My mom once told me that she saw my relationship with my girlfriend Susan as that of two “mochi” stuck together, the red/green bean-filled Japanese pastry. Like mochi, we are inseparable and always hugging and holding hands. Susan and I were speaking about Steven and you the other day and Susan mentioned that the two of you were "mochis” too! No other couple was as inseparable as you two were. Every time I saw you two together, both of you were stuck together like two mochi. Sitting together on the couch, walking on the street, the both of you were always holding each other and always with a smile on your faces.

Although I wasn’t around the apartment very often when I lived at 2145, I have several lasting memories about Steven. I remember waking up on the weekends. Steven would come out of your room in the morning just as I was walking out and we’d look at each other. We’d stand there in the middle of the hallway and a smile would form simultaneously on both of our faces. We were looking at mirror images of each other…two groggy Asian guys with the worst case of bedhead. We would look at each other in the hallway and he would give me that million-dollar smile, smirking at my bedhead, while I looked at him and smirked at his bedhead. Steven was the only other guy that I knew that would get such a severe case of bedhead.

I vividly remember the time when I came home late one night. Both of you were sitting in the living room watching TV. You were knitting and he was intently watching a TV program. Once the TV program ended, Steven looked over at me and said, “Do you want to see something?” Before I could answer, Steven ran off to your room and came back with a few items in his hands. He told me all about how he was starting up a new consulting business and how he got these great business cards made. And of course…he got a great price on the Internet! I remember how his eyes lit up when he starting talking about the great opportunity and how he already had a client. I was so impressed and knew that his drive and tremendous intelligence would no doubt make his venture successful. I remember seeing how you were so supportive and proud of him.

I also remember one night Steven and you came home late. The door opened and I heard Steven and you walking up the stairs. He was stomping up the stairs really loud…like a kid does. He was slurring something incoherent and in a loud voice. When you got to the top of the stairs, you looked over at me and rolled your eyes and whispered, “Steven’s drunk!” A few seconds and thumps later, Steven reaches the top of the staircase, swinging his arms, with his big smile and in a slurring voice, Steven says, “HI BEN, I’m DRUNK!” You came back into the living room and give him a glass of water. He took the glass from you and said “What if I don’t want to drink it?” You sternly responded, “DRINK IT!” It was pretty hilarious. Steven was always such a happy drunk and you were always there for him!

I learned a lot about Steven last weekend from all the stories and by reading the memory book. It is pretty obvious that he had many friends who loved his vibrant and sincere personality. I only wish I could have experienced more with him. Steven and I had a lot of things in common. We both love fishing, rock climbing and enjoying nature. I wish I knew those great things about Steven. He could’ve been the older brother I never had. The way Steven lived, with so much energy and passion is such an inspiration to me. You know all too well about how much I work. Instead of dreaming of going fishing, trying to visit Susan or taking my dad to Yosemite, I am now making definite plans…never putting my family second and never delaying my dreams. My new motto, is to “Live life like Steven!”

On Easter morning, I jumped in the shower and got ready to drive out to the outlets to see if I could find Steven some of those hats that you emailed me about. I was so excited to go. I went to my computer to get directions. I also checked my email. That is when I received the horrible news from you…I remember sitting on the floor of my apartment…dazed.

I used to tell people, “Everything happens for a reason…” With Steven, I can’t comprehend any possible reason for such a tragedy. Our thoughts are with you. When you get sad, think of Steven’s million-dollar smile…with that incredible BEDHEAD! I know I do.

-Ben Yu

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