s from too much time with the Deaf community where everyone knows everyone and stories like Michael’s are shared, celebrated, and known history. And, maybe that too is where I falter for words.

We will all die. Barbara Ehrenreich has a great book on this (Natural Causes) and, try as we might, there’s no getting around it. Sure, we can put our heads in the sand and pretend it won’t happen to us, but it only leaves so much unsaid. Michael knew where he stood with me. I celebrated him privately, though emails, through phone calls, and via Twitter DMs.

What perhaps sits and ferments is that we honored his legacy, but did we honor his life? And who else are we missing because they work quietly?