There’s gotta be a better word than bereavement...

What a dreadful word.  It sounds so heavy, so awkward on the tongue...so foreboding, so archaic, so funeral parlorish.

Funeral parlor: another horrid word.  Doesn’t every establishment of this type look the same? You walk in... subdued very sectarian music softly spills out through hidden speakers.  The scent of carnations fill your nostrils as your feet sink into plush white carpet, leaving signs of your footprints each time you take a step. The lighting, oddly a florescent yellow, yet dangling crystal sconces line the walls sending small burst of “candlelight” effect on the walls.  Behind those sconces lies some muted shade-on-shade, slightly textured wallpaper, atop white paneled wainscoting.  Standing there to greet you in whispered tones that are barely audible, wearing an apologetic smile is some name tagged, suited stranger directing you to follow the signs with the “Bereaved Family Name" coupled  with the special name depicting the “Parlor’s Room.”  These letters are stuck into the grooved little black boards with plastic white letters that can easily pop right out to be replaced by the next family that will surely follow. Agh, bereavement!

We decided to forego the whole funeral home routine, and we simply had everyone come by our home the evening before Steve’s memorial service.  Steve's wish was to be cremated, with no big to do that would involve the funeral home services of any kind.  Bonnie and Ann were able to find a very professional funeral home that would cremate without all the extra "frills".  Bonnie had warned me that this facility was in a rather unseemly strip mall and encouraged me to have someone else pick up Steve's "cremains"  (funeral home's words, not mine).  I was insistent on picking them up myself, so my good friend, Cindy and I struck out about a week after the memorial to pick up Steve's ashes.  What should have been a very solemn encounter ended up causing both of us to laugh harder than was probably appropriate.

The funeral home was sandwiched between Goro's Sushi and Dad's Karaoke Bar, that alone was like something out of a Jerry Seinfeld episode.  You've all seen these dumpy strip malls…weeds peeping through the buckled concrete asphalt. Cinderblock walls, painted a sort of hospital pea green, with rusted metal awnings covering the walkways.  

Goro's windows were filled with chipped hand painted words meant to lure you in as your were driving past.  Dad's was even better, dark, tinted windows.  Red paint covering the bottom half of the windows, obscuring the view of car head lights, important for a karaoke establishment, as any lighting might potentially distract the "American Idol" happenings within.  

Leaving the store front funeral home, Cindy and I had to restrain ourselves from bursting into laughter.  As if the location hadn't been enough, we promptly ran straight into two women coming out of Goro's with to-go sushi boxes in tow.  Those poor women were trying as hard as they could to be respectful of our bereaved condition as they looked from one container to the next.  Yep, we each held a container (a long story for another time), but I'm sure these women were thinking, "Oh no, not only one loss, but two!"  These poor sushi-laden ladies went from laughing and chatting to deathly silent, their smiles quickly dissipated, their eyes dropped down to stare at their feet, as they hurriedly fumbled for the keys and made a bee-line to their car.  A pall settled over the parking lot. For some reason, this was just the last lick, the provocation that Cindy and I both needed.  We got in the car as fast as the would be sushi-eating women and burst out laughing.  Maybe you had to be there, but we still crack up today when we picture what we all four must have looked like with our arms full of Steve's remains shoulder-to-shoulder with the sushi to-go mortified ladies. We laugh even harder knowing Steve would have so enjoyed the moment, insisting we all join in for a round of drinks and karaoke at the bar next door.

So while we had a bit of a reprieve from what was traditionally expected of funeral-izing, we were unable to escape being the “bereaved family.”

I’m not sure there is any word to better describe “the profound absence of a loved one” (Webster’s).  Loss, sorrow, grief - they’re all pretty pitiful, yet a necessary process to walk through.

But, don’t stop reading, as this is not why I’m writing this blog today.  Instead, I thought I would write a list of the jumbled rambling thoughts I’ve had during this past year of bereavement.

The following are some of my pearls of wisdom, whether major or minor, they have helped me weather this past year.  Now these are very profound bits of advice so please grab your pencils and begin taking notes.

