Eulogy for Chase Broussard
ne of my oldest friends, Chase Broussard, passed away in May 2018, a few days short of his 27th birthday.
Chase Broussard was a rare breed. He lived a full and exciting life, traveling the world and experiencing more in 26 years than most do in twice that time. I was proud to count him among my closest friends.
Our friendship started in middle school, when we would have sleepovers and talk until 3am about everything from gun rights to what it meant to live a good life. Granted, we were 13, so these conversations weren’t objectively profound, but that didn’t stop them from feeling profound to us. Chase had all the qualities of a great conversational partner at that time – he was curious, excited about new ideas, and open to changing his mind.
By the time we reached high school, Chase was a champion runner, often going for seven mile runs in the middle of the night. He was a man of limitless energy, and what energy he didn’t apply to running was applied to laughing and partying. If we weren’t out together at a party, we would be inventing games in his basement or dancing like wild men. I’m grateful not only for the good times we shared, but also that we grew up in the days before cell phone cameras became any good. That footage of us dancing would not have aged well.
We never lived in the same city after high school, but that didn’t impede our friendship. Our calls never were less than an hour, often longer. Chase was an excellent storyteller, and could tell hilarious stories for hours on end. When not telling stories, we would talk about his dream of travelling the world and soaking in new cultures and ideas, a dream he made real for himself during his time in Asia. It takes a bold and courageous person to cross the world by themselves, and Chase was just such a person.
Tragically, his time in Asia was cut short. But even in the last months before he passed, chase displayed the same thoughtfulness and humour as always. It is my great comfort knowing firsthand that chase was ready for and accepting of his own end. We spoke about how he had no fear of dying, and how the entire experience had given him a deep sense of love for all living things. He felt connected to the universe for the first time, and he told me about the peace that brought him. To the end, he expressed constant gratitude for his caring and loving family. He was an inspiration, a true inspiration, for how to handle life’s difficulties with dignity and grace.
I will always remember him as he lived – thirsting for adventure, smiling mischievously, and looking at the world with compassionate eyes. The world is less interesting without him in it, but we are all better for having known him while he was here.
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