Stephen M. Williams (8/16/49-4/13/2011)

There's a vacant spot in my heart today as I announce Steve's death. He fought so hard against every health calamity, we always expected he'd land on his feet once again - or foot, as it happened after his recent amputation.

We brought him home from the hospital on Monday, April 11. He slept comfortably through the night, happy to be home. Tuesday was a rough day with a great deal of pain. After we finally got his medications squared away, he said to my son Tim and me,

"I thought I was supposed to die yesterday."

I asked him what he meant, to which he just shook his head. Then I asked him if he needed to go back to the hospital. Steve's eyes got wide.

"No, they won't let you die in the hospital."

The next morning, Steve was markedly less responsive. On the Medic One ride to the hospital, Steve went into ventricular fibrillation. He died on the way; no more measures were needed. Steve had had enough. I suspect he'd had a stroke in the night, or maybe a heart attack. I don't even really know, and it doesn't even really matter, I suppose.

For anyone who might question, Steve gave out. He never gave up.

So now, we plod along, going through the process of grieving and adjusting. For me, the problem is that every molecule, song, word or purpose is connected to Steve.

I never loved anyone the way I loved Steve. And there is no doubt in my heart that he loved me deeply.

We will have a party sometime; he wasn't a funeral kind of guy. We'll place an obituary in the paper.  For anyone so inclined, rememberences may be directed to the Ingersoll Gender Center, Planned Parenthood of Seattle-King County, or charity of choice.

Take care.
Linda Gromko, MD