On April 28, 1992, Geraldine (or maybe it was Connie!) brought a birthday cake to Steve R in his hospital room. As best I recall, it was an ice cream cake. Steve was recovering from a surgical procedure. He was also dealing with painful opportunistic infections related to AIDS. He’d spent much more time in the hospital than out of it for several months.
I was Steve’s caregiver. His advocate. I had his durable medical power of attorney. If you’ve never done these things for someone, I can tell you they often require countless daily decisions, from the mundane to the profound. Sometimes you make those decisions quickly. Often, late at night, you second-guess yourself. But always, with Steve, I tried to be sure every choice I made honored his wishes and respected his dignity and his privacy.
That day in the hospital, a room full of people gathered to celebrate Steve’s birthday with him. I kept a close watch on him, because as much as he appreciated all of his visitors, sometimes he could become overwhelmed. He exerted himself a little longer than usual that afternoon and evening. He understood that over the following days, everyone who loved him was about to get devastating news that only Geraldine and I knew. He’d decided to stop all treatments except those necessary for comfort.
Less than two months later, Steve died–in a different hospital room–with Geraldine and me on either side of him. That was nearly fifteen years ago, which would seem unbelievable to me except that I can remember so vividly my emotional journey from then to now. Tears for Steve are rare these days (the second I wrote that, tears started streaming down my face–but that’s okay, it made me laugh). Instead, I constantly try to find ways to celebrate the person he was. The friendships he treasured. The boundless kindness and gratitude he felt toward his family, every single one of whom–and it’s a large family–loved their son, brother, and uncle. I never knew anyone who didn’t adore Steve. He was just one of those people.
As I’ve mentioned before, every year since he died, there’s always a cake on April 28. One year, I didn’t have time to bake, so I got it from a bakery. Another year, Lynne stepped in and baked and decorated the cake when I was unable to do it. That’s only one example of the way that friends–many of whom never met Steve–honor him, too.
I can’t remember every cake from every year, or who ate them with us, although I have photos from most years to help jar my memory. The cakes are always chocolate (Steve’s favorite). They usually have a Winnie the Pooh theme (something private between Steve and me). I think there’s probably only been one time that Tom and I were alone on Steve’s birthday. Somehow it always works out that there are friends with us on that date.
This year, even though Lindsey and Rhonda didn’t eat cake, they did come by The Compound on Saturday (the 28th) with Sugar. Tom, Tim, the Compound Canines, and I were here, of course. (Lazlo prefers to mark the occasion privately.) My sister was here–her first Steve cake! And Cousin Ron had a layover of several hours on a flight from Atlanta to his home. I Ron-napped him from the airport, took him to Baba Yega Restaurant where he bought me lunch (Thanks!!), then brought him back to The Compound. [Of course, he had to sign a non-disclosure agreement and be blindfolded on the drive here, but chocolate cake was his reward. He was okay with that. 😉 ]
I can’t think of any way I’d rather celebrate Steve’s life–and the gift he remains to my life–than to be with people I love on his birthday. I’m never ashamed to admit that the most important relationships in my life are my friendships. I happen to be fortunate in that many people I’m related to by birth or marriage are also my friends–and by extension, Steve’s friends. He would totally share his cake with all of our friends, as long as he got the biggest, chocolatiest piece.
Of course, since he’s not here, that piece goes to Tim. Seems fair to me.
I added a couple of tears to your message, too. You’re a good friend, Becky C. — the best.
Thank you, Rob.
That way of honoring your friend is so beautiful. What a wonderful idea. It actually tells me a lot about the beauty that is Becky as well.
Cake for Steve! Cake for All! Wonderful!
You and I are equally blessed in the friends who populate our lives…one of many reasons why I love reading your LiveJournal. =)
What an amazing tribute to your friend. It really is no wonder why the practice of ancestor veneration bears so much significance in so many global cultures 🙂
Thank you, Amanda. You’ve set me on a train of thought this morning–I have no idea where it’s going, but I’m liking the trip so far.
What a beautiful story, Becky. And an amazing tribute. I’m sitting here bawling. You’re soooo damn cool, Becky!!!
Thank you!
Aww…
*Sniff*
I was just thinking what age you were in 1992. It’s crazy! Back then, I could never have imagined all the great things that were yet to be. It’s crazy AND wonderful. =)
Hah. I was 9. That is crazy! And you are wonderful.
<3
Wow. Powerful words from a true friend.
Thanks, Shannon. =)
Wow. I don’t have the gift with words like you do to get out my thoughts on this wonderful post.
Thank you.
I’ve been trying to figure out ways to get words around the years 1990 to 1997 for years, and I can’t do them justice. It’s very frustrating, and I don’t feel so gifted then.
The first thing that came to mind when I read this was that, in addition to everything else you gave him, in this way you’re also giving him a bit of immortality. That is beautiful.
Jeffrey R.
Thank you, Jeffrey. (Or as I like to call you, Mr. Vice President.)
I shouldn’t have read this at work, I am very watery. How did I get so lucky to have a friend like you?
You are doing a great thing by letting Steve’s love for people extend and live on thru you.
I wish I could have been there for the cake. Chocolate is my fave too. And I find it hard to cry when I am eating chocolate.
Thank you, Gene. =)
The next time you offer cake to me, I’ll say “yes.” Even a small piece, in honor of someone who meant so much to you (and to whom you meant so much), shouldn’t make my hips explode.
You were here. That’s better than chocolate. Seriously!
We love you guys and love that you let us bring our kid too. Next time, though, I’ll ask if it’s a cake, or a Cake. 😉
That is a very nice tradition. However…was I at The Compound? I don’t remember ever leaving the airport…
oops…the above message from me, btw.
That is correct. You never left the airport. You never saw The Compound. You are getting sleeeeeeeepy….
I just remember sitting at the airport for 8 hours, quietly reading my bible like I always do. Except I keep having this flashback about “flinging sperm”?
Did you take that photo of Steve R.? What’s he doing, in it?
Thank you for this entry, Becky. I just thought of something to do for you, to thank you. Be back later. : )
That photo was taken when he was in Spain with the marching band he helped direct (he was in graduate school at the time). There, he’s on a ladder watching his students do whatever band thing they were doing. I don’t have many photos of Steve, and he hated all the ones I took (those were not his best times), so I don’t publish them.
Funny you should mention that though. I know that the reason I take SO MANY photos now, and the reason my friends tolerate it, is because I regret the pictures I don’t have anywhere except inside my head.
And you never have to do anything to thank me–like all my friends, Steve gave me a zillion times more than I gave him. I am the luckiest person on the planet to know the people I know.
Ditto.
Same here. Lucky as hell.
the world needs more people like you.
I say the same thing about you. =) It’s why I’ve borrowed your name!
Beautiful.
Thank you.