My memories of Stephen are like those that come from a distant relative forever on the periphery of family events. I was rarely directly involved in his world, but got to see some of it in glimpses and passings-by. Holidays and birthdays and simple summer days, I was there for most of the major events thanks to our family’s friendship with the Ko family. As the third of the Ko children, nestled in between the dominant older boys and the youngest baby girl, Stephen somehow managed to shine as his own star, impressing both mother and father in the manner that everyone else tried in their own various ways to attain.
He’d avoided the brunt of being one of the first-two born, and the competitive destiny that befalls many of us brothers no matter how hard we fight against it. He was also several years removed from the baby girl of the family, Suzie, with whom I would grow up. As the youngest kids in most situations, Suzie and I went largely unnoticed. Maybe because of that we got to see a little bit more. Even with such cover, Stephen glided more or less outside of my radar, and the few memories I have of him are rather ephemeral and innocuous.
One day I was playing with the Barbie dolls in Suzie’s bedroom. That glorious room, with its pink gingham canopy bed, lost completely upon Suzie but absolutely adored by me, held a large collection of mostly-ignored dolls and doll houses, and every time I went over to visit I’d find a way to play with them. Suzie would be supremely bored and usually slip away to find something – anything – more exciting than dolls. I’d brush their golden hair and arrange them by the pool. I’d set them in a car and send them on a summer drive. I’d seek out the fanciest ball gown and change them into it. They simply didn’t get the proper treatment they deserved while under the careless watch of Suzie. Just as I was doing this, Stephen walked by the room and asked if I was playing with Barbie. I’m sure I said absolutely not, even if I wasn’t quite socially cognizant enough to feel shame. He passed on, heading out to play basketball or something, and never mentioned it.
A couple of years later he took us to see ‘The Sting’ when he was supposed to take us to a children’s movie. He told us not to tell anyone, and I hope I didn’t, but I was angered that we had to watch some boring adult movie, and greatly unimpressed with the selfishness of young men even when it came to their baby sister and her equally-selfish best friend.
There was something more sensitive about Stephen though, and while he would tease my brother and I as much as his older brothers did, we never felt the same fear that they could inspire. There was something gentler about him, an artistic temperament that seemed to feel things a little more keenly than the average person. He lived a charmed childhood, from my limited vantage point, and he had the kindness, confidence and laissez-faire attitude that may have been a result of his cushioned position in the family.
The world isn’t always kind to those who feel things more keenly, however, and I occasionally imagined his moments of torment and pain, especially when his father died. Everyone died a little on that day, and I don’t think anyone has fully recovered. There is no recovery from such a swift, gaping loss. A bit of it heals, a lot of it scars, and in the end it’s with us for life – the constancy of which may be the slightest bit of balm on such a sea of hurt.
Families survive, somehow, and those who live hopefully find happier moments with which to build new memories, which is the happy ending of this post. After marrying his fiancee Hye Sun earlier this year in South Korea, Stephen has returned to celebrate with those of us unable to make that journey. He and Hye Sun are sharing a grand party both for their wedding and his Mom’s 80thbirthday celebration (another post for another day). We will be joining them in our hometown of Amsterdam, NY – the city where we grew up – and for one of those rare moments our families will once again be together. That hasn’t happened in a very long time, and we’ve all missed it.
