Obituary for Charles Chrisfield "Chris" Smith II
Dear family and friends . . .
My lovely, loving man has gone.
Chris passed away here at home at 1:23 p.m. on Friday, May 14, 2021. He certainly overachieved in the longevity department — no one at hospice expected him to live as long as he did! He was lucky that he was in no pain throughout the entire ordeal and was relatively lucid and articulate until the very end. (He was diagnosed with a very rare form of non-smoker’s lung cancer, for which there was no cure.) We did have the gift of time, however, and we talked a lot about our life together, things we’d done, people we’d met, and friends we had made. We laughed, we cried, and continuously told each other how much we loved one another. It was a huge bonus time for us. Just a few days ago he walked me through “What if I want to cook a piece of fish on the grill? Take me through that, step by step, please.” And he did. And I took notes.
We met in 1985, appropriately enough in a restaurant. We began hanging out, he always ready and excited to be just driving around, exploring, me taking pictures. The big test? He even offered to carry my camera bag!
Early on he invited me to go on a picnic, and said he’d bring the food (no argument from me). He began opening containers and there was a pasta salad, poached salmon in a dill/caper sauce, lobster medallions, and more. (The man was no fool!)
When I developed a herniating disk in my neck and had to stay in bed for two months, he took good care of me, even feeding me when I couldn’t.
He began accompanying me on the photo walks, in the photo classes, and on workshops I did, proving indispensable as he handled all the little details, enabling me to concentrate more fully on what I was doing. On my photo walks and workshops in the field, he would bring up the rear, making sure no one got lost or left behind. He made gingerbread and hot cider for our “Photographing Holiday Lights in Naples, Long Beach.” He made my students wonderful meals when we did workshops based at our home in Nevada City, California as well as when we lived on the Oregon coast — all with a smile on his face.
I miss him immensely. He was always good to run ideas past and gave me honest feedback when I would show him something I'd made. He “got” me in a way most others could not (I wasn’t exactly low maintenance), and his comments were invaluable. He enabled me to do all the things I’ve done, and to do them better than I would have on my own. When we moved to Whidbey Island, he hired a contractor to make me a studio in the garage. I never would have done that otherwise. And it’s been fantastic.
As he began his slide toward the end of his life, it became my turn to take care of him. I did the grocery shopping (a task I do NOT like) and he would sit in the car so I could text him, asking “where’s the pesto we like?” and he’d know right where it was in the store. I also began doing all the cooking (poor guy). And then all the cleaning, laundry, etc., helping him walk, administering his meds throughout 24/7. We had a hospice team working with us who were incredibly wonderful, and I don’t know what I would have done without their compassion, encouragement, help, information, and suggestions. Those people are saints.
Abby, our cat (lovingly referred to as the Psycho Cat from Hell), slept cuddled up right next to him in the bed all day and all night right until the end. She never had it so good. I had taken Abby to the vet the day Chris died. I left her there to go back and check on Chris, only to find I’d missed his passing by just minutes. But here’s a weird story about that . . .
A female deer with a big stomach had been wandering around our property for the past couple of days, and I figured she was looking for a special place to give birth. While I was on my way home from the vet, the deer was hanging around the birdbath in the back yard. The bath aide (whose name is Tiger) was giving Chris a sponge bath. The respite caregiver (Jackline) was at the window watching the deer. Tiger said to Jackline, “he’s passed.” Jackline, staring out the window, saw the deer immediately fall down and die. No joke. Isn’t that just the weirdest thing you’ve ever heard? And it’s not like Chris had some woo-woo relationship with deer, no. He had no “totem animal.” Boggles my mind.
Chris loved me unconditionally and unselfishly. I am devastated and heartbroken. I trust that wherever Chris is, he is hale and hearty, vibrant and happy. And I will miss him every day.
Just thought you might like to know . . .
Much love to all of you, Carol Leigh and, of course, Chris Smith
In lieu of flowers please make donations to the Hospice of the Northwest in Chris' name at https://www.hospicenw.org/.
