I dreamed about him.
I got up at 5 a.m. to go downstairs and have a private cry.
Dont let the bastards get you down.
Michael Ochs Archives
The space he left is filled with more than grief.
It has a sense of urgency.
Time is a thief.
Ive never known anyone as authentically themselves as Kris.
His very thoughts had an armament of courage.
He kept a wide-open heart yet took shit from no one.
It refreshed the spirit to be put in ones place by Kris.
He didnt do small talk.
He knew how to protect his art and his energy.
He knew how to prioritize.
He was preternaturally curious.
Even as an actor, he rhymed his movements, found melody in the scene.
He was spiritually rigorous.
He carried his wounds with dignity.
I cannot imagine anyone less self-pitying or more noble than Kris.
He loved William Blake.
I cant remember if I thanked him for introducing me to Blake.
I hope I did.
He adored my dad, and deferred to him in every instance.
He thought Dad could do no wrong, even when he did wrong.
He forgave his bad behavior, instantly.
Hes a pilgrim and a preacher, and a problem when hes stoned.
He was comfortable wandering through cinders without speaking.
He looked a little alarmed, but didnt say anything.
Before we went onstage that night, he turned to me and said Im nervous because youresensitivetotuning.
Kris was my firewall of love and personal history.
Mom, Dad, my husband John, my kids, Kris.
I cant let myself believe he is gone.
I practice devotion, I pray through craft, but the rebel sage no longer protects the space.
Lisa held it all together in the last years.
His memory was gone, and she said cheerfully, We are just in every moment.
Theres no past or future.
Just this moment right here.
It brings me to my knees that he sang with me.
He can come out whenever he wants.
Well figure it out, I said.
Its all there on film.
I was overcome with the feeling that he was home.
I sort of knew.
I wept when I got off stage.
He had forgotten about our performance by the time we got to the green room.
Maybe it doesnt matter anymore, but it mattered that night.
This is how it begins:
