one month later

One month later. In some ways it feels like forever, and in some ways just yesterday. In some ways I’m missing Steve like crazy, and in so many ways it’s like it’s not even real that he is gone.

I have so much respect for Steve. He had such a large and well-rounded knowledge base. He had a sharp wit and an amazing memory. He is the one person I could have a two hour conversation on the definitions of Emo with, yet he could talk sports stats with the best of them, give me a lesson on the origins of the term ghetto, and why perhaps it was not my most politically correct choice of adjective, explain movies I didn’t get, and discuss Ayn Rand. He would never miss a reference or not get a joke. I am lucky enough to have been his partner in trivial pursuit, and unlucky enough to have played against him. I’m sure a lot of us have engaged in some sort of stump Steve drinking game, and we all inevitably lost.

I’ve struggled with what to say about Steve. He was so good with words, I know I will not do him justice, yet I feel like I should say something. It still isn’t even real, that Steve could really be gone. He’s the tie that binds, he kept us all together. Steve had a way with people. He was never fake, but always friendly. I think most of us would say that Steve was a really good friend of ours. I feel so blessed that he was a part of my life. Steve was one of the smartest people I’ve ever known, and one of the funniest. For some reason he seemed to see those things in me as well, and always made me feel appreciated. I think he did that for everyone. He always made sure everyone felt included, and could always make room at the table, even if it just meant offering his lap. I feel so lucky to have been a part of Steve’s life, and so much luckier that he was a part of mine.

It still seems so unfair and I still waiver between shock, anger, despair, numbness and disbelief. One thing that helps to give me comfort is believing that Steve was happy. He made the most of the time he had here. Steve was always up for hanging out and never went home early.

I am so thankful to have so many happy memories of Steve. As most of you know, we went to prom together. That’s usually how Steve introduced me to people, as the prom date. I didn’t know Steve all that well before prom, but I’m so thankful we got closer after that, and stayed in touch. Steve and I spent most of our sophomore year of college emailing movie quotes back and forth. Steve got me, and appreciated me in a way no one else really ever has. I think it was that way for a lot of us. It’s amazing to think of all the people I never would have met were it not for Steve.

Steve was a great man, devoted friend, and a wonderful story teller. You knew you’d never have to worry about coming up with conversation topics hanging out with Steve, and he had a story for everything. Often times one you had heard before, but those were the classics. Complete with dramatic pauses and unforgettable lines. It doesn’t seem real that I’ll never hear one of those stories again, that unmistakable voice, the way he’d adjust his glasses in between thoughts. That I will never again see him give me those puppy dog eyes trying to guilt me in to something.

I’m sorry I can’t seem to come up with the right words to say Steve, but I had to say something, to try to honor you in some way. You had so much wisdom to offer, so much love to share. I feel like everything should be different, like anyone who looks at me should be able to tell I’m changed and that the world will never be the same, and yet everything around me seems to keep going and I just want to scream, that the whole world should have stopped because our whole world stopped that day. I miss you so much Steve, but will try everyday to carry with me what you represented. Anytime anyone tried to tell Steve what a good guy he was he’d turn it in to a joke, and hey, Steve was pretty funny, so could usually make it a good one. I wish we could have spent more time together, I wish I would have asked him more questions, and listened to more stories, and bought him more drinks.

I guess you’ll just have to live on in all of our hearts, because we’ll all miss you so much Steve, and we’ll all still tell your stories, and we’ll all be there at the corner table wishing you were still with us and hoping you’re in a better place.