August 16, 2004

// October 1st, 2010 // Uncategorized

August 16, 2004
Today I cleaned out my day planner for the first time in at least six years. Tucked into one of the side pockets along with a newspaper picture of Karla Faye Tucker I keep for inspiration, three medical appointment reminder cards from 1998, and a sheet of stickers, I found a picture of Steve.
I remember the night it was taken, but I can’t remember how old he was at the time. He could have been 16 or 18, I just don’t know. It was a cold night and Steve needed a jacket because he was going out with some friends. The only thing I could find for him was an old jacket that had belonged to one of my uncles many years before. Needless to say, it was not a fashionable jacket for a young man to be seen in. But Steve had a little fun with it and slipped into the jacket, put on a pair of sun glasses cock-eyed, and turned the brim of his cap sideways.
In this snapshot he looks (besides dorky) so healthy—good skin color, no big sores or blemishes on his face, a wisp of blond hair escaping from the cap—just a healthy young man.
So often when my eyes fall on one of the many pictures of him we have around the house I glance away quickly to avoid the pain. Especially the ones Morgan took about a year before Steve died. We are sitting outside on the swing that Steve and Robyn put together. In these he is already starting to look frail.
 

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Although he is smiling and enjoying the day, he seems to be holding himself slightly away from his brother and sisters, like he is inching away. I wonder ~ when did he start to feel that he was on his way out?
But I like this picture I just found. It’s a picture of the real Steve. It makes me smile.

 

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