Steven, with a drink in his hand, bouncing around at an indie rock show. Steven jumping up and down with a big silly grin on his face. Steven, sweating profusely over an Indian meal -- Lord, I’ve never met someone who sweated so much, no less a Korean.

Steven and I met in Chicago - it must have been '96 or '97. Having a far superior memory than I, he could remember that we met during a party at Ben Kim's apartment. Apparently I was sitting on the floor, talking to someone. In Chicago, we partied a lot. Every weekend there was a rock show or BBQ or some get-together. A group of us used to meet up on Sunday nights at a bar - I think it was called Nick's. What I remember from those days was that Steven had such positive energy about him; he was good-natured and kind-hearted.

I got to know Steven better when I moved to the Bay Area about two years ago. I had lunch with him at Dolores Park Cafe the first day I arrived. “Gosh, Mel dresses a lot better now,” he later told me about what he was thinking.

I thought I was lucky to get transferred to a city where I could reconnect with someone like Steven. Like a big brother, he was always looking out for me, giving me advice on just about everything, from cars to careers to romance. He even went so far as to tell who I should and shouldn't date!

Steven often stopped by my office in Oakland when he had clients on my side of the bridge. We spent a lot of time not doing much of anything - just eating and drinking and talking - and those are some of the best times we shared. I remember one night he came over and showed me countless photos of fishing adventures archived online. Then we just walked around my neighborhood. We walked over to a road that cuts across the 580 freeway like a bridge and watched the cars passing by beneath. He was always such good company.

In the weeks before Steven got sick, he helped me with laying the groundwork for Hyphen magazine. The magazine was a bit disorganized and he came in right away with a structure chart and so many ideas. You could tell Steven was an only child. He wanted things done in a specific way. He was so focused and precise about everything. He always gave 100 percent.

At the beginning of April, I visited Steven for a week to help him after he finished his initial round of chemo. I deeply cherish the time I was able to spend with him. We talked a lot and watched our share of trashy TV. One day we watched "Saturday Night Live" reruns with Adam Sandler. He loved Adam Sandler.

Steven had alternating chills and fevers. Whenever he got a fever, he would try to bring it down by thinking of spicy foods, which of course, made him sweat. I thought that was so funny and clever. Even though he was sick, his primary concern was other people. He often reminded me to slow down and not stress so much. He worried about Cindy working too hard and feared she would get sick. You could tell by the way that they talked about each other, that they shared so much love.

Physically weak, he needed help in even a short walk to the bathroom. But his spirit was so strong. Steven talked a lot about the future. About getting married soon and opening a small business, maybe a crepe place. They didn't have lots of those in L.A., he reasoned. That was Steven, always looking forward and staying positive, something that I admire greatly.

The last we spoke to each other was when I left to catch a plane back to Oakland. As I opened the front door, he called out, "I love you."

"I love you too," I said.

-Melissa Hung

previous | next