•  I do believe my brain was packed away sometime during Steve’s last days.  I still can’t find that boxed labeled “Janet’s Brain.”  I’m hoping it will turn up soon, but until then I’m simply relying on the goodness and charity of my family and friends to step in and pinch hit for me when necessary.
• No matter where you are or what you’re doing, never miss the chance to dance when you feel the music lift your feet.  Whether alone or with a group...just go for it.  It is so fun, so necessary.
• Never forget what it feels like to be knocked to the ground and smothered in the finest hugs and kisses of your grandchildren.  This is critical to feeling alive again.  If you don’t have grandchildren...grab a dog. 
• Speaking of dogs, never forget the overwhelming sheer joy that your dog exhibits when you walk in your door.  Tail wagging, jumping up for pats, hugs  and belly scratching, and lapping you right in the face with all the love that is encased in one furry body.  Learn from this example, and start greeting everyone you love with that same enthusiasm, it’s contagious.
• This is a biggie, never pass by a Marshall’s or TJ Max without going in, even if you only have a few minutes.  You will almost always find some treasure.  Never leave without walking through the children’s department.  You can fill your cart with the greatest of treasures...it’s the best!  This little exercise has saved me during many a low moment.
• If you have a clock that chimes, never forget to wind it.  Let those chimes fill your home. It’s so gratifying.
• The best way to clean a bathroom floor is on your hands and knees. Use an old wet towel with a little Pine-sol mixed in and go to town.  It releases all kinds of pent up mayhem going on inside your body, especially when you get to corners and grouted areas.  It’s just all kinds of good.
• On that same note, working in the yard is also a great way to spend this new what-do-I- with-myself time.  Take caution, use no ladders or power tools for the first year, I recommend planting, digging and weeding.  The frustration will simply seep from your pores, along with lots of Texas summer sweat.
• Never let sadness or sorrow stand in your way of trying something new, tasting something different or going some place you’ve never been.   I’ve been on more trips this past year than I have in the past five years.  Each trip has brought me new joy, adventure and the ability to feel like I am still able to live.
• Remember that Campho-Phenique cures everything! If it doesn’t fix what hurts,  just open the bottle, the smell will heal your soul.  (This is an old remedy of my grandmother, Minnie Mama's.  She used it to cure everything.)

• Never own anything that would make you sad if it was accidentally broken.  Simply enjoy it for the time you have it and once it’s gone...let it go. Unfortunately, this only works on tangible items.
• Never claim a pair of sunglasses or pair of earrings as your very favorite.  Inevitably you will lose them as soon as you think you could never live without them.  Especially when your mind is still packed away in some box...somewhere.
• Never pass up a chance to recognize a stranger’s kindness. Then do your best to pay it forward.  You will be the one to receive the blessing and it will take the focus off of being sad.
• Never miss the chance to cushion yourself with sweet friends when you know there is a rough road ahead. I was advised to do this during this past week and what a gift it was.  A group of dear and precious friends went with me to Port A for a few days.  While my emotions ebbed and flowed like the gulf tide, my friends were there.  They allowed me my space, they came to stand by my side and they enabled me to laugh, love and enjoy life.  Which brings me to my next epiphany.  
• No matter how brown the Texas Gulf may look, if you look out far enough, you will find blue water.  A good life lesson for every dark moment in life.  

  

  The best friends any one could ever have!  (Missing a few that couldn't make it, but you were there in spirit!)

• The final bit of wisdom I have to share with you is this: “Lean on Me” should be a hymn.  I have found that in order to survive this past year I have had to, needed to, lean not only on my friends and family but even more on a God that knows my every need before I do and He has proven faithful and constant at every turn of my life.

For what it’s worth,

Janet

Deuteronomy 33:12  “The Lord’s beloved rests safely next to him, protected all through the day, resting between His shoulders.”

P. S.  I don't know why there are so many font changes in this blog.  It seems to be growing a mind of it's own.

“How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.” ~A.A. Milne, Winnie-the-Pooh

Today marks one year since Steve left this earth.  While it has been one of the most difficult years of my life, I have found my faith is stronger than I ever thought possible.  I have become a person more capable than I ever imagined, whether I wanted to be or not.  The most important thing I have discovered, I know I will always have Steve with me wherever I am.   He made an imprint on my heart and on my life that will remain with me forever.

