Today I found out via a text message that a former boyfriend died suddenly Thursday night from an as yet unknown cause.

He was in his 50s.

Far too young to die.

Long ago, when we first met I was madly in love with him and imagined that we had a future together.

But it was a long distance relationship and he seemed more happy being single than being with me for the long haul so we parted ways.

I’ll never forget when (nearly a decade later) he added me as a friend on Facebook.

Bold, I thought.

But Steve was always bold and daring.

And smart as a whip!

We managed to meet up a few times and catch up on the latest and greatest in our lives.

He took me on a sailboat ride around the bay and we ran out of gas.

Literally.

Ironically, neither one of us knew how to sail properly at the time.

Despite that, I had a lovely day on the water with him.

I took pictures and blogged my trip, for which he suggested the title “Fucking Steve!”

I will remember him as the strong, invincible, highly intelligent man I knew him to be.

If I know Steve, he’s in Valhalla celebrating his eternal soul with a beer and pretty ladies while telling stories of his amazing life.