I met Chris 40 years ago, briefly dated him when I first moved to Boston in 1985, and soon decided that he was a drunken, sexist jerk. But Chris, ever gregarious, continued to contact me. Years after I'd moved to California, he attended a dharma program that lasted five consecutive summers in a nearby town and he called wanting to borrow my bike to get to and from his hotel. Over those years, we grew closer and closer. In the last couple of years, a time of increasing loneliness for him, he called me at least weekly. As for so many of us, suffering sanded off Chris's rough edges, softening his heart. He lost adored friends, Binny and Stavros, his older brother, a woman he called the love of his life. He got cancer. His knees gave out. He drank more and more and eventually stopped trying to quit. Despite all his quirks, Chris was fun loving, funny, intelligent, scholarly, musical, athletic, deeply devoted to Trungpa Rinpoche who he always referred to as "the boss", and well versed in the Dharma. He was a teacher, a musician, and a skilled craftsman. He laughed easily and was one of the friendliest people I've ever met. Turns out, he was possessed of a deeply loving heart. I felt loved by him and love for him and will forever miss him.