Stop the Clocks

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.



I stand before you today, the representative of a family in grief, in a country in mourning, before a world in shock. We are all united not only in our desire to pay our respects to Chepe, but rather in our need to do so. For such was his extraordinary appeal that the tens of millions of people taking part in this service all over the world via television, radio, and internet who never actually met him, feel that they too lost someone close to them in the early hours of Saturday morning. It is a more remarkable tribute to him than I can ever hope to offer him today.

Today is our chance to say thank you for the way Chepe brightened our lives, even though he himself was granted but half a life. We all feel cheated that he was taken from us so young and yet we must learn to be grateful that he came along at all. We have despaired at his loss over the past few days and only the strength of the message he gave us through his years of selfless giving has afforded us the strength to move forward.

The last time I saw Chepe was on June 10th of last year in North Carolina. I was sitting at the dining room table in my brother's house with my nephew and my girlfriend, the three of us languidly watching Chepe out on the front lawn. I cannot recall what he was doing, but I distinctly remember glancing at my two companions: his bright blue eyes were as large as dinner plates; and she, an admitted anti-cat person, eked a grin out of the corner of her mouth that eventually spread into a full-fledged smile. Unable to spend more than a few waking moments away from him, I opened the front door and whistled. Chepe meowed and bounded in and immediately leapt up into my mom's lap. My brother's wife, adorable nephew number two in tow, sat down at my mom's left as my mom began to scratch behind Chepe's ears. If the newest addition to the family hadn't shortly thereafter been distracted by his portable breakfast, he too would have been fixated on Chepe. Such was Chepe's charm. He was as charismatic as any four-legger, and most two-leggers, that ever were and was almost impossible to keep your eyes (and hands) off of. He touched us all and we will miss him dearly.

Chepe is survived by his loving parents in DC and Vietnam, his sister Minga in Minneapolis, three siblings in Guatemala, and, I think, no children.

Chepe Alejandro Tuchman belongs to the ages now. But I'll have to admit, it was much better when he belonged to us.