It was kind of expected - a somewhat long time coming. He was fighting a losing battle with that pesky cancer foe for awhile. A long enough time that everyone who loved him dearly (so, everyone in this entire world, I think) had time to come to terms with this and could spend as much time with him as possible while he was still alive.
And yet, when my mom told me the sad, though expected, news of Steve's death Friday afternoon, I kept going back to the thought, "I didn't get enough time with him."
And I don't mean it in the way it sounds. Perhaps I didn't get enough time with him in my life - he was in Utah while I grew up in Wisconsin, more than a handful of states away from each other. But I got to see him when he came to visit in the Summers for his work. I saw him when I'd come down to Utah from college in Idaho, he always came by when I was in town. I saw him a lot when I lived in Utah for a year and a half after college. Heck, I worked for him during that whole time! I got a lot of time with Uncle Steve, when it comes down to it. Not as much as some people, sure, but still, I did get a lot of time with him.
So I don't mean it like I feel cheated of time with him or anything selfish. I feel like I didn't get enough time with him because Steve was one of those people whom everyone wishes they could be with more. You could spend an entire week hanging out with him, and when you leave at the end of the week, you slowly shuffle away, thinking, "Man, I wish this week wasn't over, I just want to hang out with that guy more!"
I feel like I can be a little indulgent in this post, because I know most of my consistent readers here are family members, so they'll appreciate the stories. Not that I have a ton - like I said, I was unlucky enough to grow up further away from him than some of my other, luckier relatives. But Steve should be celebrated, so I'm going to celebrate him quickly, if you don't mind.
The first memory of Steve that always pops into my mind is when he came out to stay with us for a week one Summer, for an annual work meeting - he brought his son Jake out, and they motorcycled it all the way from Utah to Wisconsin, and Steve spent the rest of
Another memory is of when he brought our family along with his to spend a week in a houseboat on Lake Powell. My memories associated with that trip are of a lot of things (Crazy 8s, anyone?), but Steve made those memories happen. He helped me have such a fun vacation that year.
My oldest brother's kids called him "Rockin' Uncle Steve" because he always thought of something super fun to do with them when they came to town to visit my parents, after mom and dad had moved to Utah. Like going horseback riding! Or something equally exciting and unexpected. He treated his grand-nieces and -nephews like his own children's kids, taking them on outings and wanting them to have as much fun as possible when they were with him. He really made a name for himself with the little ones, just like he had years before with us.
I think I can sincerely say that Steve was the most generous and caring person I know. Gosh, he was so giving. He gave of his time, his belongings, his friendship. He was a networker in the best way I've ever known. Sometimes, living in DC makes me cynical, because people will introduce themselves to me and I can just feel that they're trying to find some connection that they can use me for. They want to meet people so they can do something - people become things or stepping stones quickly out here. Steve was not that way at all. He liked to meet people so he could sincerely connect with them. He found mutual friends with everyone he met, and was always quick to share a fun story or a quick compliment of that mutual friend. And then he'd go to the mutual friend later, and finish the triangle, mentioning the person he met, and what a great guy that person was. He liked people as people, rather than as means to a new end, and I've admired that quality more and more as I've aged and matured. He taught me to love the person, and to serve them in their needs, instead of looking for ways they can serve my purposes.
World, there are a lot of things I could continue to say to honor my uncle, but perhaps I'll end with this - I think the thing I'll miss most about Steve was his stories. The man knew how to tell a story. I think it was a family gift, because a lot of dad's siblings (Steve's was dad's oldest sibling, the one just before himself in age) are great story tellers. And I loved when they got together and told stories of their youth, or of an outing they had recently. Or of anything. Some of my fondest memories from family trips to Utah come from sitting in Grandpa and Grandma Barlow's home, listening to Steve and Dad and perhaps another brother or sister tell stories of something that happened, recently or long ago. Steve was hilarious. I loved that about him. He always made me smile. I loved working with him - he was only working part-time when I came onboard, but I loved the days when he came in. He made the day brighter.
And that's probably the best way I can explain this great man. He just made the day brighter. And not just because of his brilliantly white-blonde hair, either :). I think his smile was made out of sunshine - he truly beamed. And I'm glad I got to enjoy that light from him as much as I did.
But man, I'll always wish I could get more time with him.
Note: a beautiful obituary was written here. God be with you 'til we meet again, Rockin' Uncle Steve.
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