last tuesday, my husband received his latest hepatitis c test results.

for those who are just now tuning into this saga, we think he contracted hep c during a surgery five years ago, and life since this shocking news hit has never been the same. we were in our twenties, prematurely grappling with our mortality. i was doing in vitro, he was enduring a year-long chemo-like treatment, and syringes and sharpe’s containers were among our regular household items. six months post-treatment, we got the news that the virus was back. there were treatments in the works but nothing new was on the market. hep c is a slowly progressing virus, so andy set out to control what he could control and live his life.

andy had regular acupuncture appointments and took fist fulls of herbs morning, noon, and night. he stopped drinking, stopped eating red meat, and eliminated unnecessary stress. he committed himself to getting more sleep, and he became a force of nature in the weight room and during his frequent jogs. i am still in awe of his determination and persistence.

last year, a hep c test revealed that he had no more virus in his blood. we were told that if he got similar results this year, he would be counted among the small percentage of people who manage to fight the virus off themselves. last tuesday, he joined this modest and grateful category of healthy men and women.

just as we were beginning to process this news, our neighbor and very dear friend, steve, passed away suddenly. steve was an almost daily part of our lives. in the two years since we moved in next door, we have had many meals together outside, in the cove, and inside, around our table. every member of our family loved him.

i was asked to officiate steve’s funeral yesterday, and driving away from the graveside after it was all over, i told andy that i am not sure i will ever receive a higher honor in my ministry. i am including some segments from my homily (crafted from many emails i received from his friends) that describe the kind of person he was. but i think andy really said it best when he said, “you know someone was a good person when his mailman shows up for his funeral.”

Steve was fun loving.

Perhaps this trait was the most obvious in Spin Class, where he always had “his” spot, right in front of the mirror. After leaving several times to change out of sweaty shirts, Steve could be counted on to have a water fight with Liz, or to stand up and start singing to his favorite Spin Class song, which, by the way, “That’s not My Name” by the Ting Tings.

Outside of Spin Class, Steve knew how to find a certain lightness about life and tap into it. And then, with a smile or a laugh, or just the right amount of teasing, he’d bring his friends into this lightness too….

Steve made Midtown better.

According to one business owner, “He didn’t just own the buildings in Midtown that so many popular businesses occupy, but he participated in our success. He patronized us all and helped so many of us become or remain successful.”…

If the grass got too high at Peabody Park, Steve would arrive on the scene with his lawnmower. Because of things like this, even those who didn’t know Steve personally have suffered a loss….

Finally, Steve was a “passionate participant in life.”

In other words, whether it was yoga, spinning, cycling, running, tennis, art, or [his granddaughter], Steve approached everything with passion and had a blast in the process. He truly enjoyed life and set a great example for all of us.”

He once told one of you, “I love my life, and I look forward to waking up every day.”….

It is with enormous grief that we gather here. But we do not have to say goodbye to Steve. Time will bring back that sense of lightness Steve loved to show us. The grief will fade. And we will remember him with nothing but gratitude.