For those who missed the news, Steve died, very suddenly, last night. He had gone down to the basement where we’re accustomed to walk every day for a figure-8 mile or two, which was our Plan for Keeping Fit through the Maine winters. He was, he said, going to finish up his daily laps. I told him, as I often did, to “have a good walk!” and he answered, cheerfully, as he often did, “I will have a good walk!”
Finishing up the laps should have taken about a half-hour, but I was writing and not keeping track of time, so it was close onto an hour when it occurred to me that I hadn’t heard him come upstairs, announcing to the house that he had achieved both heart-points and steps!
I walked back to his office, thinking he might’ve slipped past me, but he wasn’t there. I went downstairs.
Steve was face down on the floor, and he wasn’t breathing. I called 911, the operator walked me through getting him turned over and starting CPR, which I kept up until a policeman arrived, closely followed by EMTs, firefighters, and life-saving persons of all orders. They labored for . . . I’m not quite sure, really. A Long Time. In the end, having hit him with everything they had, they just couldn’t get his heart to beat on its own.
After the EMTs left, I waited, in the company of the policeman and the City of Waterville’s chaplin. I called my brother-in-law in Maryland to tell him the news, and asked him to call the rest of Steve’s family. The policeman called Steve’s cardiologist, and got his agreement to sign off on the death certificate, which meant we didn’t have to wait another Long Time for the medical examiner. After a slightly Less Long Time, the funeral people came and took Steve away.
And here we are.
I was “with” Steve Miller for 47 years, many years past half of my lifetime. During our time together, he saved my life several times, taught me to write, provided me with adventures — some, to be sure, inadvertent — with cats, with enthusiasm, and courage. He was proud of me; he liked taking care of me; and from the first he was unabashed and generous in his love. He was an original thinker, and bouncing ideas around with him — whether we were trying to figure out dinner or the plot of the next novel — was a rare intoxication.
If I said he was a perfect angel, no one will be believe that — least of all me. What he was, was a good person, who tried his best to be kind, who genuinely liked people, and had the gift of making lasting connections.
I want to go back to what I said up there, about Steve liking to “take care” of me. The walking course in the basement? Steve created that when I was recovering from cancer, and was gritting my teeth and pushing myself to walk in circles around the main floor of the house, trying to get my strength back. The basement was cool and sheltered; I could sit down if my strength suddenly ran out — and he could keep an eye on me. Ahem. It was only one of the many gifts of, “Let me make this easier for you” that he gave me — and us — during our time together.
And yesterday’s event, as much as I wish it had never happened, was, in its way, one last gift of ease, if not comfort. Steve had seen both of his parents go into slow declines, ending in hospice care, and he had a horror of being in a similar situation.
As far as I can understand it, yesterday’s event was one quick bolt out of the blue after a perfectly usual day of writing, correspondence, plans for bringing a new cat into the house, and more plans of what he wanted to do — tomorrow.
I am not at all happy to have lost him, but I am happy that he was spared the decline he feared.
One more note: People have been asking me How I’m Doing. I’m trying to understand what happened. I’m trying to gather up various paperworks, as one must. I have the passwords to both his computers, so that makes doing needed tasks much easier — again. I’ve been sticking pretty close to my desk in my office, because that’s . . . usual. Our days were Steve at his desk, me at mine, a chat-window open in the margin for random observation, news of interest, cat reports, and questions about what might be for supper. So, sitting here at my desk is . . . a breathing space, when I can forget for a few minutes that he’s not sitting at his.
The chat-window, though, is dark.
Thanks to everyone who sent — who are sending! — condolences. I can’t possible answer all of you individually. Your love and support means a lot.
If there is anything- anything at all- that we, your faithful fan friends can do to make your life easier during these difficult days, please let us know. We care a lot about you and Steve .
If we can help in any way, please let us know
I am so very sorry for your loss! I believe that he will always be watching over you. Please know that you are in my heart and I am sending you all the love and emotional strength that I can.
I am so very sorry for your loss – for the loss we are all suffering. Condolences and hugs from someone you don’t know, but has admired you and your writing for many, many years.
You are so brave. The shock of finding Steve must still be ringing in the ether. Your description of him is perfect.
We never actually met, but allowing us into your lives on the internet has made us invested in your well being. I will miss Steve’s little jokes, rock n roll highlights, fun facts, cat pictures, and even the train news. The world is a little darker today.
Yes, we do worry about you. Life does not prepare us for what you will be facing in the weeks and months ahead. Lean on who you can, hug your cats, and reach out if you want to. There will always be someone out here to listen. ?
I am very sorry for your loss. As others have said, if there is anything a fan can do for you I am more than willing. Sending hugs and positive thoughts your way.
Here if you need us …. For ANYTHING.
Remember that you are loved.
You are worthy.
