Christopher’s way

Bothell

Christopher Thorp exchanged “iloveyous” with his father one last time on Saturday, June 7.

They played all morning, talking about t-ball and bugs and camping.

Five-year-old Christopher complained at lunchtime that his head hurt. He lost consciousness a moment later and was rushed to Evergreen Hospital where he died from a brain aneurysm.

It wasn’t fair. Adam and Hally Thorp had so many plans for Christopher.

He was starting kindergarten in the fall and first grade after that; there were t-ball games and camping trips.

Christopher was supposed to welcome his baby brother into the world.

“There was no warning; he was complaining about his head and then he was gone,” Hally said. “It was like something out of a movie. We never knew that anything was wrong.”

It would have been easy to give up — to lose faith — but there were people depending on Adam and Hally.

Their 2-year-old son, Matthew, needed his parents’ love now more than ever, and Hally was eight months pregnant.

“We made a decision in that moment; we wanted Christopher to be proud of us,” Adam said. “We still have two boys and they deserve the same life and the same love we gave Christopher.”

Those first steps forward were the most painful of their lives. One day Adam and Hally were planning vacations and celebrating the anticipated birth of their son, Jonathan; they were nervous about Christopher’s first day of school in September. That all changed in June.

Hally and Adam were planning a funeral and helping a 2-year-old cope with the loss of his older brother.

They found strength in their faith and in their belief that God had a plan for Christopher.

“He loved God and he loved going to church,” Hally said. “There was always something about him — the way he looked at things. Christopher had a wisdom beyond his years.”

On May 18, Christopher called his father at work to say goodnight.

Adam, an officer with the Seattle Police Department, missed the phone call, but Christopher left him a voicemail.

“He said, ‘Before I was born I knew you would be a great daddy … No matter what happens I will always love you,’” Adam recited. “I was overwhelmed to hear those words from a 5-year-old, but that was Christopher. Looking back on it I sort of wonder; was he trying to tell me something.”

There have been many revelations — the timing of Hally’s surprise pregnancy for starters.

“After Matthew was born, we decided because I have heart problems that we weren’t going to have anymore children,” Hally said. “I think God was looking out for us and weaving into our lives the strength and love we needed to get through this. To have this baby now is a true gift; every child is a gift.”

They struggle sometimes to balance grief with the joy and excitement they feel about the baby in Hally’s belly. Such is the nature of life, she said. “We hold our sorrows in one hand and our joys in the other hand, but we feel them both together.”

It’s been a month since their son died, but Adam and Hally say Christopher is teaching them even now about love and the power of family.

It never occurred to them how many lives had been touched by their son. But hundreds of people have shared in the family’s sorrow — passed on anecdotes about the boy they knew and loved.

“The support from our community has been amazing,” Adam said. “People I’ve never met before have called me on the phone and offered to help my family.”

He recently talked to a parks and recreation staffer in Mill Creek about placing a memorial bench at Chopper Field, where Christopher played t-ball. It was a brief conversation, but a few hours later Adam and Hally were flooded with offers from various community groups to help memorialize Christopher.

“Before this happened, if someone asked me what I would do if my son died, I would have told them that I would curl up in a ball and wait to die,” Adam said. “It’s not like that. I’ve never felt lost or hopeless. When I’m done sobbing I can get up and go on with my day.”

Adam and Hally hoped Christopher would live to be 100, but they made the most of every day. They have no regrets — no opportunities wasted on something less important.

“Our last words to each other were, ‘I love you,’” Adam said. “He told me he loved me just out of the blue a few seconds before he started complaining about his head. I will carry that with me for the rest of my life.”