Christopher Brandon Buker

January 26, 1985 – September 28, 2026

Christopher Brandon Buker, 41, of Portland, Oregon, passed away on September 28, 2026. Born on January 26, 1985, Chris was a lifelong Portlander, born and raised in the city he always called home.

Chris was the beloved son of Corena Schultz and Troy Buker and brother to Ashley Schwartz, Jeremiah Schultz, Hailey Buker, Devon Buker, and Logan Buker. He was brother-in-law to Curtis Schwartz and uncle to his nephews, Tyson and Nyjah Schwartz, and his niece, Jada Schwartz.

Chris passed just one day before the birthday of his beloved grandmother, Dorothea “Dolly” Delaino, whom he now joins along with his grandfather, Harold “Lee” Delaino. Chris was Dolly's first grandchild and, as the family lovingly knew, her favorite grandchild. His family finds comfort in imagining that, on her birthday, Dolly received the greatest gift she could have asked for—her Chris back in her arms.

To his family, Chris wasn't always Christopher or even Chris. To his mom, he was affectionately “Furhead,” a nickname that was uniquely his. And to Chris, she was always his “Mama Bear.” Those simple names carried a lifetime of memories and a special bond between a mother and her son.

Chris graduated from Cleveland High School in 2003 and earned a four-year academic scholarship to Portland State University. He possessed an incredibly intelligent and quick mind, along with a personality that was entirely his own. Chris was kind, loyal, sarcastic, and effortlessly funny. He had a way of making people laugh, often when they least expected it, and those who knew him will forever carry the jokes, one-liners, and stories that could only have come from him.

And there are certainly a few stories that probably shouldn't make it into an obituary.

Those may be some of the best ones.

One of Chris's greatest passions was Magic: The Gathering. For approximately 25 years, Magic was much more than a game to him. Chris became a gifted competitive player and a highly respected member of the Magic community, where he earned the nickname “The Prodigy.”

And he earned it.

His skill took him into competitive tournaments and gave him opportunities to travel around the world. Chris didn't simply play Magic; he understood the game on a remarkable level. He challenged himself against other talented players and earned the respect of those who sat across the table from him. For those who knew The Prodigy through Magic, his legacy extends far beyond the cards themselves.

Outside of Magic, Chris loved music, playing Clash Royale, and writing and rapping his own lyrics. He had a creative side and a sense of humor that could turn an ordinary moment into a story worth telling years later. Whether through a joke, a lyric, a game, or simply being Chris, he had his own unmistakable way of moving through the world.

Chris's journey through life was not always an easy one. There were roads he traveled that were harder than many people knew. But the difficult chapters of someone's story should never be allowed to erase all the pages that came before them.

They did not define Chris.

He was a son, a brother, an uncle, and a friend.

He was Furhead.

He was The Prodigy.

And above everything else, Chris mattered.

He mattered to his family, his friends, and to the community of people who came to know and respect him throughout his life. He mattered to his Mama Bear, to his father, to his brothers and sisters, and to those who shared pieces of his journey with him. His life had value, his presence left an imprint on this world, and his absence will be felt by those who knew and loved him.

Those who loved Chris will remember the laughter and the stories. They'll remember his music, his jokes, the things he was passionate about, and the moments that became memories without anyone realizing at the time how precious they would someday become. They'll remember the stories that can be told publicly and, perhaps even more fondly, the ones that will forever stay within the family.

They'll remember Furhead.

They'll remember The Prodigy.

But most of all, they'll remember Chris.

There are some lives whose impact cannot be measured by the number of years they were given. They are measured instead by the stories that continue to be told, the laughter that unexpectedly returns when an old memory surfaces, and the pieces of themselves they leave behind.

Chris played the hand life dealt him with a spirit entirely his own.

His final turn came far too soon.

But for everyone who loved him, and for every life he touched along the way, The Prodigy's legacy remains on the battlefield.