I wrote this Caring Bridge piece telling of Steve's last day here.  I continue to marvel at God's impeccable care of our smallest needs.

Steve, thank you for loving me as you did.  I will always love you and miss you every day of  my life… 

“How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.”~A.A. Milne, Winnie-the-Pooh

By Janet Boswell — Jul 16, 2013 9:58pm

It’s hard to believe I said goodbye to Steve just eight days ago. These days have been a blur, but because my faith is in a gracious God, along with the love and support of our incredible children, family and friends I have been able to feel God blanket me in a peace and comfort I never knew possible.

The last entry I wrote concerning Steve’s health was the morning before we said goodbye, for now. The Hospice doctor had visited Steve around 3 p.m. Monday and felt he was stable enough to dismiss the critical care nurses on Tuesday. Steve would now be bed bound, his speech--difficult, his breathing labored, life was dismissal. He knew it and I knew it and we were both frightened. I believe Steve, having all of his medical background knew far more of what he was facing than I knew and he grew silent. I paced, prayed and sat by his side. Bonnie remained with us throughout, oh how grateful I will forever be to my sweet sister for giving all of herself to us through this time.

Evening came, I took a requested baked potato and a glass of wine to Steve's bed tray and decided to take my dinner as well and eat with him. Steve and I have always loved our dinners together. We’d often find ourselves sitting for an up to an hour over a glass of wine after dinner, laughing about our past, our life together, our love affair with one another.

In mid-April Steve mentioned to me one night during one of these talks that he had set a goal. I curiously asked him what it was? He said, “I want to live until July 20th .” Puzzled why he had chosen that date, I asked, “Why the 20th ?” His soft response was, “Because then I will have known you for 20 years.” I told him that was a deal and I kissed him and made him promise to keep his goal.

Monday night, the 8th, it was becoming more difficult for him to see, he was so weak that I was having to spoon up his bites of food and help him hold the wine to his mouth, but he ate. While we were eating I started talking about our first date, my white puffy shirt, how nervous I was to even be having a date, I rattled on and on saying anything to try to quiet his ever increasing labored breathing. I have no doubt that at the end of my story God spoke to my heart, because the next thing I heard myself saying was, “Steve, you know what today is don’t you?” He looked at me with his sweet questioning eyes? I finished my sentence, “Today is July 20th.” “Really…?” he asked, I smiled and nodded.  He closed his eyes, smiled and nodded. He then held out his wine glass and simply said, “More.”  He had a piece of his favorite German chocolate cake, that our wonderful neighbor Casey had made for him. Closed his eyes and slept.

At 8:30 p.m. Brooke came by to give him a quick hug. Bon and I sat in the kitchen and we were brought to our feet when we heard Steve say so loud, so clearly, so Steve…”Well, hey!” Brooke gave him a hug, told him she loved him, he mumbled that he loved her as well, and he fell back asleep.

It wasn’t 30 minutes later that the Hospice nurse came in to say she felt Steve was getting worse and called for more equipment.  The nurse told me to go on to bed, she would call if anything happened that I needed to know.

I talked to him at 10 p.m. Telling him I loved him, that I would see him in the morning, the nurse would sit in the room with him...he nodded.

As Steve slept Bonnie and I came into the bedroom.  We sat in the dark on our bed, Steve was in a hospital bed next to us. We prayed silently but, but in unison.  I finally went up to bed around 10:30.

It wasn't twenty minutes later that Steve found himself cradled in the arms our loving Father, who welcomed him home saying, “Well done, my good and faithful servant.”

Oh, how blessed I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard. I love you dear Steve. May you rest in God’s arms until we meet again.

All my love,
Janet

John 14: 2-4 “In my Father’s house there are many dwelling places. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, so that where I am, there you may be also. And you know the way to the place where I am going.”

Looking back...

I wrote this Caring Bridge entry the day of Steve's death.  I hope that in reading my thoughts during this time when we were walking through the valley of the shadow of death  you might also see a glimpse of God's incredible grace.  Steve suffered only for a brief time and I will always thank God for his tender mercy.

I also pray that if any of you reading this are going through similar struggles you may gain hope, strength and courage in knowing you are never alone.

