Goodbye, Steven

Steven was one of four sons.  A military family.   Navy men.  Their parents grew them tough from what I was told.  After twenty years at sea, Steven was done.  He retired with a $400 something monthly pension.  Yes, for a lifetime at sea.  Protecting our waters.  Protecting our country.  He never asked for much.  A simple life.

He had a rough time with both of his marriages.  They ended in divorce.  Women were always challenging for him.  He didn't seem to understand them.  Despite his strapping six foot, body builder frame, women walked all over him.  I think he allowed that.  Even the last one who took up residence in his trailer home in the mountains.  He just couldn't say 'no.'  I guess he didn't want too.

I met Steven through a joint female friend.  An owner of a cafe in town.  He struck me as unhappy, competent, conservative and clearly had serious issues with women.  Especially confident ones.

He often flirted with me.  I didn't much like that and never saw us together.  Still, over the years he came into my life.  The second time was when he was working on a house above me.  He saw that I lived below and dropped his card by.  Another time we passed on the road.  A few times he ventured by and helped with some projects.  Never once did he ask to be paid.  I took him to coffee once.  Clearly, he was nervous.  His left leg kept tapping the floor.

When I moved to NH he came over with truck in tow to help.  We exchanged e-mails a few times and he dropped by to check on my vacant home.

I do better with warm and fuzzy folks.  Hard people have always been a challenge.  Maybe it is the sensitive Scorpion in me. My own sense of discomfort.

A phone call yesterday, late in the afternoon from a friend who moved away opened my eyes a little more. 

"Steven passed.  Did you know?"

"What?  No, I didn't.  I just sent him an e-mail February 22, asking if he wanted to do some work around my house.  He didn't reply, but he is always having issues with his e-mail, getting hacked and all."

"Steven was found dead in his chair at home."

What is a life?  There was no obituary in our local newspapers.  His family took him back to Virginia Beach, Virginia.  I don't know anything other than that. He was fifty-five. I do know I am not ready to lose any more friends.  A dozen over the past eighteen months is more than I can bare. 

Goodbye, Steven.  Thanks for all you did making your community a better place.  Rest in peace.