In Memory of Steve

My great friend, LtCol (Retired) Steve Slate, USAF, died in his Colorado Springs apartment on Saturday. Many of you didn't know Steve personally, but he represented bedrock in my life from late 1997 through mid-1999 - some of the darkest days of my life. Steve was my boss for most of my time at the Air Force Academy and was one of the best military leaders it has been my pleasure to serve under in over 20 years.

In the last days of Debra's illness, many asked how I was doing; Steve was one of the few who wanted the real answer, not the generic "I'm good, thanks." His office door was always open to me (and others, I suppose) and we spent hours raging about life and loss in 97 & 98, then celebrating it together in early 1999 as Sandy and I moved from dating to engagement to marriage.

Steve cared for me, while I cared for Debra and Cooper. I can't emphasize that last sentence nearly enough - he cared for me when I needed it most, when I was most alone and the most under the gun in my life. Many of you loved and supported me through that time, but he was the guy that was there, day in and day out, as I logged thousands of miles to and from the hospital. Steve helped me work through the tiredness and guilt of the caregiver; he gave me the freedom to balance being the husband, the father and the professional I needed to be. Not all of our battle buddies show up along side us in combat - Steve was my wartime friend, the 'Joe' you would do anything for because he would do the same for you.

My friend Steve is gone, and I am not there to offer to his family the bedrock that he was to me. That pains me to no end. I have the absolutely highest regard for this man, I will miss him dearly and will cherish his memory and friendship. Steve loved to give me grief, loved to hear my "hard ass" Army stories and loved to beat me on the golf course, which he did with the greastest of ease and good humor.

Just this weekend I considered that I could lose someone close to me during this tour and be unable to get back to "deal with it." I was thinking family, but here I am facing it now.

If you don't like to hear me talk about faith, quit reading now, cuz that's where we're heading.

For all Steve did for me, ultimately I failed Steve. One of the reasons I am especially struggling with this loss is that, although I think he came to share my faith in Christ over the years of our friendship, I'm not absolutely sure and he had some bad theology that we were to work through. After I returned to Colorado Springs a couple of years ago, I had two hopes for my relationship with Steve - assure him that God loved him (dealing with some of the bad theology, which, as was pointed out to me today, we all have to some degree) and to help get him back on the golf course. He was a scratch golfer - never hit it long but had a killer short game that saved him par most of the time. Steve had suffered many debilitating medical issues (back and heart) that made it hard, if not impossible, to head back to the course but I wanted to help him get back any way I could.

But our lives got in the way and I achieved neither - there was "always tomorrow." Now there is not.

I commit myself to those with whom I have built the relationship, perhaps - the right, to ask about their faith - when the time is right and in a way that respects them, but waiting not one minute past reaching those conditions. If they have questions about my faith, I will be available. In the other moments in my life and in other relationships, new and old, when the moment is right, I will take the opportunity and not let it pass in front of me. I do this not for me (I don't believe in notches on the religious belt), or necessarily for the person I talk to, but because God told me, as a Christian, to do it in obedience to Him.

Please join me in praying for Steve's family - Carla, and children Joel, college age; Daniel, high school; and their daughter, Rebecca.

Godspeed, my friend. I have the greatest of hopes to see you again.

"A veteran - whether active duty, retired, national guard, or reserve: is someone who, at one point in his/her life, wrote a blank check made payable to The United States of America, for an amount of "up to and including my life." - Unknown author