Stu died twelve years ago today, June 20. With good reasons, it is impossible to feel any sadness or to mourn him.
I had Kaposi's Sarcoma in early 2003. I nearly died three months before Stu really died.
I will never forget how we sat together in my hospital room on Saturday night March 29, 2003. Faced with the possibility of my death, it happened. "I'm sorry." "I apologize." "What the hell was I thinking when I said so and so." "I love you." These were the words we said. Forty-three years of rancor, anger, fear and sadness went right out the window. They were instantly replaced with respect, admiration and love, feelings we already had but were masked by everything else. Then my friend Cy O'Neal showed up. Cy and Stu were instant buddies. She dubbed Stu "Twinkle Eyes". The rest of the evening was sad and beautiful and joyous.
The last thing Stu and I said to each other was "I love you". In the hours following the call that he died, while sad beyond sad I remember this thought. There were neither any unresolved feelings nor anything left unsaid. My relationship with Stu was complete, with a nice David Mikelberg blue ribbon tied around it. Giving his eulogy two days later, I could speak of only the love he had for us all and how he was the definition of a larger than life character. Instead of goodbye were the oft-repeated words, "Hooray for Stu!"
My sadness was lightened a bit by the knowledge he died on June 20, the date of my prize losing appearance on The $20,000 Pyramid. How kind and thoughtful of Stu to leave on a day I already equate with loss.
When Stu's Cheesecake started, I had the belief of punching a hole in the Universe so Stu could be here to see it. There are no words to describe the feeling and its empowering result. Stu's been with me every step of the way.
Look at any online profile I have and his name is the first thing you see. For crying out loud, so many friends call me Stu. That's fine with me and again, Stu is here.
The joy and fun everyone experiences as they eat Stu's Cheesecake is the essence of what Stu is all about. I see it and that's everything.
Yes, I miss him. Sadness? Mournfulness? Out of the question.
Dad, I have a gift for you on this Father's Day. We're building, slowly but surely. There are those who've helped us get this far over the past three years. To them we are forever grateful. We still need help. We'll find our needed assistance.
I'll never quit. I'll see it through. Impossible to do when you were here, I'll do it now, I promise. It is something worthwhile I can do for us both.
You get it, Dad. I know you do.
