Happy Turkey

Two weeks ago, a high school friend of mine died suddenly of a massive heart attack. He was 40 years old. Obviously, everyone was extremely shocked and saddened. I was completely blindsided. I’d talked to him hours before his death, a fact that both baffles me and makes me so grateful.

Christian, or Xtian, or X, was an amazing guy. He was born with a birth defect and you kind of had to notice it. His left hand had no fingers. It had “nubs” instead. And they were all different sizes – pretty useless, although Xtian found uses for his “special” hand. He loved to freak substitute teachers out by shoving it in his mouth so it looked like he had swallowed his arm. It was sick. We loved it. And since he’d had his “special” hand since birth, he’d adapted quite well and become a one-handed wonder. He could do pretty much anything any of us could do. We didn’t give his one-handed-ness much thought.

He was in show choir with me. (Yeah, we were gleeks!) We were often dance partners. I remember one dance move where we were supposed to grab hands and I sort of looked at him in panic, and without a hitch, he did it – he grabbed my hand with those nubs and swung me around! Not a word! Just whipped me around with all the confidence in the world! And I started laughing. He whispered, “The one-handed bandit, girl!” and twirled me around again. I loved dancing with him. He was a joy.

He HAD a joy. He was a gifted artist. And he had a way about him that made you want to spend time with him. He made you feel like you were the most important person in the world. You and he were kindred spirits, meant to be friends since you were specks in the sky. Little did we all know that he made us each feel this way until we all started talking at his memorial service. We were all his special friends, his kindred spirits. And he was each of ours.

Little buttons were passed out by Xtian’s sister at the memorial. “Happy Turkey” buttons. For those of us who knew the story, fresh tears and laughter started. For those who didn’t, we happily shared: Christian worked a few years ago at Starbucks in Atlanta as a manager. For some reason, when he went to look, there weren’t any Thanksgiving decorations at the store. He didn’t approve. So he quickly traced his “special” hand on a piece of paper and wrote “HAPPY.” underneath. He taped it on the front door. Thus was born, “HAPPY TURKEY” and every year, he would greet us for Thanksgiving. Now “HAPPY TURKEY” is a welcome to the Christian Zabriskie Memorial Fund.

I’ll miss Xtian forever, but his zest for life is a reminder that we are not guaranteed tomorrow. Remember to tell people you love them. I told X he was super smart that afternoon (after a zinger of a political debate regarding health care), but I don’t remember telling him that I loved him, even though I know he knew. Live your life to the fullest, despite all your limitations. And to use one of Xtain’s favorite quotes by Souza, “Happiness is the way. So treasure every moment you have, and remember that time waits for no one.”