A Story of Best Friends

Craig and Kris started dating in 1983. He lived in Colorado and loved to ski. She traveled to be with him, and they would spend their days in the mountains, looking down on miles and miles of Quaking Aspens. When the wind would blow, the leaves would reveal their brilliant gold underside. Quaking Aspens are a unique species: connected at the root, the trees are actually one organism with many trunks. The oldest living Aspen is thought to be 80,000 years old. It was clear a Quaking Aspen was “their type of tree.”

They shared their love with their dogs, beloved members of the family. Over the years they adopted seven furry best friends.

When Craig was diagnosed with cancer, he never complained. Not once. Kris shared “I have never seen a person with so much courage in my life.”

“We weren’t just husband and wife, we were best friends.” – Kris, Flagstaff Memorial Forest, Arizona

Love Beyond: Craig’s Memorial

Craig’s Forest Memorial was on a beautiful day, the forest alive with color. There were evergreen trees, blue skies, and puffy white clouds.

Craig and Kris loved to write music together. After their beloved dog Chames became sick, Craig remarked “What are we doing? He’s sitting there waiting for us to give him a hug or a treat, and we’re so worried about him that we aren’t living in the moment with him.” This inspired Craig to write a song.

They played Craig’s song “Living in the Moment” and read the poem “Immortality.” When it was time to spread the ashes, Kris chose to spread the ash and soil mixture with her hands, so there was no metal between her and Craig. 

Instead of printing Craig’s death date on the programs, Kris chose his birthday with a dash followed by the word “immortality,” because his spirit can neither be created nor destroyed. Kris reflected after his Forest Memorial “I may have some outbursts because I miss you, but I’m not grieving because you’re in a great place.”

“It was just exactly what I imagined and more.” – Kris, Flagstaff Memorial Forest, Arizona

Immortality

By Clare Harner

Do not stand
By my grave, and weep,
I am not there,
I do not sleep–
I am the thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints in snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain,
I am the gentle, autumn rain.
As you awake with morning’s hush,
I am the swift, up-flinging rush
Of quiet birds in circling flight.
I am the day transcending night.
Do not stand
By my grave, and cry–
I am not there,
I did not die.