You are enough.
There isn’t much anyone can say at a time like this. Please let your community know if you need anything. Some of us live closer than others. I am in Waterville. My condolences and prayers for you and your family.
My wife and I are close to the age of you and your husband. It scares us to think about being without each other after 53+ years. As sudden and shocking as Steve’s passing has been, at least he didn’t suffer long. Maybe I should, but I don’t fear being dead. It is the process of getting there and who we leave behind that scares me. I am glad he was spared much of that. I try not to dwell on the past that I can not change nor the scary future that can’t be avoided and isn’t here yet. Be in the now, it is all there is. Easy to say, but hard to do. Best wishes in your time of sorrow and loss.
Please be gentle with yourself for the next long time. Know that there are many, many people who care for you.
You know we’re here if you need us.
Sharon, I feel so sad at your lifemate’s passing. All my condolences go out to you.
I just wish that you and the kitties don’t forget him, but remember him with joy, and that y’all will be able to carry on as best you can!
Fred Smith
My deepest condolences. As one of many local fans, I echo the hope you will reach out if there is anything we can help with. It is the least that we can do for all of the comfort your writing has given us over the years.
Sending love to you and the cats and holding space in my heart for you. Thank you for being so generous with your writing during this unfathomable time. As has been said above, we are here for you.
Since I read it yesterday in your Facebook page, I’m in utter shock. Every now and then, i remember, and I start to cry anew. I’ve been a Lianden Universe fan for at least 24 years, I guess, so you two have been dear companions in these past almost two decades and a half. When couples like you have these endings, can’t help but watch myself in a sort of mirror. I have such kind of life companion myself, 34 years of partnership this next March. So, besides the grief felt as a reader, and writing adventures companion, there is this personal heartfelt pain I forever feel for those who lose their life partner. If I could, I’d embrace you. I wish you patience, in a time where one want to tear one’s hair out and grieve forever. Specially, be patient with those of us who wish you well, but might overwhelm you with our desire to help and fix things that can’t be fixed. My deepest condolences to you and Steve’s family.
I am so sorry for your loss. I’m devastated to hear it. I’ve been thinking about what I, a nearly total stranger, will miss most. Daily cat round ups are my best guess. And I will never be able to look at another day lily without thinking of him. He touched and enriched so many lives, in addition to yours.
May his memory be a blessing.
You are so lucky to have a love so rare. Steve cared fo you so much. You can tell you guys had a deep love for one another. I am so deeply sad for your loss. I wish I lived close so I could come there and give you lots of hugs and you could talk about Steve. He and you have written so many books that are so nice to read. Take care. I a so sorry for your loss.
Beautifully written, though I’m not surprised. My thoughts are with you. I am so glad we reconnected on this strange community of sorts. He was very special and I will miss his humor.
I still have fond memories of folding Albacon fliers with the 2 of you, listening to him talk of how much he enjoyed the film, Ice Pirates .
My condolences as you set about the task of weaving your loss into the fabric of your life. When I unexpectedly lost a loved one, I found Edna St. Vincent Milay’s (of Rockland, Maine) Dirge Without Music oddly comforting. Perhaps her words will speak to you as well.
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/52773/dirge-without-music
I sit here with tears in my eyes for a man I never met. I’m glad he went out with a bang and not a whimper. There is nothing one can say to comfort another for a loss like this. It’s your loss, yours to bear as we all do in this life. Please know that you are in heart and mind.
My heart goes out to you. What a beautiful life you created together.
We’ve never met and likely never will, yet your sharing of the small details of your days together has left me, like others, feeling as though I too have lost one dear friend and am hurting on behalf of another. I wish all possible comfort to you as you grieve the loss of your lifemate, and hope you have real-life close friends at hand for support in the coming days and months.
Please do not worry about answering us. You have already been generosity itself in giving us this sad news and sharing today’s blog post.
Sending love.
I am so glad I got to meet Steve so many years ago when I came to Baltacon & brought Sandy there.
I will miss all the Lilly pictures & cat ones too.
Every time u here an unexpected creek in the house know it is Steve checking in on you.
I know I am far but if u ever need anything just sing out.
Sending you a hug & know I care.
I am so sorry. I also understand (my husband went in much the same way in 2010, after 47 years together). I enjoyed Steve’s FB feed comments re: cats, food, and books very much. If there is anything I can possibly do to be of assistance, please let me know.
Trying to balance well-meaning contact and being respectful of your process is difficult…
But I hope you know that we are all out here just waiting to be ACTUALLY helpful.
In the meantime, all our love and care are yours.
I am SO very, very sorry. I’ve enjoyed both of your posts so much. Your relationship was a treasure. I wish I could say something profound, but you already did that.
