Introduction

Steve once told me, "The candle burning twice as bright, burns half as long"

I never expected he would hold true to that prophecy.  He seemed too perfect to ever be gone.  Stainless Steve was the measure of my own mortality, the eternal man of limitless resources and strength who would always be there long after I departed.

     When I was about 12, I found myself foolishly following Steve up Mount Baden-Powell in the San Gabriel Mountains.  That day, I had my first tutorial in Steve's world of Agony and Ecstasy. There certainly was a lot of Agony trying to keep up with his fit 20 year old self virtually running up the mountain.  Then fear as he disappeared ahead of me and the panic of feeling young, alone, and lost, then sudden Ecstasy rounding a corner and seeing him waiting for me.  That, of course, was followed by another round of Agony as he flashed a smile and immediately started running up the trail again whilst my burning legs and lungs screamed "NOOooooo!!". That damn angelic smile!  But it was enough to keep me going, chasing after that mountain sprite who was also my hero.

      Of course it ended in the complete and restful ecstasy of the top, sitting by an ancient bristlecone pine gazing over the unfortunately smoggy San Gabriel valley, eating lunch and talking about books and movies.  As an eager adolescent, I always hungered to hear of Steve's stories, exploits, and general knowledge of the world.  He was such a real and natural teacher.  Even by the age of 20 he had done so many incredible things compared to anyone else I knew of.

     "Thanks for taking me.  I know I complained a lot, but its amazing to be up here."

     "Indeed" His laconic favoured response of those years.

      After some silence I ventured again,

     "Hey, what happens when we get old.  Think we'll be able to keep doing all this stuff?"

     "Old, hmm.  We'll find out if we get there. The candle burning twice as bright, burns half as long!"

      Again he flashed the angelic smile, "Let's go. There's a good burrito near Cal State San Bernadino."

     55x2=110 years.  Yes, that seems about a proper span for Steve if you took away that wild candle fire that burned underneath, warming his spirit with the stainless glow.  I guess I am at peace knowing he never had a goal to live long, but only to live well.

     Still, I miss him terribly, especially since we barely spent any time together since 2003.  Our lives went radically different directions then, but underneath there was always the expectation that there would be a reconnection phase, an open time like our youth when all the wealth of the distant years would be shared.  He just finished building a beautiful house with Lisa.  And here I am with my wife on the other side of the world, building a nice mountain home.  How we looked forward to sharing it with him! That he would show my little children the Agony and Ecstasy of the Himalayas and the Rockies by turn.

But life had other plans.

The Great Silence has its mysteries, and I doubt anyone would have Steve be a gram different than what he was.

He was a pillar of my life.  Thinking it gone, I am ready to collapse.  

But since there is no collapse, I tend to think that the pillar is still there, just invisible to these eyes.