Then, earlier this year, I was lurking on one message board and saw a discussion between Steve and a few other people about actor Jarrod Ross, who was the original Phillip Spaulding on Guiding Light. I wasn't a member of the subscription-based message board, so I couldn't contribute to the discussion. But then I spotted Steve's name one day on Facebook and sent a message to let him know that, to my knowledge, Jarrod had been killed in a car accident sometime in the late 1980s (he lived in Milltown, NJ, the town next to my hometown, East Brunswick). That message to Steve was the start of a rich and wonderful friendship.
Steve quickly befriended me on Facebook and we started chatting about all kinds of things: soaps, life, men, sex. You name it, we discussed it. We shared laughs. We shared our lives. I told Steve about my life with my husband Eric and he told me about the man who shared his life and his heart, Gil. I shared with him about my battle with melanoma back in 2003. And Steve shared with me his heart disease. He comforted me when my cat Mulder passed in September. I encouraged him as he battled fatigue and sleepless nights. I laughed at his jokes. I treasured the photographs he posted on Facebook: pictures of sexy men and photos that he found funny. He sent me risque videos. I shared with him photos of a very sexy model named Gilmar Rodrigues, which he quickly posted on Facebook. We talked about Guiding Light and other soaps. We dished the best and worst of the Internet. I treasured all the wonderful photos of Guiding Light that he posted in the days before and after the venerable soap opera ended.
I shared with Steve my concerns about my health. A mass had been detected in my groin, I had a hernia, and also had swollen lymph nodes. There was concern that my melanoma had returned and spread. I was scared. And Steve offered hope, inspiring me. I had surgery in early October and every few days Steve would check in on me, to make sure I was doing OK. I was so touched by his concern, especially since he wasn't feeling very well. Together, we rejoiced that all was OK. My melanoma hadn't returned.
Then, I think it was a Saturday, I opened my email to find a message from Steve's partner Gil, sharing the news that Steve had suffered a major stroke. I was shaken. I posted the news on Steve's Facebook page and on Soap Opera Network and Danfling's Message Board, two sites that Steve frequented. Within minutes, messages of support and encouragement began to pour in. I shared many of the messages with Gil. Gil shared these and many others with Steve, offering encouragement to the man who befriended so many of us.
A week passed and then came another email from Gil. Steve had been doing well for a few days but then developed pneumonia and started building up fluid. I again shared the news with his friends. We all hoped and prayed for the best.
Then, yesterday afternoon, I came back from lunch, opened my Comcast email, and there was the message from Gil:
Steve was gone.
In his email, Gil shared a message that Steve had given him about a month ago, a message that Steve wanted to pass along to all of his friends, about how much he appreciated our friendship and how we touched his life. But, Steve, my friend, you touched our lives too in every way...ways you never knew. As evidenced by all the posts I've seen on the Internet the past day, you touched many lives, many hearts. Your life changed people's lives. You, my friend, changed the world.
Though we never met in person, never spoke on the phone, Steve was a friend in every sense of the word. He touched my heart in immeasurable ways and I richly value the past few months that I got to know him. I'll miss him and I will forever treasure him. And I will take to heart the poems that he shared with Gil, words he wanted all of his friends to consider:
Remember me with smiles,
Because your smiles helped get me through.
They gave me peace and comfort,
And hope to hold on to.
Remember me with laughter,
It was precious for me to hear.
It took away the pain I suffered,
It took away my fear.
Remember me with smiles and laughter,
For that's the way I'll remember you all.
If you can only remember me with tears,
Then don't remember me at all.
Because your smiles helped get me through.
They gave me peace and comfort,
And hope to hold on to.
Remember me with laughter,
It was precious for me to hear.
It took away the pain I suffered,
It took away my fear.
Remember me with smiles and laughter,
For that's the way I'll remember you all.
If you can only remember me with tears,
Then don't remember me at all.
