Stephen Speaks to His Family

     Uncle Jerry rose to his feet, picked up a fork and his half-full wineglass, and tapped the glass loudly. When everybody quieted down, he said, “A few months ago I got an e-mail about Itzhak Perlman. You know, one of those forwarded things. It seems that Perlman came on stage at Lincoln Center in New York to give a performance and, shortly after he began playing, one of his violin strings broke. Now this is a guy who had polio when he was kid and has to walk onstage on crutches and then undo the braces on his legs so he can sit down. It’s an ordeal for him to make it to his chair and, when his violin string snapped, everyone in the audience thought that they’d take an intermission because it would be another ordeal to put his braces back on, go offstage, have his violin restrung, and then come back onstage.”
     Uncle Jerry paused a moment and took a sip of his wine. “But Perlman didn’t reach down to put his braces back on. Instead, he closed his eyes for a few seconds, then opened them and nodded to the conductor to continue. The conductor was shocked, but Perlman was the boss onstage, and so he picked up where the performance had stopped.” Uncle Jerry smiled and looked over at Stephen. “Perlman then played the remainder of the concert with only three strings, improvising when necessary, until the composition’s end. He got a standing ovation that almost literally brought the house down, but then he quieted the audience and said, ‘Sometimes it is the artist’s job to make music with whatever he has left.’”
     Uncle Jerry put down his glass and said, “It turned out that the story was an urban legend, but the message is, nonetheless, still true and valuable. Sometimes we have to do what we can with what we have left.”
     Uncle Jerry hesitated for a few seconds, and then said, “Has the Santamaria family made music with what we had left? We’ve lost a lot as a family over the years. My brothers John and George. My sisters Anita and Franny. Greg’s beautiful wife, Emily. Sue’s two kids, the twins, Jessica and Wendy, who died in a tragic car accident two years ago.” Uncle Jerry looked at Stephen. “And five years ago, we all thought we lost Stephen.”
     Stephen blushed but remained silent and still. Uncle Jerry reached over and placed his hand on Stephen’s shoulder. “But he came to the reunion. And, from what I’m hearing, he’s done some wonderful things for certainly family members.” Uncle Jerry looked at his nephew James two tables over and winked. “But even if he hadn’t done one single thing for anyone ... and no one expected anything from him ... he’d still be welcomed with open arms here for two reasons. We missed him.” Uncle Jerry squeezed Stephen’s shoulder. “And he’s family.”
     Stephen reached up and squeezed Uncle Jerry’s hand. “Life is short. We all know this. Even if we live to be a hundred ... which as you all know I am planning on doing ...” Uncle Jerry waited for the laughter, and then also waited until it concluded. “Even if we live to be a hundred, it’s only around 36,000 days. That’s it. And a good 12,000 of those days are spent working. And another 12,000 are spent sleeping. So that leaves 12,000 days—assuming you’re healthy every one of those days—to actually live your life. To enjoy it. We missed having Stephen around for the past five years—which is around fifteen hundred days. Fifteen hundred days without him. But I’ll stop bending your ears now and let him speak. He wants to say something to you all and I’ll wrap this up by saying, ‘Welcome home, Stephen.’” He then leaned down and kissed Stephen on the cheek as everyone in the room applauded. Stephen then stood up and moved to the center of the table where Uncle Jerry had been standing.
     When the clapping died down, Stephen looked around the room and said, “Thank you. Thank you all for that warm welcome.” He paused and looked down at the table. When he raised his head, his eyes were glistening. “I don’t deserve that warm a welcome. Not after what I’ve done over the past five years.”
     Uncle Jerry reached up and grasped Stephen’s arm. Stephen placed his hand on his uncle’s, smiled at him, and whispered, “It’s all right. I’m all right.”
     Uncle Jerry nodded and let go of Stephen’s arm. He doesn’t believe me . I can tell from his expression.
     “A little over eight years ago,” Stephen began, “in the summer of 2002, I saw the movie Minority Report with Tom Cruise. I had never read the original story it was based on ... Philip K. Dick wrote it, I think ... but it didn’t matter. I was hooked, and the computer set-up in the movie was what hooked me. The idea of being able to move stuff around in mid-air and have it work on a computer fascinated me. And I wanted to be able to do it.” Stephen took a sip of water and glanced out at his family. They were all attentive and no one—except Uncle Dave—seemed to be frowning.
