Chris ran a hand down his face.
“Why is this so difficult today?” Cameron asked him.
“I don’t know.” He stared into the camera that was waiting to film him being funny as he shared about a pygmy rabbit. He needed to be his usual YouTube persona, but for some reason he couldn’t find the wherewithal to care.
He sighed and sat down on the stool. “I’m having a hard time feeling like making these videos matters in the grand scheme of things.” Holding Erykah when she cried, that mattered. Planning a ski trip to keep the girls occupied, that mattered. Okay, so maybe not so much the ski trip itself, but the fact the sport was an activity all of them could participate in and make memories ...together.
Performing for a camera in the hopes that someone would be convicted to take better care of the planet and the animals within ... well, would they? Or would it just come off as entertainment value? The PathLight docuseries was more in-depth and could potentially do more than his YouTube channel, but Chris no longer believed his involvement to be a good idea. The director seemed to want to commercialize Colorado for tourist reasons, not to help save the world. Shame on Chris for thinking he could convince anyone to be a better steward. The odds of that were like one in a million.
Jesus would go after that single one.
Chris let out a breath. “I’m sorry. Give me a second to get my head on straight.”
“Want to talk about it?” Cameron gave him a sympathetic glance.
“I wouldn’t even know where to start.”
“With the words making the loudest noise.”
That actually made a lot of sense. The thing that had been echoing in his head since Erykah’s breakdown was the idea of being there for someone. How could Chris physically be present for someone in need? His mom didn’t seem to need anything from him, never had. Though there was the strange interaction Thanksgiving Day. She’d cooked for them all, cooed over the girls, then exited without anI love you. But that was all beside the point.
Erykah needed a friend, the girls needed guardianship, and the world... Well, the world was too big for him to hold in his hands. So he’d been thinking about his personal circle—which encompassed Erykah and the girls, the guys and their ladies, and Cameron and the people at work. Was his circle supposed to be that small?
“I’m not sure if what I’m currently doing is what I’m supposed to be doing. Am I making any sort of effective change, or am I just chasing numbers to get more subscribers?” He ran a hand down his face. “I believe God wants me to show the majesty of His creatures and creation. That I’m supposed to challenge people in a kind way to care for the earth and everything in it. But the board wants to show progress, and having a million subscribers is proof, but am I actually making a difference? I just feel so...”
“Helpless?” Cameron supplied.
“Yes.” His shoulders sagged. “That about sums it up.”
“Chris, I think everyone goes through that. Not only do we all come to that crossroad, but you have to remember, you’re grieving.”
He blinked. “Come again? I’m not the one who lost a sister and brother-in-law. Erykah did.”
“I know, and her grief is different from yours because of all the shared memories she has. Plus, she’s a single parent all of a sudden. But you’re grieving with her. I know you. You don’t do things halfway. Your heart hurts for her and those girls. That’s grief. It’s actually known asdisenfranchised griefbecause society’s rules on grief make us feel like we can only lament for people we knew personally.”
“Disenfranchised grief? Where did you even hear that?” He stared at Cam in amazement.
“A podcast on grief.” Cameron gave a soft smile. “I’m realizing that I’m an empath, so I’ve been doing my research so that my emotions don’t tank because of another person’s. Anyway, they did an episode on this type of grief. It’s why millions of people can mourn the loss of a celebrity even though they didn’t personally know them. The celebrity still touched our lives. Whether it’s because we grew up watching them on a show that gave us special memories, or we sang every song they ever recorded. It doesn’t matter why we grieve. Erykah’s family has impacted you. You are grieving, and as your colleague and friend, I’m telling you it’s okay.”
Chris let her words sink in. “I keep thinking of Erykah’s nieces. Ash will have no memories of her mom or dad whatsoever, and Cheye...” He ran a hand through his hair. “I’m not sure what she’ll remember when she’s older. My heart breaks every time I see them.”
“Grief.”
He let out a chuckle. “Fine. I get it. I’m grieving because of the impact they have on me currently, not previously.”
“In a nutshell.”
Wow. Something to mull over later.
“And if you think about it, God made us to be a community. You and I are the body of Christ, so what affects me affects you. We may not look at it like that because we don’t share the same home, but if someone in my family passed away, wouldn’t you grieve for me?”
“Well, yeah. But I’ve also known you for a decade.” He winced. “Yikes. Makes me sound old.”
“You are old.”
He folded his arms. “Not you too.”
“You’re not shocked.” Cameron smiled. “Just remember that God wants us watching over each other and being concerned for one another. Just look at how manyone anotherstatements are in the New Testament. To me, it sounds like you’re doing exactly what He’s asked you to do.”