It is deeply sad to lose anyone, especially after 47 years. But there are mitigations. The long time you had together, the work you did together, the love between you, and the quick death. May you continue on, remembering Steve always.
So very sorry to read this.
So heartbroken for you and the world. He is already missed. Thank you for this beautiful tribute. Wishing you peace and love and healing.
The world will be a poorer place without Steve in it. He will be missed.
If there is something that someone who is semi-local could do that would be helpful, please let me know.
I have already posted on Facebook, and I see a lot of people here echoing my initial thought – how can we help? And I knew you would not be ready to answer that question, last night, or today, but it helps *us* to know you know we want to help. You and Steve did so many things as a team; meals, planning, writing, reading.
My hope and wish and expectation for you is that all of those things Steve did to make life easier for both of you will also make life without him possible. When you find the holes in the pattern let us know and we’ll try to fill them in.
I’m so sorry for your loss.
May his memory be for a blessing.
Will be thinking of you and the cats.
??
I know there are no words, but I am so terribly sorry this happened. I’ve had three people in my life leave via sudden heart episodes and the best that can be said is that, yes, it’s quick. I’m sending you both all the best thoughts I can, and trust that they will reach the ears that need them. Deepest condolences. (And, I’m going to go hug my parents–87 and 82–now.)
My heart is sore for you, Sharon.
Words never match the need at such times. I hope that memories are always brighter and warmer than the grief.
May his memory be a blessing. His words certainly were. I appreciate that you see the gift in avoiding the long decline -though that gift also has a price. What you have shared about the life he created with you is profound and inspiring.
Please do not feel any obligation to answer each of these posts. You have enough to deal with and we generally wish you well and to ease your burdens, not add to them.
I wish you sufficient hugs, feline and otherwise, to provide comfort. I am hoping that someone in the community can determine what you need and serve as the conduit, your systems need time to process and recover.
You are well loved, from the reaches of fandom.
So very sorry for your loss.
That is the single most authentic obituary I have ever had the privilege to read.
In joy for Steve, who I too think would have chosen an end like just like so, albeit perhaps a few years later. In sorrow for you Sharon. Please allow us to know the how and when of the moment our help, may actually help.
We are so sorry to hear about Steve’s passing.
Bob and June Praet
Easier on Steve but hard on you. I was there a couple of years ago with my housemate, though we weren’t romantically linked. The calling 911, the worry that the CPR would/wouldn’t work, the support of the officer and, in my case, the medical examiner. (We couldn’t find his doctor’s phone number in the cell phone.) The memories sometimes haunt me. I’d like to hope you are not similarly affected but I know better.
I wish I lived closer and could drop off some soup or something. Virtual soup to you, along with air hugs from afar.
Our deepest sympathies. May your memories of Steve bring you comfort and you adjust to this next phase of your life
in May 2022 I lost my husband of 42 years in a very similar manner, except that I was in the same room when he fell dead. The CPR, The EMTs, all for naught! Mine was a sweet and kind man like yours and I miss him every day. Let people take care of you. Gather people who will baby you a little, be patient with you and let you say both good things and bad things about him without judgement! Be patient with yourself as you find your new groove. If none of that fits, ignore this maudlin fan of yours!!!
So sorry to learn of your loss. Steve’s passing is a loss shared by all who have enjoyed your collaborative fiction so very much over the years.
When I read your report of his passing, I immediately thought of the description in “Ghost Ship”of Bechimo’s lift from Surebleak.
“Rootless and astonishing … wings subtle and strong, a white dragon rose through the rabble toward the distant stars.”
Sincere condolences. And that’s pretty much that can be said.
I’m certain Doyle met him at the door to show him the way to the Con Suite.
Sharon, I can’t tell you how much I read that as a nightmare, that the person you love is down, and you try CPR, and fail.
My late wife dropped dead for no reason at 43, and our son, 14 at the time, came home a few hours later from school to find her body. He called me at work, 911… and tried CPR. And it was also too late.
I understand that nightmare. I can only be glad that you had so many years together.
I am so sorry. This sucks. Remember to eat and breathe. I’m praying for you.
Sharon , Steve and your writing has enriched my life with your combined humour and insight into life , love and practicality . I wish you the best in this terrible time and selfishly hope you continue writing :-). If you do not publish , that’s ok too . Be well ( as possible) and I hope you can find some comfort in the arms of the army of fans whose lives you and Steve have touched , we out here will miss him also .
My most sincere condolences. You and Steve have given me so many hours of thought and entertainment since I found your work. Please be well and safe.
I am so incredibly sorry for your loss but glad that he was able to avoid an end he feared. It doesn’t make it easier for the one still standing but I hope you are able to find comfort in the legacy he has left in the worlds you created. So many of us who never had the privilege to meet him in person have still had our hearts touched and lives shaped by what you achieved together. My deepest condolences.