Much love,

Janet

1 Corinthians 13:12 "For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then we will see face to face. Now I know only inpart; then I will know fully, even as I have been fully known."

Living in a Bubble...

By Janet Boswell — Jul 8, 2013 12:47pm

The last 50+ hours have seemed surreal to us.  I’m not sure I can find the words to describe this period other than feeling like I’m living in a bubble. This bubble can’t seem to be penetrated.  I'm here alone, trying to make sense of all that’s going on around me, but the bubble’s walls are too thick.  People talk, but words aren’t seeping through the thick walls.  I speak and my voice is but as whisper as it echoes around me, making little recognition of what I’m trying to say.  The bubble’s air is becoming thick, stale and heavy, weighing me down with every move I make.

Let me back up to Wednesday.  Steve made the decision to have his defibrillator turned off.  What seemed like a critical and ominous task turned out to be quite simple and non-dramatic.  Steve’s pacemaker works constantly pacing his heart but fortunately the defibrillator was never activated.  Glad to have that fear behind us we were pleased to have Lynn come for a two night stay.

We had a great visit with her.  She was able to spend many hours just being with her dad, talking about her children’s summer activities, visiting about their love of shared history and past memories...simply spending time together.  When Steve was napping Lynn and I were able to have long talks that were filled with tears, pain and sorrow of what was to come, as well as the tugs at our heartstrings of what we had and have lost.  I love Lynn and David dearly and these past few years I find our relationships have grown and changed into a very different and special caring bond as we find the need to draw closer to one another.

Bonnie has also been so available and such a blessing to me.  She and Tom spend their summers in Colorado, but due to the fires there and Steve’s failing health Bon has made the difficult decision to stay in San Antonio for a while and spend much of her time with us.  I love that she spends her nights with us and has made this her second home before heading back to Colorado soon.

Friday morning Steve, Lynn, Bonnie and I were joined by Brooke and crew for a short visit.  Brooke’s visits with her children have been cut drastically back as the noise and commotion seem to jangle Steve.  We were all sitting there visiting and out of the blue Harper quietly came to me and asked to sit with Grandy.  Curling up under his arm, she placed her head on his chest and softly spoke in her 2 ¾ year old language of their love for one another.  Steve has a little ritual that started with Lynn and shared with Elena and then Harper that is so precious it melts your heart to watch.  As young babies Steve would cradle their heads against his chest and softly brush their face with his fingers, murmuring “Pretty little baby, eyes, pretty little baby cheeks, pretty little baby ears…” until their eyes would grow heavy and they would fall into a deep sleep.  I too have been blessed by those precious caressing hands.  So many times he has held my face and stroked it so gently whispering his love for me as I could feel myself grow calm and soothed in his arms.

This Friday morning, as Harper sat nestled in her Grandy’s arms he softly began to brush his fingers across her sweet face.  Words could no longer come from his mouth, but Harper needed no words.  Steve sat stroking Harper’s sweet face, never taking his eyes off of her.  Harper mesmerized by his knowing touch grew motionless as the room fell quiet.  I felt tears streaming down my face watching this moment, this gift from a child to her grandfather.  Looking up I found Bonnie touched by her brother’s tenderness as her tears fell. Turning to Lynn, eyes also full of tears as her memories drifted back to her childhood days spent in her father’s lap and then remembering Elena’s younger years of feeling her grandfather’s loving touch.  My eyes then turned to Brooke and Jared, oh the pain and sadness evident through their tears that welled in their eyes and splashed down their faces.    

This is what I call “A God Thing.”  It was a moment that will last each of us our whole lives through.   It was as if God placed a very special gift in our hands, his fingerprints so evident, his gift showing, enabling us again to comprehend the scope of  tenderness, compassion and love that Steve has for each of us. 

I don’t think we will ever know why Harper sensed or chose that moment to spend in such intimacy with her Grandy.  I don’t know if she sensed that he wasn’t well, that his time with her might be short...I don’t know, but I do know God enabled us to witness this gift and his timing was perfect.

Lynn left to go back to Austin and was an emotional mess.  I was thankful to get her call saying she had returned safely.  Bonnie left to live her life but asked if she wanted me to come back to spend the night again.  I hesitated, thinking there was no need, but then we both simply agreed that she would return.

