In Loving Memory of Steven Larsen
I went to your friend’s party the other night for the fourth of July, but you weren’t there. People were talking about you, but they spoke about you in the past tense. A friend said he made a song about you. A few of us were reminiscing about the time when we started dating.
You should have been there. Your name should be spoken about in the present tense. You should have been at the Tap Room or some other party instead of somewhere we all can’t join. The party was packed but it felt so empty. So many people, yet the one we truly wanted to see was you. And you weren’t there. And you never will be.
It’s been two weeks since you passed… And it just still doesn’t feel real.
It’s a fucked up feeling when someone passes away. It’s confusion. Anger. Regret. Sadness. A whole bunch of emotions. I miss you so much and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it except miss you even more. I have to accept the fact that you’re not physically here with us any longer. I have to accept the fact that I won’t be seeing you or hearing your voice or receiving texts or calls or snaps or sarcastic asshole Facebook and Instagram comments from you anymore. I have to accept the fact that I’ll never see your smile or your baby blue eyes or the dimples on your cheeks ever again. I have to accept the fact that this is what it is now and there is no changing it.
A piece of my heart had been taken along with you this past week. The peace of mind I had just two weeks prior has left me, and now I’m left with a fucked up semi-functioning brain to cope with this pain I don’t even know how to deal with. I just don’t even understand what I’m supposed to do or say, but I suppose there is absolutely nothing that can be said or done.
You were taken from us way too soon. We had plans. We had places to go and people to hang out with and events to attend and fun things to do… Now none of it will ever happen. I’m a firm believer that everything happens for a reason, but why the fuck did this happen? We will never know. It will never make sense. It will never ever make sense.
You always made me so happy and could make me laugh harder than anyone I’ve ever met. Your spirit was unlike any other. You always looked out for everyone else and made sure everyone was having a good time. When we dated, I was so proud to call you my boyfriend. You were the epitome of a gentleman and a man’s man. You knew how to have your fun and may have been deemed an “asshole” but you were always truly respectful and kind and full of love and joy. You always showed your best intentions because good intentions were all you ever had.
I am so lucky to have known you. You were one of a kind, and I will never forget you or meet another like you. I will keep you alive through our memories. I will keep you in my heart and mind and think of you every day. I will speak of you in the highest regard and talk about you often. I will love you always. I will miss you forever. We all will.
I hope wherever you are you are at peace. I hope you are with our loved ones who have also passed. I hope you’re driving 200 MPH and having fun without worrying about cops or rules or laws (although I’m not too sure you ever did anyway). I hope you are looking after all of us. I hope you are smiling and enjoying your new life wherever you are and whoever you are with. I hope you know how much you were and are loved. I hope one day when I pass, you will be there to guide me to where you are and show me the ropes on how to send signs to those left behind as well as you do.
You had told me when I saw you the Thursday before this happened that you had some blogging advice for me. You told me to be more transparent with my words. “When you read Lester’s blog, you can see him saying the shit he writes… but you look at my posts and can’t see me saying what I write.” Although I said okay and laughed it off and took your advice with a grain of salt, the fact that you, the guy who barely knew what BuzzFeed was when I was so excited to tell you I started writing for them, cared enough to read my blog means more to me than you’d ever know, and I wish I told you that.
So this blog post is for you. This one is straight from the heart, no bullshit, no words to evoke a reaction, no being “artsy” like you said I try to do. This one is completely and wholeheartedly for you, Steve.
We will meet again one day, and I look forward to it. Wherever you are, please look after us all and continue to show us you are here in the ways you now know how. Rest and ride peacefully, Scuba. I love you and will miss you beyond words could ever say.