A Late Eulogy: Christopher Hitchens

I have referenced my habit of written correspondence in this column before. One of my most stinging regrets, as far as writing is concerned, is that I never wrote to Christopher Hitchens. Four years ago, I sat with my pen and a Mead notebook intending to scribble the words “Dear Hitch….” I had planned to begin a simple correspondence on faith, politics and writing.

I never wrote a word. A little over a year later, Christopher Hitchens died and I no longer had the luxury of pretending I would one day write to him.

Christopher Hitchens was, as far as the Christian is concerned, a better cut of critic, a more engaging sort of antagonist.  At the time I didn’t see it, but between the day when I set down my pen and the day I heard I would never pick it up again, Christopher Hitchens fought one last war with totalitarianism against the modern fad of euthanasia.

When Hitch set about writing his memoir in 2009, a few of his friends suggested it was too soon. “Better than too late,” came the reply. This was hauntingly accurate. During Hitchens’ appearance on The Daily Show promoting the book, Jon Stewart asked “How are you my friend?” “It’s a bit early to say,” issued from Hitch’s sly grin. Stewart thought he was joking about drinking. Little did he know that Hitchens had been diagnosed with cancer only hours earlier.

And so it began. His mind fogged up, and he kept writing. He lost his voice, yet forced his way through interviews. He insisted that he still had scores to settle, battles to fight. “I’ve never asked for sympathy because I never intended on showing any,” said Hitch to Laurie Taylor. He wrote and appeared in public until he was wasted to his weary bones. He died of the cancer in a Houston hospital room.

Hitch was a better cut by comparison to today’s gadflies. Ezekiel Emmanuel shamefully wants to drop dead at age 75, because getting old would be an inconvenience. Brittany Maynard took her own life well before her cancer would have. Though Hitchens never made an explicit point of it, by living till the very end he offered a stern rebuke to these self-indulgent death peddlers.

That may be his greatest contribution to our modern world. Like Peter Robinson, I disagree with him on religion completely, on politics half of the time, and I am too ignorant concerning literature to make even a modest critique of his opinions. Writing of his brother, Peter Hitchens described him as courageous. Not couragous in a fearless sort of way, but courageous in a way that “overcomes real fear, while actually experiencing it.” He actually experienced the agony of a slow death and I am grateful he embodied courage to the very end. No one will ever say that dying is not difficult, but Hitchens said, almost entirely by example, that living was more important.

Christopher Hitchens died on this day in 2011.