Friday evening Bonnie came back for dinner and our sleep over. It turned out to be such a fun night with Steve.  He was able to recall and communicate many of the funny stories we had with the kids.  We laughed, he was relaxed and stayed up a little later than usual.  The evening health care worker came and went saying only that Steve had been a bit unsteady around 4 a.m.  I got up early, Steve continued to sleep and by 7:30 Bonnie offered to watch and wait for him to awaken.  

I always, ALWAYS take my cell phone with me when I walk but this morning, I left the house without it.  Coming home I found Bonnie holding Steve crosswise on the bed and knew we were in trouble again.  Another seizure and Steve was in need of immediate help.

Jared and Dennis came to help Steve. Hospice arrived and my “bubble” began to grow. They quickly placed Steve on Continual or Critical Care, meaning he had 24 hour around the clock nursing assistance.  This is Hospice at its best.  There has been a loving, professional, efficient stream of staff flow through our home since Saturday morning.  Steve’s condition seemed to worsen as he lay lifelessly in bed.  There was no communication and little movement from Steve.  My bubble became a vacuum, it’s wall so thick now Steve could no longer hear my voice, feel my touch, its walls were impenetrable.  I would sit by Steve’s bed, hold his hand, brush his face with my finger, talk to him...but there was little response.  All that was in my bubble were conflicting feelings. I was living my biggest fear and worse he was living it even more.  What did he know?  What was he thinking?  How terrifying was his bubble?

Sunday morning came and Steve began to show slight signs of improvement.  Sleeping most of the day and responding with nods or grunts, uncertainty hung heavy.  By 11 a.m. Steve asked for me.  He wanted a peanut butter and jelly sandwich!  What?!?!  Fresh air began to slowly flow back into my bubble, Steve might be bouncing back again.  By evening he was a little stronger and a little more verbal.  Bonnie stayed by our side again.

It’s now Monday afternoon.  Steve remains bed bound, sleeping most of the time, on oxygen, speaking little.  Though he can stand his brain is unable to tell his legs to move, his body is terribly weak, shaky, unstable.  The Hospice nurse just left.  She informed me that Continuous Care would most likely end tomorrow.  I will now hire full time 24 hour care for Steve as they feel he will most likely be in bed from now on.  My bubble quivers, they don’t know Steve.  He has broken all odds, he well may be up and moving again...who knows? 

So this is now our new normal.  For how long?  No one can say.  My bubble is still firmly in place, I wish I could tell you it had burst and I felt like I was among the living again, but that would be dishonest.

So I all I can do is go back to our gift, covered with God’s fingerprints.  I picture Steve sitting in the cradle of God’s loving, strong arms.  I close my eyes and see God’s fingers gently smoothing out the lines of Steve’s worried brow I can invision him trace the areas of my husband’s sweet face whispering gently to him, “Do not fear...I am with you always...my plans for you are for you good...my timing is perfect...you are in my hands...rest on my shoulders...I love you my good and faithful child.”  As I picture Steve I also then find myself and feel the gentle assuring arms of my loving God surround me and whisper, “Come to me all you who are weary and burdened and I will give you rest.” Malachi 4:2

I continue to ask for your prayers for Steve and for our family.

With all my love,

Janet

Esther 4:13  “Be still for a while and praise God for His favor, His grace and His awesomeness. God is able to do the impossible and is always near. He loves us unconditionally.”

Steve's other side...

Most people who knew Steve professionally or casually knew that he was highly intelligent, gracious to a fault, kind hearted, serious, conscientious of others, and a rule follower to the nth degree.  These people probably knew that Steve was the hardest of workers, that he honest to a fault and if you asked him to do something for you, you could be assured it would be done before day’s end. People were aware that Steve was a good golfer, as well as a good tennis player.  They may not have mentioned that he was absolutely sexy and completely adorable, but I know they surely thought it.  He was Steve!

There are always two sides to people.  Steve had his public side, but there was a private side that only family and very close friends knew of Steve.  It seems time to now share the other side of Steve.  Enjoy!

