Kelly
When every memory feels like the fondest, maybe the truest one isn’t a single moment at all; it’s the whole constellation of him.
But if I had to let one shine brightest, I think it would be the one that holds the fullest picture of who Steven was to me: the baptism video I keep returning to. In that short clip I have everything at once: the little boy whose diapers I changed, now a grown man choosing faith in front of those who journey along and me who will forever love him.
The fiercely independent spirit who still let himself be vulnerable and held in that water
the philosophical, scripture-loving heart laid bare in its joy
the tender, emotional brother whose smile in that moment looked exactly like the one he gave me when he was two and just made him laugh by kissing that freckled nose
the reliable, patient (and impatient) soul who waited his whole life for that particular Easter Sunday.
I let the tears come; they’re love with nowhere left to go. Steven is still in every salt drop: the freckled nose I kissed, the deep talks about scripture, the way he could make me laugh until my stomach hurt, the man who rose dripping from that baptism water beaming like the sun itself. He’s in all of it, and he always will be. I'm not crying because he’s gone from me.
I'm crying because he’s still so alive inside of me.
With deep fondness and infinite love,
your sister.
-John 3:16