Chris,
You were a voice of my adolescence and rebellious youth and I loved you then. Since, you’ve had a constant ebb and flow in and out of my life and love of music, in the most beautiful sense, coming back in a new and beautiful form every time.

The morning I learned you had left us, just an hour south of me, was the most brutal of wake-up calls. This seemed so incredibly personal. You belong(ed) to us.

In a tragically beautiful way, time since has been spent rediscovering and reconnecting with you through music, and uncovering true genius in your songwriting I never knew (or fully appreciated) were there. I’m finding that with this tremendous and irreplaceable void that you’ve left behind, you’ve also allowed the silver linings to shine through in a way that is almost like finding a buried treasure or opening a Christmas gift a little here and there. I am grateful for that.

My own personal gift was hearing Soundgarden come on the radio just as I pass the Fox Theater as I tearfully point out to my daughter where you sang your last note. Was that you? Another gift was learning the same day I had finished “Ariel”, that you were a fan of Sylvia Plath. Little things, you know, they speak very loudly, and they are extraordinarily comforting.

After nearly eight months, the most heart-warming and heart-breaking aspect is to recall and find in a deeper sense what a genuine and kind soul you were- to everyone, in every way. I wish I could have known you. Luckily, through music, you’ve been there; for two-thirds of my life, through the waves of the lifeline that matters to me the most- my music, you were there. You are there.

I am grateful to have existed in this world with you in it. With all the love that this world has for you, you will live on forever.

Loud Love,
Angie Fox