This weekend my friends are gathering to celebrate the life of Christopher Yasick. It breaks my heart that I’m not there to do the same, but I’m there in spirit and I know they’ll share a few hugs with each other on my behalf. But almost six months later and I think I’m ready to remember him here.
Chris Yasick was a rare type. He was amazing. Shy at first, but impossibly loyal. He was also one of the kindest human beings I ever met. And thoughtful. He had quirks that made you love him so much. He put his whole self into everything. He was stubborn and hard headed. He hated asking for anything, so much that once after breaking his foot, he walked to work the next day before finally caving in and going to the doctor. He’d get belligerent on gin and loose on rum, but was usually just happy to have a few beers and talk about LOST. He was the guy you always wanted to have around.
He was the type of person who was good at everything but never talked about it. In between an engineering degree, he picked up photography and got really, really good at it. He knew that experiences were more important than possessions and he traveled the world more than once with friends and family. He was well-respected in his industry even after such a short time and was already set to give lectures at conferences the way you imagine a person in business would as a kid. He was never too busy, too cool, too broke, or too anything to be there when you needed him.
After he lost his father in March, he made it a point to visit everyone down in Austin. We celebrated his birthday and embarrassed him over cookie cake. We saw the Alamo. We ate chicken and talked about old we were getting. He was one of my favorite people on the planet and the world was better with him in it.
Since he passed away in October, not a day has gone by that I haven’t thought of him at least once. He shows up in little ways and big ways. I feel like he’s looking out for us and I feel like he’s helped us look out more for each other, too. I like to imagine him and his dad hanging out, sailing around the ocean on an ornate pirate ship, taking pictures and talking about LOST. I bet they’ve even found the plane by now.
In college when we’d get together, when it came time to pay a bill, or buy drinks for a party, or meat for a BBQ, if it ever came out that Chris paid a little more, he wouldn’t ever accept a few more bucks to even it out. He’d respond the same way, every time. A shake of his hand and an “it all comes back around.” I’ve caught myself saying this recently over little gestures. Something you’ll never miss but can make someone’s day. Put a little kindness into the world, get a little kindness back. Live like Chris.
I miss you, friend. I miss you every single day.
Here’s to good friends living large in Texas.