Losing Christine Floss
A year ago this week, I was amping up for my 40th
birthday celebration: seeing Trevor Noah, Hamilton,
and the Decemberists. These are some of
my favorite folks and I was so lucky that all three hit Saint Louis in the same
month. On April 18th, the
Whomptons skipped school for a mid-day Hamilton
showing and we hit all the emotional extremes:
boisterous enthusiasm, intense passion, lots of laughter, and uncontrolled
sobbing. We were emotionally exhausted
by the end of the show and were grateful to go home and crash. Unfortunately, that’s not what happened.
We arrived home to find Samantha in tears. She sat me down and told me that my dear
friend Christine Floss had died from an apparent heroin overdose. I had no idea that Christine had turned to
heroin. Her substance of choice had been
alcohol, but I knew she had been sober for multiple years. I also knew that she had been sad and lonely,
and I was rocked to my core wondering whether depression had led to suicide and
whether there had been signs that I had missed.
In retrospect, of course there had been.
It was small comfort to learn that she did not intentionally commit suicide;
instead she had overdosed and, without receiving medical attention or Narcan,
had died. I spent a lot of time in the
next ten days crying, grieving, and being angry at Christine and at
myself.
As a member of the Ethical Society, I spoke at Christine’s memorial
on April 25th. I did not get
through my speech without crying and I still cannot read it without tearing
up. I miss her fiercely and am still
intensely sad at the loss of her life.
She was an amazing human being and she modeled for me how to be a better
person, how to live and love deeply.
I do not believe in an after-life; I know that Christine is
truly and utterly gone. She’s not
forgotten, though, and on this first anniversary of her death, I want to pay
tribute to her memory and share what I wrote for her memorial.
Hello. My name is
Krystal White, and I am absolutely bereft to stand here today – to share all
the ways I admired Christine Floss, how she inspired me and touched my life,
and realize that I didn’t fully articulate to her how much she meant to me when
she was alive. So, thank you, for
allowing me the chance to pay tribute to such a beautiful individual and friend.
Christine personified kindness, empathy, humility, and
generosity. She was wicked bright, quick
to problem solve, and direct, while also being gentle, considerate, and
thoughtful. She found such joy in her
family, her service, her travels. She
worried a lot, was lonely sometimes and sad, and she tried to shield the rest
of us from how she was feeling when she was down. I wished that this super-human woman had
asked for more help and that I, as her friend, had done a better job of asking
– really asking – how she was.
Christine intensely focused on individuals and
relationships. She demonstrated full
respect by honoring the time together, being fully present, listening deeply, pausing
and responding thoughtfully, offering compassion and insight. A self-described introvert, she still said
“yes!” each time she was invited out – she was looking out for us and wanted to
know how we were doing and how she could help, always, always, how she could
help. If she knew you then she cared
about you, and if she cared about you then she’d do anything for you. In this way, she lived her life fully and
with no half-measures; her connections and relationships were deep and
heartfelt and the crowd here today is a testament to the love she gave freely
to others.
Christine fully lived the motto of “deed before creed.” She talked the talk and walked the walk of
ethical living – her reflective, thoughtful, and empathetic nature shone
through in every interaction. Christine put
her ethics in action through service to the community, and she modeled how to
say YES! To every opportunity. Because,
let’s be honest, there wasn’t anything that Christine said “no” to. She always said yes – always found space in
her heart for more people, always found time to take on new leadership roles – and,
as a result, Christine was involved in so much here at the Ethical Society. A partial list: She served on the Ethical Action committee,
Governance Task Force, Ethicyclists, Development and Legacy Teams, Concordance
Academy Team, Diversity Task Force, highway clean-up, and Sunday ushering. She
gave two platform talks (even though she hated to speak publicly AND hated to
get dressed up), and she served on the Board of Trustees in President, Vice
President, and Secretary roles – a total of eight years in all. I always wanted Christine on my team; she valued
giving back, she deeply cared about this community, she acted with real
intention and commitment, and she was so incredibly capable – each of these groups
benefited from her expertise and leadership.
If Christine saw a need, she decided to meet that need, regardless of
the personal cost to herself.
Christine also was a philanthropist. She knew that where she spent her money was a
demonstration of her love, and she challenged each of us to give more to the
organizations that mattered to us individually.
She wished to help children and to end worldwide poverty. I remember when she stood at this very podium
and shared that she gave away 10% of her income each year to anti-poverty
efforts and that she was contributing to other non-profit organizations on top
of that amount. There was an audible
gasp and “wow!” response from this crowd as we all marveled at how she
intentionally put her values into action, how selfless and generous she was,
how her inner character shone so brightly.
That passion transferred to FOTCOH, friends of the children of Haiti;
she actively fundraised for them by organizing Trivia Nights and she devoted
time to volunteer in Haiti herself. FOTCOH
was one of her many joys. And she was so
humble about her this work – she was featured as a “top volunteer” by FOTCOH and
she never said anything about it, nor did she desire recognition for her
service to the Ethical Society.
She used physical mementos to capture these emotions and
experiences of her life. Did you ever
ride in her car? She kept a little
stuffed bunny rabbit in the cup holder, a permanent ride-along friend and a
source of laughter. And each of her
tattoos had a story – love for her husband, processing through grief, the importance
of moving forward in life, her mental health struggles, her connection with her
daughter. A decade ago, she lost her
beloved husband Frank and she credited the Ethical Society community for
getting her through – for helping her navigate a path through her sadness,
loneliness, and pain. I know we all will
be depending on each other to help navigate our own paths through the sadness,
horror, shock, and pain of her tragic death, and her life can be a model for
that – how to live and love deeply, how to give continuously, and how to trust,
build, and sustain community.
My life was better because Christine Floss was in it. All of our lives were better. We will miss her terribly. Thank you.
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