we're so lucky he was here not even one week ago. he arrived with his two grocery-store-overnight-bags, one containing a toothbrush & toothpaste, and the other a six-pack of beer (therein lies the problem, possibly, along with the sad knowledge that he recently stopped taking his blood pressure meds. but that is neither here nor there). he walked in, popped a beer, admired J's tree progress, played with E, met my sister "that girl has a good, normal family. marry her and have a baby. you deserve that.", and then cooked up a storm. J and Steve in the kitchen: a force to be reckoned with. why didn't I snap a photo of the incredible meal/mess they made? the man can cook ... country fried steak, encouragement of my sliced cabbage and homemade biscuits. "don't judge me on these, they're the first I've made in years. I'll practice and you can come back for more." the steak turned into a need for gravy, which consumed half a gallon of milk and a lot of stirring. "these are country fried steak biscuits." it was thick, yes, but we raved. and J and I ate it for the next few days, every last bit of it.
|steve's last meal on the Hill. he's unfortunately not pictured here, but his water glass & steak biscuits are.|
it was a late dinner at Lee's that night, Ellis falling asleep on the couch while we finished our meal. before I tucked my soft blue blanket in around him, I told him I'd carry him home wrapped in the blanket. "I want Memaw to carry me." so Memaw did, and that is what I hope little E will remember about him. that not one week before his life was cut short, Memaw cuddled our sleeping boy all the way home on the golf cart and kissed him good night after walking in our door. "what a big boy he's becoming." indeed ... this dad of three boys certainly knew what he was talking about.
J and I walked him up to the guest room, lamented the fact that he was turning in so early "it's already 11:00 ... way past my normal bedtime." and said goodnight. we heard him leave the next morning. and now he's gone. a great friend whom we'll fondly remember and sorely miss, goodbye, steve.