“Today” Was The Best Day Of His Life
Heartbreakingly beautiful lessons I learned about Brotherhood, presence, and love through tragic loss
“Well, this should be something,” I thought to myself on the plane. I was heading to Austin, TX with my somewhat-new-ten-years-younger boyfriend to stay in a house with a group of very-new-to-me-people, including AJ’s 6 closest fraternity brothers. Their group has a long distance friendship, and we were all meeting up for their annual “Peansgiving” (a take on Friendsgiving using their friend Mike’s nickname). Each year in college, they’d return to the University of Delaware after Thanksgiving with leftovers in tow. They started a tradition of making their own feast out of leftovers (followed by a party, of course). When thinking about being added to this tradition this past December, I remember worrying that I’d feel old and out of place. I mean, I write about my feelings for fun, so what could I possibly have in common with a group of 25 year old guys?
Turns out, my hangover after one too many ranch waters was the only thing that made me feel older. And I didn’t feel out of place- at all. I felt instantly welcomed, comfortable, and really really happy. Throughout the weekend, I learned a couple new drinking games. I also learned that while Brotherhood does mean partying and turning literally anything into a game; for this group, it’s not just that. To them, Brotherhood means letting each other be exactly who they are (and only giving each other a hard time for it some of the time). It means asking “you good?” and being there to hear the real answer. It also means actually sharing the real answer. It means that differences can exist without division. It means genuinely taking the time to get to know a new girlfriend and cheering for her when she did well in the new drinking game they patiently taught her because they don’t give a damn that her college years were far before theirs. It means demonstrating their care for each other through words and actions because vulnerability is a part of masculinity. It means unbridled joy and a ridiculous amount of laughter. The only word strong enough to describe the level of friendship that I witnessed is Love.
While my initial observation of most of the guys in this group was that they all had dynamic and bold personalities in their own ways, my impression of Chris “Chiz” Chizauskie was a little different. He was more reserved, more even keeled, quieter. One night, he and I talked for a little while just the two of us. The description “a man of few words” has been thrown around to describe Chiz, so I was honored when he said, “I can just tell that you’re a sweetheart, MK.” He took the time to tell me how happy it made him to see Dunney so happy. It might not surprise you that I’m a Words of Affirmation person, so I deeply appreciated Chiz’s “few words” during our heart to heart. On the plane ride home from Austin, I told AJ that Chiz was my #1 (sorry, boys, I promise the rest of you were tied for second).
Late on the night of May 23rd, I missed a call from AJ and I texted him to tell him I’d call him back. “Something terrible has happened,” he replied. I immediately called him and through a tear filled shaky voice, he told me that Chiz had died in an accident at work. Witnessing someone I love deeply feel the heart shattering loss of someone he loves deeply has been a kind of sadness I haven’t felt before. It brought me so much comfort when AJ and his brothers met together in Philadelphia later in the week to spend time with the Chizauskie family and with each other. They are carrying each other through this grief with the fierce loyalty and care they’ve always shown each other.
Chris’ family chose to honor their son and brother by hosting a beautiful Celebration of Life at The Springhaven Club in Wallingford, PA where family and friends shared memories and stories. I only met Chris that one weekend in Austin, so it was through these memories and stories that I got to know Chris a little bit better. Brock Bohn, one of the guys in the Austin crew, shared a story of the birthday party that his sisters threw for him. He explained that his sister asked everyone at the party, “What was the best day of your life?” (my kind of party game right there- I see you, Bohn sisters). People told stories of once in a lifetime travel experiences and monumental events in their lives. When it was Chris’ turn, he said, “Today.”
When asked what was so amazing about today, Chris responded, “it was the same as any other day, every day is amazing.”
One of the most tragically stunning ironies about death is that through it; we learn about life. I learned that “Today” was the best day of Chris’ life because to him, being alive meant being present. Being alive meant making a career by combining his passion for golf and his creative talent. Being alive meant laying down with his dog while talking to his mom about his day. Being alive meant golfing with his dad. Being alive meant happily joining his sister and her fiancé on their dates. Being alive meant inviting the taxi driver in NYC to hang out with he and his boy Dunney. Being alive meant saying “yes” to adventure and “nah” when something wasn’t his jam. Being alive meant making cool look effortless without actually caring about looking cool at all. To Chris, being alive meant being present.
Through stories and memories shared of Chris, I was reminded that present is a state of being in which many of us struggle to live, yet it is the only state of being where life is happening.
I was honored to meet the Chizauskie family, and humbled to bear witness to the palpable pure love that filled room at Chris’ Celebration of Life. It is very clear that Chris will forever be True North for his family and friends, for his brothers and for everyone else who loved him. Those of us who didn’t know him well or even at all can still honor him by practicing more presence. For Chris, presence came naturally. For many of us, it is something we have to work for. We’ve heard the following many times in many different ways, but it’s one of the truest truths there is. We spend so much of of our present ruminating about the past and worrying about the fantasy that is the future. But why do we do that when the present is all we have? Let’s promise each to practice more presence.
Every “today” of Christopher Casimir Chizauskie’s 26 years was the best day of his life. Life is fragile. It is impermanent. May we use life’s fragility and impermanence as tools to make every “today” the best day of our lives.
Rest in the sweetest Peace, Chiz. For the record, I think you were a sweetheart too.
Thank you to everyone who helped me get to know Chris better through your stories and conversations. May you find pockets of comfort and lean on your people as you grieve this immense loss. Sending you love as you continue to remember and honor his life by living yours with passion and presence.
From Chris’ obituary:
Contributions in Christopher’s memory be made to the J. Wood Platt Scholarship, 1974 Sproul Rd., Suite 400, Broomall, PA 19008 https://plattscholar.org/donate/
