In Loving Memory

This is a story about a young man named Christopher Gater. Before I explain how I came to “know” Chris, let me first share some background information.

My family has a great tradition. Each Sunday of Memorial weekend, we go to Bloomington, Indiana for The Bond Family Reunion. We have a routine that we follow each year in accordance with this special day. We meet at my parents’ house early Sunday morning and drive to Bloomington, making several stops along the way to our destination. One of the stops we make is at a cemetery; a large, beautiful cemetery where my great-grandparents are buried. This cemetery is where my story begins.

On Memorial Weekend, in the year 1995, my brothers and I set off to explore the cemetery while our family members decorated the graves of my great-grandparents. We were walking the grounds, looking at the gravestones and discussing different ones we came across. We had been exploring for a while when I happened upon a gravestone that stopped me in my tracks.

I read the beautiful stone and studied the picture. It was that of a handsome young man named Christopher James Gater. He was born on November 10, 1972, and he passed away on September 12, 1992.

There was something different about this particular gravestone. Over the years, I had passed hundreds of graves in that very cemetery, yet for some reason, there was something unique about this one. It is difficult to explain, but I felt as though I had been led to stop at that very site. It was as though I had been drawn to it.  

As I stood there studying the stone and wondering why God had led me there, I began to wonder about Christopher. I wondered what he was like in life. I wondered what had happened to him. I wondered about his family. In that moment, I began to think about my own family and the pain Christopher’s family must have felt losing him at such a young age. As I stood there hurting for this family that I had never met, I felt led to pray for them. I stood before his grave and asked the Lord to bless his family and comfort them. 

After that beautiful spring day in 1995 when I found Christopher’s grave, each year thereafter, after visiting my grandparents’ graves, I would set across the cemetery to visit whom I began to refer to as “my friend Christopher.”  I later told my family about Chris. They each asked the question, “What was it about his grave that led you to stop there?” Each time that question was raised, my answer remained the same, “I have no idea.”

As I got older, and with each year that I visited Chris, I became more and more curious about him and wondered why I had felt led to his grave so many years ago. I decided to take down his information and do some research. I found nothing. The next year, I took a picture of his gravestone and attempted another search online.  Again, I found nothing.

Throughout the years, I would discuss with my family what it would be like to meet Chris’s family. What if I ran into them? Would I introduce myself? Would I talk to them? We discussed what I would say to them if I was ever afforded the opportunity. With each year, my desire to meet them grew stronger and stronger. However, each year, as I arrived at his grave, it always seemed as though I had just missed them, for there would be new flowers placed at the site.

The years passed and not much changed, except for the flowers on Chris’s grave. On Memorial Weekend, in the year 2011, things proved to be no different. As I approached Chris’s grave, my mother said, “It looks like you missed them again.” Once again, new flowers were at the site, along with a plaque that I had never seen before. As I stood there looking at that familiar picture, I wondered if I would ever have the opportunity to meet his family. After visiting Chris and praying for his family, it was time to leave.  

Just as we were walking away, I noticed a car pull into the area where Chris was laid to rest. Due to the fact that there were hundreds of other graves around, I pushed off the idea that it could be his family. As I walked toward the other end of the cemetery, back to where my grandparents are buried, I once again noticed the car. I watched the car as it got closer and closer to Chris’s grave. I continued to stare as I walked toward my family.

I watched as a young woman and a little girl got out of the car. Before I could leave, I had to make sure it was not the family I had been waiting years to meet, so I began walking back toward the site. As the distance between the strangers and myself began to close, I started getting nervous.  

At that time, another car pulled in. A man, a woman, and three small children got out of the car and joined the other woman and little girl. I continued to watch intently until I saw one of the children go up to Chris’s grave and touch the plaque that was new to it this year. After arguing with the idea of introducing myself and trying to catch up with my mind as it raced, I decided that I had been waiting 16 years to meet this family, I had to find out if it was them. With that, I nervously walked toward them.

I approached the small group of people with my hands shaking and my heart pounding, and I said, “I am sorry to bother you, but are you Christopher’s family?” They all turned to look at me. A dark haired woman stepped forward and introduced herself as Christopher’s mother. Sherry. Of course! Her name was on the back of Chris’s gravestone. I was so nervous my voice was shaking, but I introduced myself and began to explain the story of how I had happened upon Chris’s grave, and how I had felt drawn to it so many years ago. As I looked into their faces and shared my story with them, I started to wonder if I sounded crazy. I looked back at Chris’s grave and said, “I know this sounds so strange, but for whatever reason, I felt led to your son’s grave and I have stood in this exact spot for many years and prayed for each of you while visiting Chris.”

The blonde woman who had first arrived at the site said, “No, it doesn’t sound strange at all,” and she began crying. Sherry, Chris’s mother, asked if she could hug me. As I hugged her, I could feel in that hug just how much she loved and missed her son.  As she hugged me, she told me how much I had blessed their lives that day. Little did she know, they were the ones who had blessed mine.

