Krippl

Cory Christopher Carrier (12/7/87-10/1/09)
http://www.azstarnet.com/sn/printDS/312479

I’m not sure what prompted me to write this post today, perhaps it is because it’s his birthday in two days.  I’ve had trouble finding a way to express how I felt about the man in the picture above.  He was my cousin, but more than that, he was my friend, and someone I admired and looked up to (no pun intended).  You see, Cory had muscular dystrophy, he had been confined to a wheelchair.  By talking to him, and getting to know him, you’d find it hard to believe.  Hence the name Krippl, which he assigned himself.

It didn’t matter to me.  As I most certainly, evidently learned quickly after I heard of his passing away.  Friends came up to me to give me comfort, etc…and asked how he passed since he was so young.  Cory had a bout of flu, and ended up in the hospital at the end of September, and was unable to beat it.  It was H1N1.  That’s neither here, nor there.  This post is not about the end, but his life.

When I was growing up, I moved around a lot, so I wasn’t always so close to Cory.  But when I moved back to Tucson for middle school, and high school.  I grew quite close with him.  I remember playing video games with him all the time when I was growing up, I would routinely kick his butt at these games early on, as I’m 8 years older than him.  But eventually, this computer genius started kicking my butt all the time, and that got old fast, if you know me.  I still played with him, but I also obviously started growing out of the video game stage.

Cory and I had another love in common.  Our love for technology.  He had another moniker that I laugh at still today, Geeky Gimp.  Heh…definitely a geek, I think anyone who knew him, knows that.  Cory was much better with computers than me, and I’m sure he got sick of my constant pinging him to ask him computer questions.  He never showed it though, always willing to help and educate me.  I still try to ping him today, but when I scroll down my buddy list, he’s not there anymore and that’s when it’s hardest.  I miss him…

There’s something else I always admired about Cory.  He was an ambassador for Muscular Dystrophy Association, and always helped at the local telethon, and would be seen on television often.  As long as I can remember, I’ve never seen Cory once complain about his circumstances.  I try to model my life after him, because whenever I get down, and worry about things, or get upset about my circumstances, I say “what would Cory think?”  If Cory ever was frustrated about his situation, he never let on.  Even in the last days, I remember  a tweet by him, “thank god for hot nurses.”  That’s just who he was, always looking at the bright side, never worrying about tomorrow, because let’s face it, none of us are guaranteed tomorrow.  Only the present, and that’s why it is a gift.  A silly cliche, but it fits.

I never knew how much my cousin thought of me, I knew we were good friends, etc…but I never asked him.  Then one day a few months before his passing, he pinged me, with saying only one thing. “I’m proud of you.”  (In regards to my desire to improve my health and weight).  I wish he was here to celebrate with me when I hit the 100 pounds plateau.  I just achieved that near the middle of November.  I know you are watching down on me, and and are proud of me. I never told Cory how I felt about him.  I wish I had, and if he is reading this right now, I’d tell him, no, Cory, it’s me who should be proud of you.  You lived life in such a way that made everyone love you, and made it hard to feel crappy about my own life when you grabbed life by the horns and did it your way.

A week after Cory’s passing ( I believe), we had a impromptu get together at his mother’s house.  And I was having trouble with the situation still.  So I went in his bedroom, Cory and I also showed another passion, for the Arizona wildcats.  He had so many things from them signed, I was always jealous, but glad he had them.  Then as I was walking out the bedroom door, I looked on his desk, and I saw something that floored me.  There was a book on his desk about learning sign language.  I always knew he wanted to, but I never had the time to come help him learn it.  I wish I had.  I didn’t realize he kept trying to do it on his own anyway.  I wish I gave him more of my time to learn it.

I hope to be half the man Cory is, and was.  If I am, I’ll be alright, and life will be okay.  I miss you man, I love you.  It’s just not the same here without you.  Rest in peace, Krippl.

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