Loving, kind, respectful, loved nature
To know Chris was to love him. He had bright blue eyes, a mischievous grin, and a way of hugging that made you feel cared for. He loved openly and fully. If you were important to him, you never had to wonder. He was protective of his daughter, his younger brother, and his parents, Randy and Denise, believing they deserved only the best. Despite the struggles he faced, his love for them never wavered. At heart, he remained a mama’s boy.
Chris was social, generous, and quick to help. If someone needed a ride, he offered them the passenger seat of his cherished Z71 Chevy, his dream car. He kept up with technology and enjoyed sharing what he learned. He could be playful and comical, often making others laugh.
Skilled with his hands, Chris worked laying flooring and doing tilework. He took pride in his craft. Outside of work, he loved to bowl and swim. Chris also found peace in nature, whether that be on snowcapped mountains, watching sunsets at the beach, or simply enjoying the flowers in his yard. He loved to take photos of what he saw so others could appreciate it too. Holidays with family and friends and trips to the beach were among his favorite times. His other joy was tattoos. For Chris, a day at the tattoo parlor was a day well spent.
Serving as a unified partner in Special Olympics Bowling, Chris was passionate in his work with individuals with disabilities. His brother, Brandon, had cerebral palsy, and Chris was particularly good with him. Caring for others came effortlessly to Chris. He also tended to his cherished dogs, BJ, the mutt he grew up with, and Noel, his labradoodle.
Chris shared a sweet bond with his daughter, Ansley. She was dedicated to her father and tried to help him get better from his addiction. He loved having his picture taken with her. He spent much of his time with his best friend, Paul. The two traveled to Colorado together and enjoyed hours sitting around the fire pit.
Addiction changed Chris at times. He would withdraw and isolate, closing himself in his room. His family was constantly worried about whether he would make it home safely. He lived with substance use disorder for 25 years, with a period of five years in sobriety, an accomplishment remembered with pride. His mother recalls visiting him while he was in treatment, going out to eat, shopping, and spending hopeful time together. Unfortunately, he was not able to maintain his sobriety.
Since Chris’ passing, his absence is profound. The house is quieter. The door no longer opens the way it once did, with Chris coming and going. “He is missed deeply,” his mother stated, “everything about him, except the addiction.”
Chris’s mother, Denise McClure, provided the information for this narrative.
June 28, 1982–June 12, 2025–Age 42
Portrait Artist: Clayton Conner
Narrative Writer: Barbara Francois