Steve had a thing about socks, white athletic socks.  Until the day he died he was insistent on always wearing them when he was just hanging around the house.  

For many years Steve’s favorite thing to do was the well-known, Tom Cruise move, you know the one in “Risky Business.”  Knowing I was in the back sitting room, watching television or on the computer, Steve would start in the kitchen and would run until the friction felt perfect for sliding the length of our long hardwood floor hallway.  He would land proudly in the little sitting room, arms straight out to his side, so proud of his land surfing abilities.  It was as if he had enacted some great gymnastic feat and was constantly waiting for me to hold up a card with the number 10 on it.  When I asked Brooke what came to mind when she thought of Steveisms, this action was at the top of her list.

Steve loved to laugh. He usually laughter hardest at his own sense of humor.  Steve often reminded me of Steve Martin or Chevy Chase, or maybe a combination of both.  He would come up with some quick, cleaver statement and it would come out of his mouth so unexpectedly.  Those in earshot would burst out laughing.  I would look at Steve and he would have this look on his face that only I could read.  The unsaid was, “Boy I nailed that one, perfecting timing, WooHoo!”  He would then begin laughing along with the rest of us…the harder he laughter, it became a high pitched belly giggle. He would throw his head back and laugh with his entire body, tears running down his face.  Nothing was ever funnier to either of us than Steve laughing at himself.

One of Steve's wonderful laughing moments

Treacherous and Precocious.  These were two of Steve’s favorite words and they were grossly over used in very dramatic ways.  Anything that was potentially, possibly, slightly dangerous was always “treacherous.”  We lived near a small pot-holed two-lane, dark road that Steve renamed “Ted Bundy Lane”.  Brooke, Lynn and I were forbidden from ever going down it because if we ever had a flat tire it would be treacherous on this road.

Precocious was a word Steve used when describing children, in particular, his grand children.  Instead of using the words, bright, smart, observant, curious, highly intelligent, Steve’s word was precocious.  Dylan would be reading some very adult book and Steve’s would say, “How precocious Dylan is!”  Elena would come up with some creative masterpiece, Steve’s response, “Elena is very precocious!” Harper knew all her letters before she was 2 and Steve response, “Now, that’s precocious!”  Harris smiled and held up his head early, Steve:  “You know that’s a sign of being very precocious.”

Every child was told they were "precocious"...

A creature of habit.  Steve ate lunch everyday exactly at 11:00 a.m., whether is was a peanut butter and jelly sandwich or standing at the front door of Chris Madrid’s with his hands cupped to the window waiting for the doors to open.  If it was 11:00, Steve was eating lunch.

Dinner was much the same.  Steve was never big on eating late.  Friends knew if they called after 6:15 p.m. to invite us to for dinner…too late, Steve had just finished.

Steve loved chocolate and he was never ashamed of hoarding it.  He could be found stashing chocolate chips cookies or chocolate cake from both me and our children and was very excited if his hiding spots were never found.

He could make the recipe on the back of a Toll House Chocolate Chip package, “start to finish in right at an hour!”(his words)  He would get a little perturbed at me when I would nibble at his dough.  

He loved telling the story about how he and Lynn and David would get in the kitchen to stir up a batch.  They would battle over whether the dough was made for eating or baking every time the cookies were in their final stage, right before oven time.  The fighting became so exhausting that Steve, rational in most situations, finally pulled out a kitchen scale and weighing the dough into thirds, insuring each of the three children then got their equal share of doing as they pleased with the dough. Lynn and David eating most of the raw dough and Steve baking all of his to a crisp...just the way he loved them.

Cinnamon Chocolate Cake.  Our all time favorite dessert.  Steve had a hand-copied recipe from an aunt and he made a really mean cake.  However, when I came along, I would never follow her directions…exactly (what’s new.)  Every single time we made that cake together, heated fighting would take place as Steve would argue that the process needed to be done in exactly the order written down.  I, on the other hand, was a little less compulsive…it’s a cake.  So I’d dump the ingredients in willy nilly and Steve would come unglued.  The debate level rose until I finally would walk out of the kitchen mumbling, “you just do it your way.”   Steve’s response, “I thought you’d never leave.”

A real pearl here; this is one great method to get to eat delicious cake without having to actually make one.

