Heard there were police investigating a death at your home, I prayed for it not to be you. I left to work with trepidation, half breathing, walking lightly as if on rice paper so as not to disturb the balance of the cosmos. So as not to offend lest it may be true.
I didn’t want to hear.
Walking passed, the voices echoed you died. I repeated, I pleaded in silence no, no, please no. I stopped. Looking down at my phone, saw it through the glare of the midday. My heart and breathing decided to race. I descended the stairs into the subway, wanted to reach a monitor where I could see with my own eyes, hear with my own ears.
Diving into an office, turned the computer on, aloud I asked why over and over and over. Why?
As the news crystalized...they found you collapsed in an elevator.
My youth died yet again.
The rush of memories, words, music, dreams suppressed to continue on with life, inundated my sight, my surroundings. Play back. I entered a hologram of my youth I could not avoid and found myself mechanically going through the day.
Today, numb, contemplating what happened, wandering around where I’d go from here. How can I flee from time again? I buried my being inside your memory for today to commune with you. To thank you for making me happy, for making me cry. I communed only with my self to give you space to enter my presence freely. I stopped today, stopped Earth's procession to see and feel you in my youth for the last time today.
Originally posted on October 5, 2011
When I was the director of a youth center, filled with street kids who had very little to occupy their time constructively, the Apple Company and Steve Jobs gave us computers and printers. These were the first little MAC machines the company invented. I will never forget the excitement of opening those boxes, setting up those computers, turning them on and being confronted with a little happy face staring back at me from inside that monitor.
We immediately set up computer classes for the kids and began offering tutoring sessions using our new MACs.
Now, over thirty years later, I own an iPhone. When I purchased it for my 50th birthday last December, I still felt just as I did when we received those MACs; the wonder, the awe, the childlike excitement were all still there, intact. Even now, I marvel at this little phone every time I use it. I'm still discovering new things about it. I'm still a child with a toy.
Thank you Steve.
Nancy Mercado, Ph.D.
PS. Albert Einstein said energy (we) can never be destroyed. Steve finished here. He's gone on to the next plane of existence to continue his work.