This One’s For Stevie

Earlier this month, I got the news that one of my closest friends of eighteen years, Stevie, passed away. The most unreal thing I have ever felt. This was the first human death where I immediately started crying. I was just getting off my lunch break when I got the news, to which I then messaged work saying I needed the rest of the afternoon off. This was the first time I ever stopped my day for a death. Every other death, I continued life as “normal.” Though I’m sure some of that was partially because I had time to process what was going to happen, I also refused to let myself feel it. I felt like I was weak and overreacting.

Even with Stevie, I found myself thinking a few days later, I’ve been sad for too long. I need to be okay and move on. This is my first death where I am in a place where I can grieve the “right way.” Though there is no right way to grieve. My body was feeling it, and letting myself feel it was something I’d never done. My mom, I was so shut down I couldn’t feel anything, let alone the grief, while being ten to add to it all. To this day, I’ve never cried about my dad. I cried when it looked like my aunt was going to die, but the day she died, I was “normal.” I cried with my dogs, but I also stuffed so much of their deaths inside of me.

Stevie was my first and only friend for the longest time after I moved to the Midwest. He was the first person I ever let in and told about my mom. He was the only person who ever came over to my house. For the longest time, his house (well, his grandparents’ house) was the only one I got invited to and went over to. I spent days in the pool. I got invited to family gatherings. We played all kinds of games. His sister reminded me at the funeral about the times we would play on our Nintendo DS, sending random notes to each other. A memory I hadn’t remembered for years. There are videos somewhere on the internet of us singing duets and everything musical. The list could go on.

Stevie was the only reason I felt loved or seen for the longest time. The one by my side through every death I went through. Except this one. Every time I think about that long enough, I start crying. The one I’ve gone to most of my life isn’t here to help me get through this. Almost daily, something reminds me of that. The fact that I can’t send a text to him to talk about it. I am an incredibly emotional person and feel everything so intensely; something not everyone understands. Stevie did.

We celebrated Stevie’s life on Monday. It was the first time I had seen his mom, probably since 8th grade. I had gotten to the viewing shortly after someone from our original friend group. This was the first time I had seen them since I had transferred high schools. When Stevie’s mom saw me, she said, “Oh, you kids.” Though I didn’t cry in that moment, you could bet I almost did (and did later on, making this the first funeral I’ve ever cried at). Seeing her in general made me feel so many things. I could not express the love I have for that woman and the strength she has. She is one of my heroes for sure.

I knew going into the funeral, I was about to see people I hadn’t seen since middle school, high school, and college. If it wasn’t for the circumstance, you’d think it was a huge reunion. It was another reminder of how much life overlaps. Stevie connected so many different groups of people. If that doesn’t describe the person he was, I don’t know what does. Stevie was light and love even through some of the darkest moments. I’ve never laughed more than I did with Stevie. I’d get in the kind of goofy mood where you’d think both of us were on something. The one and only YouTube video I posted (and kept posted) was from our trip to see Jennifer Lopez in concert. Most of the video is us in that goofy mood.

Here’s the link for anyone who may want to see it: https://youtu.be/BfWVCh0AURE?si=DYuvi2sG2vB3lIE3. (I already apologize for my gum chomping.)

Looking back at this time is another reminder of how loved I was by him. If you’ve been around long enough, you know I’ve had speech issues and gone to speech therapy as a child. Even at the time of the video, I had trouble talking at times, which I notice in this video. Stevie treated me no differently and loved me so well.

Like I said earlier, his funeral was proof of how far his love had reached. It was so full that people were standing. The number of people who knew him and then met each other from different parts of their lives. A lot of the people I knew and came across during college came across him, such as during his camp days. A part of his life I had no part of. After the service, we were invited to a meal at a local American Legion if we chose to do so. It was mainly family and then some friends. I decided to go, and I ended up sitting at a table where most of them were from the camp days.

Stevie’s mom later sat down next to me while making her rounds to people. I just held her hand, and it was as if I were twelve again. It will be a moment I’ll hold dear for the rest of my life.

As things died down at the legion, the group at the table went to the campgrounds where so many memories of Stevie were. Despite them being in the little town I grew up in, this was my first time visiting. There are cabins that different families have, and that’s where we landed and talked some more. Eight of us in a tiny cabin. Stevie’s roommate was with us. This was the first time I got the pleasure of meeting him. He and Stevie have similar mannerisms, where there were moments throughout Monday that it was as if Stevie were there. I’m grateful to have had this moment to get to know someone Stevie loved so deeply. Honestly, to get to know the entire group. Some I had only known of, and some I had just met for the first time. It was the first time in a very long time I had felt truly at peace in the moment. Nothing else mattered.

As sad and heartbroken as I am to be in a world without Stevie, how amazing it is to witness the impact he made on this Earth. Even just our little cabin group being together because of him and only him. He may no longer be with us, but he is in us. Our lives have been forever changed and impacted because of him.

One of the biggest things I’ve gotten out of it all is to love and love hard. Make the plans. Reach out to people and tell them how you feel. Do the things. Even though I know I did my best, he understood better than most about mental health struggles. There are moments, especially in the last year, that make me sad that I didn’t spend time with him because of my depressive episodes, and now I won’t get the chance. I also know he wouldn’t want me to dwell on what I can’t change.

Stevie, I will love harder and shine brighter because of you.

I’ll love you forever ❤️