by Yong Soo Heong
Steph, today marks exactly 1,095 days since you left this world, and not a single one has passed without me feeling the void you left behind. Three years may have come and gone, but the ache of your absence remains as sharp as ever. Yet somehow, against all odds, I’ve managed to keep moving forward—step by hesitant step.
There are moments, countless moments, when I find myself yearning for your gentle strength. Your calming presence, your wise advice, and that determined little push you always gave me to keep going—they’re all etched so deeply in my heart. How I wish you were still here, walking this path beside me.
You and Amy, my beloved late spouse, carved unforgettable marks on my soul. The world hasn’t been the same since you both left far too soon.
Even the simplest things remind me of you, Steph. Something as ordinary as editing transports me back to your exacting standards—your insistence on “recognise” with an “s” instead of “recognize,” and “colour” with a “u” instead of “color.” It never fails to bring a smile to my face because it’s so quintessentially you.
And yet, while you embraced those oh-so-proper British spellings, your heart had a soft spot for some things American as well. You cherished your college memories in Kalamazoo and Detroit, Michigan. Those contradictions—so beautifully you—made you all the more remarkable.
There will never be another you, Steph. You were, and always will be, my soulmate in my later years. My heart still reaches out for you in quiet moments, as though hoping to catch a trace of your spirit. Wherever you are, I hope you’re watching over me, still guiding me, still rooting for me.
You are loved beyond words, Steph. I’ll carry your memory like a treasured keepsake, holding it close until the day we meet again. Please, keep looking out for me, just like you always did.
WE