IT is not a 'normal' wake. It is a farewell in the time of the Movement Control Order.
The hall is small, much smaller than the expansive, unchanging seascape that Christopher regularly beheld in younger days.
If not for the clean white walls, which to the eyes reflect unending seas, it would be too tiny for a man with a big spirit.
A few chairs line the walls. Two bouquets of flowers sit on pedestals, sentinels evoking dreams in solemnity.
And in the middle of the hall lay a brown casket on a long table draped with white cloth. It is solid, as Christopher was. And it has gilded handles; Christopher's life was anything but gilded.
His portrait is tucked in a funeral spray at the foot of the coffin. He is smiling with the vigour of better days.
Everyone knows Christopher. But there are only a handful of souls at his funeral — his family and pastor George Dass. The rules to prevent the spread of Covid-19 say this must be so.
The few who are in the hall break into songs of praise and hope. A short while later, Christopher's daughter delivers a moving eulogy.
I have watched funerals on television. But these televised send-offs were the preserve of kings, presidents and prime ministers. Sometimes, though, other great figures are mourned in this way. The last one I witnessed was that of the lionised John McCain.
Watching Christopher's funeral on Facebook is surreal. Live-streaming has made many things possible, but the funeral of a friend too?
Perhaps the hundreds of others who join me on Facebook Live feel the same strangeness. But if they do, they scarcely show it.
And even though they are not present in person to condole with Christopher's family, many are offering sympathies to them in real time by way of messages in the FB page.
The messages feel wrong at first. Like interlopers in very personal moments.
Moments of sorrow which should be shared only with a hand on the shoulder, a hug, a nod in sympathy and weeping together. Even if only for a brief time.
The messages, instead, are from so far away. So mechanical, devoid of emotion.
Yet I reproach myself almost at once for my thoughts. Am I the only person who is sad? For sure it cannot be.
Everyone grieves how they must. Alone. With others. With the family of the deceased. With words. Without. The shades of sorrow are many. I am wrong to judge them.
The fact is, Covid-19 has changed many things for the living. And the dead too. Funerals 'without' friends. I suppose we have to live with this, what choice have we?
It is the sadness we will wake up to every day in the season of restrictions and Covid-19. We can merely hope it is only for a time.
The writer is NST Production Editor