Chris' Eulogy

Here is a copy of the eulogy which was given by Greg Spence, one of Chris' best friends. Greg was an amazing friend to Chris. He was right there with the rest of us into the wee hours at the hospital day in and day out. Thank you, Greg, for all that you did for Chris and our family.

Eulogy for Christopher Clarke Patterson:

Today, we’ve gathered together to cherish the many memories of Chris Patterson, a dear son, brother, nephew, cousin, and friend. Though the many paths we’ve taken with Chris by our side originate in different times and different places, they’ve finally converged here, in this single, blessed celebration of his life.

Chris was first led on these paths by his parents, Doug and Lisa, who instilled in him the hard-earned values of love, kindness, determination, and faith. Like twin pillars, they have supported him at every stage of his life: from his early days in Talladega and Troy, to his more recent times in Phenix City and Panama City. In his sisters, there are also reflections of Chris; in Lauren, his restless, adventurous spirit resides; in Natalie, his persistent drive for success.

My path with Chris began six years ago, when I first started teaching English at Chattahoochee Valley Community College. Within months, we’d become fast friends. We would spend countless hours catching up, chatting about everything under the sun. After gradually getting to know him better, I marveled at the range and depth of Chris’s interests. In the course of a single conversation, it wasn’t unusual for us to discuss:

Music: Chris loved music, especially acoustic guitar songs.

Movies: He had a special passion for disaster movies. If the movie involved zombies taking over a small town or a meteor plummeting to earth, you can bet that, on opening night, Chris would be sitting in the front row of the theater.

Television: Chris avidly watched episodes of Curb your Enthusiasm and loved The Office, in large part, because he was living it every day at C.V.C.C. He came across a whole cast of characters there.

Books: He would always pick up the latest Dan Brown thriller or spy novel. My own personal favorite was one entitled “Marketing to Women: How to Understand, Reach, and Increase Your Share of the World’s Largest Market Segment.” Apparently, Chris wasn’t only studying Economics while enrolled in Business classes at Troy.

Chris can be admired for so many reasons:

He was kind, even-tempered, gracious, and always modest.
He was calm in the midst of crisis, like the eye in the center of a hurricane.
But most of all, he was an extraordinary listener. When you were in Chris’ presence, a solemn hush would fall over the room: that was the sound of him listening to you.

Working with Ms. Cynthia Floyd in Student Services, Chris managed literally thousands of students and advisees who arrived at his door, which was always open. He registered them for classes, instructed them in Orientation courses, and guided them in student organizations. More importantly, he played an indispensible role in shaping and directing each student’s future.

All his life, Chris was a fighter. In the last few weeks, he fought harder than he ever had. His numbers were down, but with the help of his loved ones we rallied to his cause, stirred him with our words. We called him by many names: son, brother, nephew, cousin, friend, “Christopher,” “Chris,” “Christo,” “Bigfoot,” even “Rambo.” And as we called him, he listened to us, he responded to our call, and he climbed back to the top.

I know that Chris has ascended to heaven, where he is at peace with our Lord. That state of constant, peaceful calm was always in his nature, after all. He’s at home now. You can call on him any time there, and he will respond.

A little over a year ago, Chris sent me an email. In it was a brief message and a link to a live performance by a band that he loved. The brief message read: “don’t know if you’re into The Highwaymen. Here is one of their songs. One of my favorites.” Listen carefully to the songs’ lyrics and you’ll hear echoes of Chris’ voice:


I was a sailor. I was born upon the tide.

And with the sea I did abide.

I sailed a schooner round the Horn to Mexico.

I went aloft and furled the mainsail in a blow

And when the yards broke off they said that I got killed

But I am living still.


I was a dam builder across the river deep and wide

Where steal and water did collide.

A place called Boulder on the wild Colorado.

I slipped and fell into the wet concrete below

They buried me in that great tomb that knows no sound.

But I am still around…I’ll always be around…

and around and around and around and around.


I fly a starship across the Universe divide

And when I reach the other side

I’ll find a place to rest my spirit if I can

Perhaps I may simply be a single drop of rain

But I will remain.

And I’ll be back again and again and again and again.