Remembering Brother Chuck

Charles Koh (April 29, 1965 – July 5, 2009)

I went to a funeral today, though it felt more like a curious cross between a soap opera and a circus.  Yea.  It was odd.  And wrong.

Between the unnecessary Spanish translation of the service and the superfluous parade of “wedding” pictures, I think it’d be safe to say that even Chuck wouldn’t have enjoyed his own funeral.  So here’s my personal memorial to my friend, Charles:

I remember “Brother Chuck” for his quirky personality, a personality that warranted endless imitations (all performed with love) that elicited laughter from those watching, those performing, and always, Chuck himself.

I remember him as a humble and grateful man.  Sometimes I’d cash checks for him whenever he didn’t have his wallet or ATM card.  He never failed to catch me off guard how he always acted like it was such a huge favor he was asking of me; as if I were granting him a much larger wish.  “Thank you SO MUCH, Candy!” he’d say repeatedly, with sincerity and gratitude in his eyes.  His eyes weren’t the greatest (as his eyesight was pretty much shot), but that didn’t stop them from expressing emotion.

I remember him for his undeniable intelligence and the guidance he offered others.  I also remember his struggles, and the numerous times he fought his way back to fit into what society considers normal.

I remember going with my bf once to visit Charles while he was in the hospital.  I wasn’t sure how he’d react to my being there as he was dealing with some deeply personal stuff.  But I followed my bf’s lead and greeted him with a smile and hug.  Although I probably wasn’t the first person on his list of desired visitors, it was clear that he appreciated the support and company.  I remember he expressed to us that he wasn’t sure he’d make it through, but we assured him he would.  And he did.  I remember Charles as a tough ass.

I remember visiting him another time in the hospital, except this time it was on a lighter note.  We brought pizza and candy to Chuck and some of the other patients.  All the other patients were loud, talkative, and very much into themselves, but not Charlie.  He was glad to see us, but very strictly business: he wanted to know what kinds of pizza and candy we brought.  It didn’t take a lot to make Charles happy.  Some days it was the other half of my $5 footlong.  Others, it was just an extra bowl of rice.

May you find peace, Charlie.  We’ll all be missing you!