in memoriam

"It is an illusion that youth is happy, an illusion of those who have lost it; but the young know they are wretched, for they are full of the truthless ideals which have been instilled into them, and each time they come in contact with the real they are bruised and wounded." -W. Somerset Maugham, Of Human Bondage

When I first heard the news, I couldn't believe it...
... I still can't believe it...

We lived across the street from "Steve Jr." (as everybody on the block would call him) and his family for about 11 years, but lost touch after they moved away. I can't say that we were very close, but our families had little get-togethers/parties every once in a while, and we carpooled for a bit in high school with his twin sister and a couple of the other neighborhood kids. Our mothers would sometimes go out for drinks in the middle of the day.... and it was nice to know that, judging from the giggly calls I would get from my own, that the neighborhood moms had someone with whom to de-stress and share silly stories about their kids.

I will always remember listening to Steve shooting hoops out in the street every evening-- it was a sound I had come to know since when I first moved into the neighborhood... This was many years ago: it was the spring of 1994, and I was only six-years-old. I remember looking out my bedroom window on the day my family moved in; I didn't like looking at our moving truck because it reminded me too much of our old home and old friends, and made feel sad. So, instead, my attention was drawn to the boy dribbling his basketball in the driveway across the street. For some reason, that moment is one of my most vivid childhood memories. Watching young Steve (who was then eight) playing outside cheered me up and filled me with hope for my new life in Fremont. Over the years, as we all grew up, the soft, reassuring pattering of Steve's basketball striking the asphalt was a sound I came to associate with feelings of calmness, safety, warmth, home, familiarity. If Steve was outside playing ball, you knew everything was safe and well on Calistoga Circle.

Steve played basketball in his driveway every evening, until his family moved away. I hear that he grew up, joined the Marines, and was stationed in Iraq. He was supposed to be getting out of the military in June...

Steve-- I'm really sorry for not having gotten to known you better over all of those years we lived near each other (I was very shy as a kid), but it was easy to tell that you cared deeply for your family and was a genuinely kind person. I can't imagine what your family must be going through, but you and your family are on our thoughts and in our prayers.

Goodbye, old friend... farewell.

R.I.P. Steve Dicochea Jr. (1985- Feb. 27, 2009)