The Ballad of Steve Bangalan (Part 1)

It reads “Dear Steve, My Brother,”

Written long ago, unopened, and never read, the words were completely inadequate. 

They still are.

A 152 Love Story: Drive & Driving Crazy

I thought the 152s were stories about a girl – they are, but they're also about something more. It took losing you for me to realize it.

12/30/2012 - It was equally as beautiful on the day of the 152 story (albeit it was late Summer and not Winter)

“Why am I so damn crazy?”/ “She could be the one!”/ “It’s perfect!”/ “Her smile and dimples can melt ice caps!”/ “I have school tomorrow!”/ “What, are you going to do, throw it all away?”/ “What if it doesn’t work out?”/ “What if it does?!!”/ “You got to take a chance!”/ “What about your plans?”/ “Why are you talking to yourself?”/“Why am I so damn crazy?!!”

On the 152 I found myself driving crazy. Before me was a plan, a goal, something for the future. Behind me was home, familiarity, Family & Friends. In my mind there was this self-created drama; a frenzy; a panic attack!! “WTH am I doing?”/ “Why can’t I find it?”/ “Did I pass it?”/ “WTH is the 5?”

I drove back and forth arguing with myself…filled with doubt. I circled back towards Gilroy. Almost arriving into Gilroy I turn the car around. "No, no, no. The 5 is behind me! It has to be!"/ "WTF?"/ "Did I miss it again?"/ "WTH is wrong with me?" I drove that stretch of road turning the car around at least half a dozen times that day. I kept thinking I had missed the 5. My mind was obviously elsewhere...

“WTF is going on with me?”/ “Why can’t I think straight?” I pulled off the road at this exact spot. I called him in near tears. Here was a moment in time, a chance to go forward or go back… and at that moment time stopped.

It’s the simple things that made Steve such a great man.  His heart simply loved and he simply cared for everyone, especially his family.  I say simply but there was nothing simple about it.  Steve only made it look easy.  It was automatic with him.  Like his three pointers – he practiced it until it was perfect.  He must have practiced since from childhood – his smile, his tenderness endeared him to everyone.  Although he was of modest beginnings, he had the greatest treasure imaginable – a loving heart. 

In him, I saw a measure of a man I respect and honor.  Through him, I found definition of what it means to have an adopted family, to have brothers in arms.  Our adventures were great – and for a time we were invincible. 

Here, I’m reminded of your beauty.  Here your life touched mine in a way that profoundly altered my existence.  That moment in time – was when we became brothers.  Lost in the wilderness, adventure ahead of me and home some distance behind, I reached out for your guidance.  Selfless like always, you calmed the storm of my maddening thoughts.  Like a beacon of light (bright like a diamond) shining through the night - you calmly spoke words that I will hold to my dying breath. 

“Go take care of business man.  Better yourself.  We’ll always be here for you.  Your homies and your family – we’re not going anywhere.” 

...

He always said, "Your homies will be here when you get back." But Steve will no longer offer that advice.  He will no longer greet me with a smile, or treat me with a round of spirits. He will no longer be able to calm me with his voice, tell me to relax, don't be an idiot and go to school.  “Don’t drive yourself crazy.  Just drive.”

I didn't come home soon enough; I was away at school.  Two nights before my drive home, five nights before Christmas, Steve was stabbed in the abdomen by a punk filled with violence and stupidity.  The knife punctured his liver and he bled out. My brother Steve died alone amongst strangers in an ambulance.

The grief and loss would have been unbearable save not for our mutual Friends & Family.  Together we grieved and mourned.  Together we remembered your simple deeds of Great Kindness, and we remembered your life and your spirit.  Though your death left a chasm of despair and inconsolable rage, though it unjust, sudden, and cruel, we but cannot help but think of you and see you smiling back.  And yet it doesn't end... we still remember, we still cry, we still mourn...

I now yearn and jump at every news; any details about seeking justice, there will be no closure until there is justice.  In truth, I don't give a Frack about closure - all I want is for Steve to be here.  To hear his voice telling me that’ll he'll be home waiting with our Friends & Family.

You see the 152s wasn't just about a girl. There’s more…

The Ballad of Steve Bangalan and the 152s: Part 2 | Part 3