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Stacey Harkey, left, speaks during the memorial held for Kris Irvin on Saturday, Feb. 12, 2022, at UVU.

Harrison Epstein, Daily Herald

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Jenny Smith speaks during the memorial held for Kris Irvin on Saturday, Feb. 12, 2022, at UVU.

Harrison Epstein, Daily Herald

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Kris Irvin, of Queer Meals, speaks during a press conference held Thursday, June 14, 2018, in front of Provo City Center. The gathering was organized following the Freedom Festival's parade-entry denial of five LGBTQ groups.

Isaac Hale, Daily Herald file photo

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Roni Jo Draper, a BYU professor, bows her head during a moment of silence at the memorial held for Kris Irvin on Saturday, Feb. 12, 2022, at UVU.

Harrison Epstein, Daily Herald

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People look through items owned by Kris Irvin that Irvin's family made available to people at their memorial held Saturday, Feb. 12, 2022, at UVU.

Harrison Epstein, Daily Herald

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“Kris took the dark and made it gray.”

Anyone who interacted with Kris Irvin was spending time with a friend. As person after person came up to the podium in Utah Valley University’s Clarke Building auditorium Saturday, they told stories of run-ins with Irvin and the impacts they made.

“They would’ve been the first to contact someone who was in pain and try to ease that burden with a smile and I think that’s, sort of, the underlying vibe that we’re trying to carry on here,” said Roni Jo Draper, a professor at Brigham Young University and friend of Irvin’s.

Those walking into the memorial/celebration of life for Irvin were met with a reminder of who they were. The banner welcoming them to “Possum Con,” tables of their favorite British snack foods and Diet Cokes and — right at the front — religious candles.

Not just any religions candles, though. Each label was a rainbow with an image of Irvin wearing their signature Jedi robes, holding a lightsaber with a possum sitting on their shoulders and the words “Latter Day Saint Kris” written at the top.

A stalwart of Utah’s LGBT and LDS communities, Irvin was known on Twitter for their love — of people and, most prominently, possums. Irvin was a graduate of Provo High School and UVU after transferring from Brigham Young University. Draper first met Irvin at the Understanding Sexuality Gender and Allyship Club at BYU while she worked with the club and Irvin was regularly attending their meetings.

Irvin was only 35 when they died on Jan. 23, something friends and followers weren’t ready for. “I wasn’t prepared, obviously, at all for this. I think I don’t really feel it completely in my body. I’m also glad to have an opportunity to be together with people who love them and mourn together,” Draper said.

That intersection of faith and sexuality, specifically within the LDS Church, was a driving factor for Irvin.

In 2019, they told The Salt Lake Tribune, “I’m there to show queer LDS kids that it’s possible to be trans and be LDS. Even when things are hard and even when people are transphobic or negative or judgmental, this is one reason why I’m still there.” The comments were not originally published, but were included in the obituary written for Irvin.

Stacey Harkey led the ceremony for Irvin, partially by sharing possum facts to honor their self-defined possum parent.

All along the auditorium halls were pictures and stuffed animals of the resilient rodent. As Harkey said, the possum’s nature to put its children on its back and protect.

“No matter what obstacles were there, Kris always committed to being who Kris was,” Harkey said. He told the story of first meeting Irvin at an affirmation event right after coming out as gay around 2019. “Kris scooped me up and put me on their back. I’ve seen Kris do this so many times with so many different people,” Harkey said.

As a way to remember Irvin, those who were in attendance could sign up for a list to receive a photo of them and a stuffed possum. Those with the possum are encouraged to write a note, take the possum on adventures and take photos with it before ultimately sending the package to the next person.

They also had the chance to take a piece of Irvin home with them. Lining the hallways were tables of items of Irvin’s that friends could take home and keep — everything from ornate copies of the Book of Mormon to a well-worn edition of “The Black Stallion” and plush Baby Yodas.

One by one, people perused the different trinkets and pieces of art that showed the different parts of their personality. People went home with everything from the classics like “Welcome” or “Keep Calm and Carry On” to ones directly at Irvin’s place in people’s hearts reading “Hug A Transgender Mormon” and “Color the Campus.”

Echoing through the halls were conversations about Irvin peppered with both laughter and tears. Some decided to stand in front of the room and share their personal stories with everyone.

One person told the story of meeting Irvin at UVU before an Encircle event, before they fully accepted their sexuality. “The first thing Kris said was, ‘Hi, we’re friends now,'” the speaker recalled. “I think that meeting Kris that day, it is the reason I am who I am right now. … To be honest, I don’t know if I would still be here. Kris is the greatest person I’ve ever had the privilege to know.”

The sentiment was shared by all. Those who met them surrounding questions around their place in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, or their sexuality, or any of the myriad topics with which Kris could be approached.

As Christian Hawkes, who described himself as the “token straight friend,” said, “Wherever they are now, they’re watching out for you, and for me, and they’ve got everyone’s back like they did in life.”

Toward the end of the service, the screen projected “Mr. Magorium’s Wonder Emporium” for people to watch. Harkey’s stumbling through the title, though, brought out the same spirit of teasing that helped Irvin leave such a mark. It became one more chance for people to laugh and celebrate Irvin’s personality that brought everyone together in the first place.

Blown up large and placed at the entrance to the service were also a series of tweets from Irvin in 2019. Before undergoing surgery, they opened their account, @krisis1986, and posted a thread they called a “time honored tradition” which planned their funeral.

Every part of it possible — from the Diet Coke and British snacks to the movie — was done. In their final post of the thread, Irvin wrote, “Man I’m bummed Im gonna miss this it sounds like a great time.”

As a vocal member of the LDS and LGBT communities, Irvin was something of a guide. People who were struggling routinely asked questions and became more full versions of themselves for meeting Irvin. While they may not be available to help others in the future with their journeys of self-discovery, Irvin’s legacy is still strong.

“One of the things that they tried to convey is that there are people out there who love you and will love you. And sometimes, for a young person, it’s not their immediate family. And that’s OK because there’s someone out there who will love on you,” Draper said. “Even if it’s not the same it’s going to be beautiful and it’s going to be enough. There is a whole possum family, and there’s a possum mama who will throw you on their back.”

More than an opportunity for people to come together and grieve Irvin’s death, it was a reminder of everything they had done in life. From each conversation, in-person or online, that helped change someone’s life. Through the memories and the artifacts that will stay in friends’ homes, the message was clear: Kris Irvin will not soon be forgotten.

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