Meeting with Steve

There are sometimes moments in my life that I want to hold on to. Sometimes, I hold on to them because they scare me. Other times, I hold on to them because they were very important times. I have also chosen to dwell on some that just make me smile or laugh. I think that each of these emotions and moments are equally important. This one I hold on to for a number of reasons, not the least of which is because it hurts to move away from what I am remembering.

I sat with Steve today for a few hours, talking to him at his house. I have met with him many prior times and talked about many similar things. We talked about my moving to New York, about my track to be a professor, about mutual friends, and about the state of things. We talked, just the two of us, for a long while until it was becoming hard for him to breathe. And so the realities of our situation decided for both of us that, for tonight, we should end our conversation. The difference was that this time, both of us were wondering when we would sit down together again.

On the drive to Steve's, which takes about 40 minutes, I was thinking about what I would say when we got to this part of the conversation. I did not want to highlight anything that would make him feel down. But I also did not want to miss the chance to say some things that were important to me. We both said those things. We decided a good way to keep in touch would be for me to send back some footage I shot around New York since he missed seeing the city, and I mentioned that I hope to fly back for the triathlon next year. He told me to be safe and wished me luck; I told him I would see him next time. Those were our closing words as I stepped out of the door.

Walking to the car, the clouds overhead thundered. I drove home thinking about the change that had just occurred and vowing to stay in touch. On the radio, Natalie Walker was ironically singing that "this is not the end," and though in a very different place than that song, I agreed. It rained as I finished heading home.

There was no happy way I knew to make this transition. But it was one that had to be made, and I understand that. The shape that our friendship takes will depend on how we both craft it. What it will become will not be the same as what it was before, but that does not mean it will be any worse or less valuable. The change still hurts.

When Steve and I talked, we remarked that the things that change our lives the most are usually the things that we cannot see coming. And so I decided to share this moment. Because neither you nor I can say whether I will have the chance to do so tomorrow.