My lovely, loving man has gone.
Chris passed away here at home at 1:23 p.m. on Friday, May 14, 2021. He certainly overachieved in the longevity department — no one at hospice expected him to live as long as he did! He was lucky that he was in no pain throughout the entire ordeal and was relatively lucid and articulate until the very end. (He was diagnosed with a very rare form of non-smoker’s lung cancer, for which there was no cure.) We did have the gift of time, however, and we talked a lot about our life together, things we’d done, people we’d met, and friends we had made. We laughed, we cried, and continuously told each other how much we loved one another. It was a huge bonus time for us. Just a few days ago he walked me through “What if I want to cook a piece of fish on the grill? Take me through that, step by step, please.” And he did. And I took notes.
We met in 1985, appropriately enough in a restaurant. We began hanging out, he always ready and excited to be just driving around, exploring, me taking pictures. The big test? He even offered to carry my camera bag!
Early on he invited me to go on a picnic, and said he’d bring the food (no argument from me). He began opening containers and there was a pasta salad, poached salmon in a dill/caper sauce, lobster medallions, and more. (The man was no fool!)
When I developed a herniating disk in my neck and had to stay in bed for two months, he took good care of me, even feeding me when I couldn’t.
He began accompanying me on the photo walks, in the photo classes, and on workshops I did, proving indispensable as he handled all the little details, enabling me to concentrate more fully on what I was doing. On my photo walks and workshops in the field, he would bring up the rear, making sure no one got lost or left behind. He made gingerbread and hot cider for our “Photographing Holiday Lights in Naples, Long Beach.” He made my students wonderful meals when we did workshops based at our home in Nevada City, California as well as when we lived on the Oregon coast — all with a smile on his face.
I miss him immensely. He was always good to run ideas past and gave me honest feedback when I would show him something I'd made. He “got” me in a way most others could not (I wasn’t exactly low maintenance), and his comments were invaluable. He enabled me to do all the things I’ve done, and to do them better than I would have on my own. When we moved to Whidbey Island, he hired a contractor to make me a studio in the garage. I never would have done that otherwise. And it’s been fantastic.
As he began his slide toward the end of his life, it became my turn to take care of him. I did the grocery shopping (a task I do NOT like) and he would sit in the car so I could text him, asking “where’s the pesto we like?” and he’d know right where it was in the store. I also began doing all the cooking (poor guy). And then all the cleaning, laundry, etc., helping him walk, administering his meds throughout 24/7. We had a hospice team working with us who were incredibly wonderful, and I don’t know what I would have done without their compassion, encouragement, help, information, and suggestions. Those people are saints.
Abby, our cat (lovingly referred to as the Psycho Cat from Hell), slept cuddled up right next to him in the bed all day and all night right until the end. She never had it so good. I had taken Abby to the vet the day Chris died. I left her there to go back and check on Chris, only to find I’d missed his passing by just minutes. But here’s a weird story about that . . .
A female deer with a big stomach had been wandering around our property for the past couple of days, and I figured she was looking for a special place to give birth. While I was on my way home from the vet, the deer was hanging around the birdbath in the back yard. The bath aide (whose name is Tiger) was giving Chris a sponge bath. The respite caregiver (Jackline) was at the window watching the deer. Tiger said to Jackline, “he’s passed.” Jackline, staring out the window, saw the deer immediately fall down and die. No joke. Isn’t that just the weirdest thing you’ve ever heard? And it’s not like Chris had some woo-woo relationship with deer, no. He had no “totem animal.” Boggles my mind.
Chris loved me unconditionally and unselfishly. I am devastated and heartbroken. I trust that wherever Chris is, he is hale and hearty, vibrant and happy. And I will miss him every day.
Just thought you might like to know . . .
Much love to all of you, Carol Leigh and, of course, Chris Smith
In lieu of flowers please make donations to the Hospice of the Northwest in Chris' name at https://www.hospicenw.org/.