Christine lived in such an eloquent and gracious way, I'm afraid my words won't do justice to her life. But I thought I'd share a few thoughts and stories anyway.

Let me start with her humor:

During her last month, Christine took numerous medications (to treat her pain, seizures, and nausea,) that sometimes made her drowsy. One morning while she sat at our small breakfast table eating her traditional cereal with blueberries and a little milk her eyes began to close, fell to half-mast, then shut completely as her spoon threatened to slip from her hand. Trying to be a sensitive husband, I whispered, "Honey, I think you might need a nap." Without opening her eyes, she fired back with a sleepy grin, "So what was your first clue?"

More recently, the Blue Angels were practicing for SeaFair and flew directly over our house in their diamond formation. Being a longtime Top Gun fighter pilot wannabe, I ran outside to watch. Back inside I returned to her bedside. I said excitedly to Christine, "I wish I could've been a Blue Angel, looking hot in one of those blue flight suits. If I'd become a fighter pilot, what do you think our marriage would have been like?"

"Short!" she said, without a pause.

That was August 2, the day before she passed away.

Christine's courage was another thing I admired. She fought her four-year battle with melanoma with great determination and resolve. Even in the last eight months, when her cancer was extremely aggressive, she never thought of quitting no matter how much pain she was in. Her strength came from her amazing faith and from the One she put her faith in. I hope to honor her by facing all of my fears and challenges as she did, with unwavering courage.

One thing everyone knew about Christine is that she was a peacemaker - someone always willing to take the blame and apologize if she thought it would make peace possible. She preferred to lose and be loving rather than win and be right. The only exception was when she played family games, especially something like Taboo, which requires verbal skill. Then she could be ruthless. I know, I lost to her many times.

Christine the peacemaker was also Christine the affirmer. In any conversation with her, it wouldn't be long before she'd shift the focus off of her and onto you. I remember her friends asking after her brain surgery how she was doing and what they could do for her. Her response was: "I'm fine. I have a little headache...but how are your kids?"

Then there were the superlatives - she was the Queen of Superlatives. Once, I actually heard her say, "I am never, ever going to use another superlative for as long as I live."

Finally, there's Christine the gardener. Christine loved nature in all its forms. She especially loved the mountains and the wildflowers on Mt. Rainier and in the Swiss Alps, and she loved her garden. Year after year she'd come home from the Flower and Garden Show at the convention center and say, with an energized twinkle in her eye, "THIS is the year we'll have that amazing garden!"

I never did understand Christine's passion to have rich black dirt until recently. She had always wanted to have better dirt in our back yard, not the Laurelhurst clay that came with the house. She wanted mounds of this rich black dirt that seem to only come in those expensive bags from City Peoples hardware store. I learned she knew better than I the importance of the environment when you grow fragile plants.

Christine would have liked to spend much more of her time in her garden, but that never quite came about. What she did instead was plant, till and water in another way - by caring for the most precious things in her life, our two daughters. Her kind encouragement of them, her constant prayers for them, and the many ways she stayed close to them as she participated in their lives in anyway she could gave them a wonderful start in life.

But she knew her caring for them wasn't over. That's why, in the last CarePages posting she made before she died, she wrote to all of you, "Please pray for and keep an eye on Maddie and Kaki."

Today, to honor Christine, I ask you to remember her request: keep an eye on the blooming flowers she so dearly loved and devoted herself to. And please pray for them and me, not only today but in the days ahead.

We have been humbled already by your prayers, your kindness and your love. We thank you with all the thanks we have to give for all you've done and all you continue to do. Your love is the finest tribute you could give to the woman we all loved so much.