On February 10th, 2007, Chase Korte was driving along Interstate 40 near Needles, CA, when he was hit by a drunk driver at 162mph. The impact struck him like a missile and his life was instantly taken at the tender age of 24.
I didn’t have the privilege of meeting Chase before he tragically left us, but his life has nevertheless had an impact on mine. Nine months before he passed, Chase had bumped into my husband, Phillip, by Loch Ness in Scotland whilst he was filming an independent movie, “Peace Walker” - a project involving him walking 1,100 miles from the most northern point of Scotland to the bottom of Land’s End, England, all in the name of peace. After chatting next to a herd of highland coos, the two became fast friends and over the following few months regularly hung out in LA where they both resided. Never one to leave another out, Phillip swiftly welcomed Chase into his community and soon found a close friend in the young actor.
The same month that Phillip met Chase is also when our paths crossed for the first time, and so his name became as familiar to me as if we had also hung out on the banks of a Scottish loch. I know that if he had lived, he would have stood alongside Phillip on our wedding day, would have spent hours at our home in deep debate and laughter; he would have been a part of the furniture of our lives. And in many ways he still is.
Last week, over twelve years after Chase’s death, Phillip and I got to meet and go for dinner with his wonderful parents, Pat and Linda. It’s possible for loss to leave a heart feeling barren, the grief of what has been taken leaving no room for life to flourish, but as we sat around the dinner table I only became aware of how enriched each heart was. To lose a child at any age is unimaginable, but to do so as a result of an accident that could have been prevented is torturous. However, Pat and Linda displayed a marriage that has weathered the harshest of storms, and hearts that have chosen love over bitterness. Memories were shared like gifts across the table as Chase was brought back to life with each humorous recollection, poignant memory and remembered interaction.
No one would have guessed what or who gathered us around the table that evening, we looked like any other group lost in conversation, but I found myself regarding this moment as something sacred to be savored and treasured. I think one of the greatest acts of vulnerability is to keep your heart soft and open in the aftermath of tragedy.
“Vulnerability is the birthplace of love, belonging, joy, courage, empathy, and creativity. It is the source of hope, empathy, accountability, and authenticity. If we want greater clarity in our purpose or deeper and more meaningful spiritual lives, vulnerability is the path.”
- Brené Brown
It takes courage to be vulnerable and it takes stepping out in vulnerability in order to receive deeper healing. Sat with Pat and Linda I witnessed how their choice not to give up but to choose one another in the midst of their journey of loss, pain and seeking justice, had made room for a beautiful strength to rise up in them. They are a mother and father, not just to Chase and their younger son Joel, but to many others who do not have the honour of sharing their name. When you carry the heart of a mother or father it changes your perspective on everything and motivates you to act, not just for yourself, but for the benefit of all humanity.
As I mulled over the time we spent together I was once again reminded of these words I penned a couple of years ago:
Life is the most precious of gifts and every heartbeat resounds throughout all of eternity.
Chase Korte (1982-2007)
