During the week after Steve died I heard many friends tell me stories of how Steve's friendship enriched and shaped their lives. I asked our friend Josh Westerhold to write what he told me.....
and here it is:
Hey Melanie,
I know I told you I'd write all of this down and send it to you but i keep trying to and keep coming up short. Here's one more try.
The day Steve died you asked me to come up and see him in y'alls room and be the representative of a group of guys that Steve meant so much to. Part of me really didn't want to go. I haven't really been around lifeless bodies before and the idea of seeing Steve this way frightened me. But another part of me felt compelled. Like it was the right thing to do at that time.
As we sat up in the room and I watched your friend cry for Steve and I watched you tenderly shut his eyes i was moved by the weight of that moment. I knew there was something special about being there. That somehow there was beauty in the midst of our sorrow.
When Steve first told us that he was sick I was distraught but I didn't do any research about pancreatic cancer. I just heard cancer and thought "shit, that's bad, but Steve's young and healthy he'll probably be alright." although I shed a lot of tears that week I think I kept the idea of death in the distant parts of my thoughts. bBt then that first Saturday night on the porch I saw how the cancer had already started to effect Steve and drain him. We went to On Tap after that and I started to hear from Clint and Brian about the research they had done. I heard just how bad this could be. That was the first time that I really let death in and I hated it. I don't understand death and it kinda scares the shit out of me.
The next day Abby and I came over and had some individual time with you and Steve and as we were driving home we started talking about the possibility of losing Steve. The prospect was so unfair. Wrong for so many reasons. As we talked I was struck by how much I watched Steve for clues on how to live. How to be a good neighbor. How to love his wife. How to be a father. Steve was the closest I've ever had to a real role model and I had taken for granted that there would be plenty more moments to talk and to sit and to watch him. To steal the smallest pieces of wisdom and love from him so that I could be a better man, a better husband, and one day a better father. Depressed at the thought of losing Steve's example I started to realize that the man I so admired would likely give one more example to follow.
I think we've lost the ability to deal with death and with it the ability to die well. With miraculous medicines and technology we've been taught to fight back against death and to run from it, but unfortunately death will always come. Dealing with this final chapter well seems to have been lost. I envy the stories of cultures that understood the certainty of death and approached it with honor. Stories of brave men who died with conviction and honor in pursuit of glory in battle seem a bit trite now though. But somehow I knew that the same man that showed us how to live in love would teach us how to die honorably in love as well. For a tragically short period Steve fought like hell but he also began pulling people close. He spent time with those he loved. He left no doubt about his feelings or desire for his wife. He honored his children. He invited the broken hearted and the wanderers that he surrounded himself in life to take part and to find comfort in each other in his home. He stood up for what he believed even until the end.
Tonight we spent more time on your porch. Steve's been gone a couple weeks now but somehow we keep wandering back to this safe and loving place where Steve taught us how to live and now how to die. I never wanted to learn this lesson from Steve but I think it's worth knowing. I'm not sure where we go from here. I'm not sure what it all means. I don't know if I believe in god or Jesus. But I believe in Steve Malone. And I love him for everything he taught me.