One thousand weeks: Remembering Chris Henry

Get the Point!

In his 2021 book Four Thousand Weeks: Time Management for Mortals, award winning British journalist Oliver Burkeman very poignantly notes: “The average human lifespan is absurdly, terrifyingly, insultingly short.” 

Absurd, terrifying, and “insultingly short,” indeed…

At 52 years old, I have now lived a little over 2,700 weeks; if I am fortunate to see 70, the "three score and ten years" that I've heard Christian pastors preach from the Gospel my entire life, I will have lived a total of 3,640 weeks. In the grand scheme of things, when considering that scientists estimate that the Earth and the rest of the known galaxies were formed many billions of years ago, human life truly is "but a vapor, that appears for a little time, and then vanishes away" as written less than two thousand years ago in the New Testament Book of James. 

On this note, of the many topics that I pin to my personal Facebook page each week, I often post about the deaths of kin, friends, and celebrities in real time. I do so as a form of coping with my own grief, and to honor the memories of those whose life forces may have vanished, but whose impact will remain in the lives of those who loved, followed, or appreciated their Earthly presences. 

If you have read my words with any regularity in the past, then you already know that each October, I pay respects to the life and memory of Christopher Henry, one of my very best friends while growing up in Tallahassee, Florida. 

Hobbs and Henry, FAMU High School snare drummers, circa ‘86

When I apply Burkeman's four thousand week model to Chris Henry’s life, I am reminded that he died two months shy of his 20th birthday, or slightly over 1000 weeks! 

Chris Henry, senior photo, circa ‘90

And while Chris’s death has impacted me in more ways than I can recount on this second Sunday in October, as I grow older and hopefully wiser, I choose to focus less on the melancholy that tragic event wrought within my and our mutual friends' lives back in ‘92, but to remember that our friend lived each day to the fullest during the time that Providence allotted. To use a sports cliche, he "left it all on the field" as far as his academic acumen, musical genius, and the indelible impact that he made upon everyone who was graced to know him on any level. 

While I surely would have LOVED to peep all that he may have accomplished in computer science or via his music, I REALLY would have loved to have seen him interact with his son, Chris II, who was born seven months after his death. While I and others have shared our memories of his father through the years, the best testament to who his father was is staring “Little” Chris right in the mirror, as genetics being genetics, the son truly reflects the father in looks, intelligence, and demeanor!

Christopher Henry II and Christopher Henry III

And while I often joke that my own tear ducts are usually as dry as the Sahara Desert, I admit that I got a little misty eyed yesterday when Chris II's mother, Lakeisha Lewis, sent me pictures of Chris II and his infant son, Christopher III, celebrating the life of my old best friend at his grave in Tallahassee's Southside Cemetery!

The photos above reinforce my personal belief that Chris Henry is not just an "angel on my shoulder," but that the essence of his spirit maintains a very active presence within his descendants, too! 

Which leads me back to the point of Burkeman's book, which is that it's important to focus less on the fact that our days are numbered, and to focus more on enjoying the gift that each day presents!

The day after Hurricane Milton devastated Florida's western coast, the sun set majestically over the same Gulf Coast…

Yes, I know that it is painfully hard at times to focus on the good when we face so many challenges in our personal lives—all the while viewing the vicissitudes of life throughout the world writ large.

But as my once jet black beard turns increasingly white, I choose to focus less on my personal inadequacies and insecurities, while focusing more on the people, places, and things that have brought me joy in the past—and continue to bring joy in the present. By so doing, hopefully I am showing God my gratitude for the 2,700 weeks I've been given, while praying that whether I have another week—or another 2,700 weeks—that I continue to not only marvel at the physical and metaphysical beauty that surrounds me in this realm, but to live in a way that when I transition to the next realm, that I will leave a lasting impression upon those family, friends, and followers who mean so much to me!

Continue to rest in peace, Bro. Chris Henry!