Cinnamon Chocolate Cake!

Franc the wedding planner.  Who would have ever thought Steve would be the wedding planner of Brooke’s dreams?  Brooke’s desires; keep it simple, fun and classy.  Steve’s dream, to have a daughter that wanted nothing to do with being a princess bride, but did want a great wedding.  Together, Steve and Brooke pulled off their idea of what a perfect wedding should be and I sat back and enjoyed every minute of watching these two perfect this wonderful celebration.

Franc the wedding planner with the bride.
Wish I could remember what he said that had us all laughing with him.

Large chested, big haired young blond women.  Steve was enamored with them.  His jaw would drop, he would gawk and stare unabashedly and in a loud voice ask me  if I had noticed?  I finally gave up and began pointing these wonder women out to him, it was fun to watch him ogle. How he was ever attracted to me still makes me laugh.

Steve and I went to Greece one year.  We spent a week in Athens and then flew to Santorini and Mykonos for two weeks.  Steve loved the history of Greece, the ruins, the art, the museums, but his favorite thing was going to the beaches in Mykonos.  

Strange?  For Steve yes, well no, as they were nude beaches.  He would wake up every morning and say, “Let’s go to the BEACH!”  I was happy as a clam.  We would load up for the day, Steve, completely sun protected and off we’d go.  Steve would find “the perfect spot” right in the big middle of the nude Europeans.  He was in hog heaven pretending to read some book while the naked women flopped around us. He was in utter delight one day when two women sitting beside us struck up a very long conversation with us.  Steve was king of the world!  Boys will be boys, and he always made me laugh.

Steve pretending to read on the beach at Mykonos

Steve also had a fascination with celebrities:  Andre Agassi, Steffi Graf, Bruce Springsteen, Stevie Van Zandt (who played Silvio in The Sopranos, we loved all 86 episodes.)  Sandra Bullock, Candice Bergen, Julia Childs, Sacha Baron Cohen…the list of spotted celebs goes on and on.

Steve was a stalker of these celebrities, never discreet about his need to be up close and personal he would go to absurd means to check out the spotted famed person.  He came close to getting accosted by the Four Season security guard (where Brooke was working) because he crossed the “tape” in order to get a good look at his best friend, Silvio aka Stevie Van Zandt.  Brooke had to step in and tell the guard it was her dad.  So unlike Steve to ignore rules at all costs just to be up close and personal with a celebrity, but for some unknown reason they held his curiosity.

Headphones.  Steve had these Sony radio headphones that were ancient and are no longer made.  Actually I still have a stash of them that I bought from Ebay.  As each one would die, Steve always had a back up pair.  He loved this brand because it enabled him to use them inside, outside, in the garage, wherever he was working on a project.  He could listen to NPR and block all other sounds around him.  He never cared a lick that he looked like Mickey Mouse sprouting Jiminy Cricket antenna. Nor did Steve think twice that, while hard at work in the yard he would talk to the radio.  Whether agreeing or disagreeing with whatever program he was listening to, he spoke as if on the telephone to the radio voice at the other end of the headset.  His favorite radio show, “Click & Clack’s, Car Talk” he couldn’t wait for the weekly “puzzler”.

Legs.  Steve really admired his legs.  He claimed them his greatest feature, this I believe is the main reason Steve wore shorts almost year round.  One of my favorite quotes that Steve would repeatedly make was, “Do you realize how lucky you are to be married to a guy with such incredibly good-looking legs?”  Steve was always one of the most humble and modest humans I knew, except when it came to those terrific legs!

Those incredible good-looking legs!

I do and always will realize how "lucky," how blessed, I was to be married to Steve Boswell.  I love that he could always make me laugh harder than anyone I knew, never at him but, always with him.  Oh my multi-faceted Steve, how much I miss you. Though I will never be able to laugh with you again, no one will ever be able to take away the happiest memories any one could ever have had. I loved spending my life with you.  

With all my love,

Janet

Psalm 144:15 "Happy are the people to whom such blessings fall;

    happy are the people whose God is the Lord."

 Ecclesiastes 3:12

"I know that there is nothing better for them than to be happy and enjoy themselves as long as they live;"