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Today my long-time friend Aleta called while I was working. We worked for the State of Oregon together way back in the day, like late 1980s and 1990s. I had not heard from her in a while. She sounded so cheery when she said, “Hi Mary, how are you?”

I sighed. Oh no, she must have heard. Or perhaps she hadn’t? I was not sure.

“You did hear that Stevie passed away, right?” I said. I felt she should know, and I did not want to waste too much time because these calls have been so hard.

“Yes, Mary, I did.” Suddenly, I heard Aleta sobbing on the other end. Of course, then I sobbed as well. Luckily, I work from home, so nobody knew what was happening at my desk. It got super heavy and emotional.

“I wanted to be strong for you, Mary, but I just couldn’t. It’s so unfair that this happened…”

“I agree.”

Silence, then more crying.

Then I shared that Stevie was riding in a van with my son Jeremy, his wife, Erika, and my little grandson, Issak. They were returning from a trip to Portland, where Stevie had a doctor’s appointment that went well, and they visited my niece, walked around the Grotto, and had a fabulous day.

Suddenly, Stevie said he could not breathe. Emergency, he said. They stopped immediately. The last thing he said was, “I’m going down.” he passed out and never came to again. My son Jeremy and Erika gave him CPR on the side of the freeway. An EMT guy stopped to help before the ambulance arrived to take him to the hospital. He never came to again. Never said another word. My Stevie was gone just like that. My oldest, who made me a mother. My wonderful boy.

Where the fuck is the guardian angel when I needed them most? I had to say that because we all agreed that the kids and I went through so much, but we always made it through everything, even my pregnancy with Megan.

We always landed on our feet. Just like Stevie did when he was sick. He always got better. He was strong and resilient.

Somehow I feel like the universe failed us…

But we did not end it on such a bad note. Aleta had many “Mary” stories about Stevie, who was eight years old when we started working together. almost every story I told related to those kids, Stevie, Melissa, and Jeremy, and later Megan.

We were so much alike, Stevie and I, in so many ways. He embraced the 1960s culture and music as I did and made it his own. Jeremy did too and now his other half is gone. My family is fractured and broken now.

Yes, a big part of my heart is missing now… and I can’t ever fill it again.