The uninvited guest

Yesterday, it was brought home to me quite forcefully that, no matter how inured we are as aficionados of the horrific in literature and cinema, when death steals unexpectedly into our real lives we are still shocked and moved. That clash between the fictive and the real is nothing short of seismic, a genuine soulquake that leaves us bewildered and dumbfounded, not to say wondering. More to the point, it illustrates just how tenuous life really is, and also that we all have that line beyond which it all seems to have no meaning.

I lost a very good online friend on Wednesday night, Chris ‘Choppie’ Votaw, a man who was very much on the same kind of wavelength as me. Both of us believed in the freedom of the individual to decide for themselves what they stood for, what beliefs they held and how to express themselves, whilst also acknowledging that tolerance of the views of others is of paramount importance. That we should lead by example, and show others the way forward. Although he was an atheist, he possessed a deep understanding of religion and belief, and how it sometimes blinds us to the truth of the world around us. And when I say deep understanding, I mean he studied it properly – not merely scooting the web and picking bits up here and there; no, he studied for a degree in theology. I would say that he grappled with the basic questions that belief asks, but he also struggled with what religion can make people do. He sought to go beyond mere pat answers – he wanted to get to the very heart of the matter, to witness for himself the pulse that quickens the very philosophies on which they were built.

We met on an online forum, now defunct, many years ago. His breadth of knowledge and erudition were obvious from the very start, and he dispensed wisdom without appearing to do so for his own glory or standing. By his very words he encouraged us to think and to question, even ourselves and our long-standing beliefs. And he always did this with a twinkle in his eye, a ready smile and a humorous remark that would invariably leave you crying with laughter.

More important than all this, however, was that he was a good husband, father, brother and friend. He had time for anyone and everyone, and would listen. He was open, but forthright when needed. He was generous, beyond even the bounds of the definition of the word. When Liz and I got married, he sent over, at his own expense, some wedding presents (some bottles of absinthe and Goldschlager) – and this was at a time when we still didn’t know him that well. This was the measure of the man. He didn’t care that we had never met him – he just knew what kind of people we were and he was showing us his pleasure at having met us. That was a gesture that neither of us have forgotten, and indeed are very unlikely to forget, ever.

This is but a short eulogy – and I am not even sure that I possess the proper words to express my deep respect for this man. I have only touched upon but a miniscule fraction of what the man known as Choppie represented. Words are never enough – it is what I and all the people and friends he ever touched carry in their hearts that matters. There, we know, and we feel, what he meant to us. And, ultimately, what he meant is inexpressible.

My heart goes out to his wife Sarah and his children – I sincerely hope you all gain the strength needed in the coming days from all the love of his many friends. My heart also goes out to the rest of his family. Most of all, my heart goes out to the man himself – may you find peace on your onward journey, whatever Valhalla it is you’ re going to, and, like I have said elsewhere, I still owe you more than a few drinks – and I will always keep my promises on that one.

See you on the other side, Chris!!