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.
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.