One year ago today my beloved friend and soul brother Steve Bridges passed away. I wanted to share this from last year. Still here in Santa Fe where I came for Ronan’s memorial… Never take anything or anyone for granted…
Originally posted on The Manifest-Station:
When I was 19 and at NYU, I wrote a poem called “To My Father, After His Death”.
On Saturday morning, someone who I referred to as my brother and whom I had a connection with that could never be explained in words, passed away in his sleep. He was 48. Steve Bridges was the kindest and the funniest man I had ever known. Besides my own dad Mel, who, to this day if you go to Philadelphia and say the name Melvin Pastiloff people who sigh and say ” Mel was the funniest human being I had ever known. Still. To this day. And he died in 1983.”
My dad was 38 when he died. Steve was 48.
These past few days have been filled with new grief on top of old grief.
Yesterday I taught my Sunday morning class at Equinox, lovingly dubbed…
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