She then told me about Chris and how he had died. He was in a car accident coming home from college when he was 19 years old. In an e-mail I later received from Sherry, she explained, “Chris was driving home to Solsberry from Indiana State University in Terre Haute on a sunny Saturday morning, September 12, 1992, when he fell asleep, hit a tree and joined the ranks of the angels.”

As we stood before Chris’s grave talking about his life, I couldn’t believe I was finally meeting the family I had prayed over for the last 16 years. The man, whom I found out was Christopher’s step-father, had not said much while Sherry and I spoke, but at that moment he said, “Isn’t it amazing that God would bring us all together on this day?” It was amazing. Incredibly amazing. The timing of it all had been perfect. It was then that I realized that every little detail of that day had led to Chris’s family and me finally meeting.  

We stood for a while longer talking about Chris, his family and his gravestone. His mother had said something along the lines of, “It is strange that you said you had felt drawn to his grave because in life, people were drawn to him. He was so kind and had a passion for life." As I listened to her talk about her son with love and adoration, I found myself feeling very sad, for I never got the chance to meet him myself.

Sherry and I exchanged phone numbers and agreed to e-mail one another. I hugged Sherry once more before leaving. As we pulled out of the cemetery, I immediately opened my phone and began orchestrating a text to Sherry. I think it took me thirty minutes to write just a few lines. The text simply said, “Hi Sherry. This is Lindsey Pounds. I am so happy that I finally got to meet you all today. It was such a blessing. You all, along with Christopher, have truly touched my life. I look forward to hearing from you and would love to know more about Christopher. I will be praying for you all, as I do this day each year.” I anxiously awaited a response. Shortly after sending her the text I received one back saying, “Dear Lindsey, I can’t tell you how much meeting you today meant to me and all of us. The first chance I get I will write you and send pictures of Chris. God bless you!” 

About a week after I met Chris’s family on that beautiful Sunday afternoon, I received my first e-mail from Sherry. She told me about herself and her family, and she told me more about Chris. She told me that Chris was her oldest son and her best friend. She told me that he used to always sing in the shower, so she was sure he was singing in the Heavenly Choir. In that first e-mail she said, “Chris was precious! Everyone loved him! You could always depend on Chris. I smile when I think of him trying to show me how to do a lay-up without traveling. His eyes twinkled when he laughed.” This small excerpt from her first e-mail brought a smile to my face and tears to my eyes. What a beautiful image that brings to mind.  Along with that first e-mail she shared many pictures of Chris. She also shared with me a story she had written that had been published in “Angels on Earth,” a Guideposts magazine.

I looked through the pictures, read the story, and quickly e-mailed her back. Sherry and I became fast friends. We keep in touch to this day. I have learned much more about Chris and Sherry. Sherry is such a special person and I know that it is her heart’s desire to glorify God in all that she does. Her strength and optimism inspire and encourage me each day. Sherry said something to me in an e-mail that I will not soon forget. She said, “Every time I open my e-mail I look for something from you….somehow you bring Chris back to me.”

I feel incredibly blessed to have met Sherry and her family. Getting to meet Chris’s family has made a huge impact on my life. The story of Chris is a wonderful reminder that God is always working in our lives, even when we are unaware. There aren’t many days that go by that I do not think about Chris and his family and the wonderful ways in which our Lord works. I am no longer able to pass a cross on the side of the road without praying for the family members of the loved ones represented by each cross. In times of difficulty, it is comforting to know that there may be complete strangers, people you have never met and may never meet, who are lifting you up in prayer.  

I have shared this story with many family members, friends, co-workers and students. The story of Chris has led to many great conversations. The response has been astounding. I cannot begin to count the number of people I have shared this story with and the number of people that have been touched by it. It was no accident that I happened upon Christopher’s grave so many years ago, and it was no accident that I was finally able to meet his family 16 years later. It was all a part of God’s perfect plan.

I e-mailed Sherry and shared with her some of the responses I had received from those who have heard what we call “our story.” I told her that she and Chris continue to touch the lives of others, and that I feel blessed to have met her and to have found Chris’s grave years ago. In an e-mail I received in response to my own, Sherry stated, “Thank you so much for sharing this, I can’t tell you what it means to me that you are sharing Chris with others and that his life and death are touching so many lives. When Chris first died and several of his friends seemed to grow closer to God through it, that helped me during those really dark days, and now to find out that he has been touching lives all along and helping others to find peace and a walk with Christ through you sharing him, that touches my heart and blesses my soul more than mere words can express. All I can say is what an awesome God we serve!”  

In another e-mail I received from Sherry she said, “Chris is not gone, for he lives on and is still touching lives even today. It is amazing how Chris has brought us together. I know he is smiling in Heaven.” Chris and his mother are dear to my heart, and as long as I am living, I will be sharing the story of Chris with those I meet. Sherry is right; Christopher is not gone. Not only does Chris live on in the lives of those who knew and loved him, but he also lives on in the lives of complete strangers.   

As strange as it sounds, I feel as though I know Chris, even more so now that I have met his family and learned more about him. What a great day it will be when I can one day meet my Heavenly Father, have the most amazing family reunion with family that has gone before me, and finally get the chance to meet my dear friend, Christopher James Gater.