     “So I asked around and discovered that the technology for that kind of virtual file manipulation existed, but it wasn’t used because it was incredibly costly. There was no affordable way for this technology to exist at a consumer level. Well, I wouldn’t accept that. I already had the software company, and we were pretty successful, but we had never ventured into this kind of unchartered territory. I wanted to give it a shot, though, so I got together my twenty-five best engineers and programmers and told them I wanted to be able to do, on my home computer, at a reasonable price, what Tom Cruise could do in Minority Report.” This got a chuckle from his relatives, as it always did when Stephen spoke before groups.
     “I told them they had unlimited time ... but that I wanted it in twenty-four months ...” Another chuckle. “And I told them they did not have to file reports, hold meetings, or do anything that would detract them from their work. I also told them that all the projects they were each working on would be reassigned to someone else, and I emphasized that this was a very high priority for Orchid Software.”
     Stephen again sipped his water. “And my team delivered. And Zephyr was born. Just out of curiosity, how many of you have Zephyr on your computer?”
     Stephen broke into an enormous grin when at least fifty hands rose into the air. Some of the older aunts and uncles didn’t raise their hands, and Stephen knew that that was because they probably didn’t even own computers, let alone peripherals.
     “Thank you.” The hands went down. “The Zephyr interface was an immediate success. We had six plants going around the clock to meet the demand and, as you all most certainly know, it made me an enormous amount of money. In fact, never in my wildest dreams, when I was a kid playing with cousin Craig and cousin Donna in Aunt Edith’s basement, or tossing a football with my brother Tommy in the front yard of the house on Elizabeth Lane—never did I imagine I would one day be one of those people who are written about in financial magazines and, yes, in the tabloids.”
     Stephen took another sip and looked around over the rim of the glass as he drank. Everyone seemed very attentive to what he was saying. He put the glass down and said, “And then something happened.”
     Suddenly, the room became perfectly silent. It was so quiet, in fact, that Stephen could faintly hear conversation from the restaurant’s kitchen.
     “What happened was that I forgot who I was.”
     Even Uncle Dave is paying attention now.
     “And I forgot what’s important. You.”
     Stephen felt himself tensing up and he took a few deep breaths to calm down. “I don’t know how it happened. I really don’t. But one day I woke up, and five years had gone by, and I hadn’t spoken to, or seen anyone in my family for that entire time. I don’t know how it happened. And I don’t know why I let it happen. Was I afraid everyone would want something from me? Maybe. And that was a major flaw in my personality. I should have known better. I should have absolutely known better.”
     Stephen looked around the room and was suddenly filled with a depth of emotion he found almost impossible to bear, such was its intensity. He saw an array of faces that looked like the face he saw in the mirror.
     “I can never make up for that five years. And I’m sorry about that. But it’s a new day. And I mean that.” Stephen smiled and said, “I really do. And since I don’t know what else to say, I’ll just sit down now and let you finish your dessert. But just remember one thing, and I’m saying this to all of you. I’m a part of this family. And I want you all to forget everything else about me—stuff you read in the paper, or in magazines. Stuff you see on TV. Forget it all and treat me like who I truly am: your nephew, cousin, brother, and son. None of the rest matters.”
     Stephen sat down. And everyone finished their dessert. As Stephen scooped some flan into his mouth, he couldn’t help but notice that Uncle Dave was smiling.

Home

It was Spiro who found Stephen.
And it was Spiro who called 911 and Stephen’s personal doctor.
And it was Spiro who later called Danielle and Jane.

RSVP
                                                                         1
     Stephen Santamaria lay in a hospital bed in the Oregon Health and Science University Hospital in Portland, Oregon, tethered to tubes, wires, and bags.
     Stephen’s Glasgow Coma Score was a 3. This score was comprised of a 1, “no eye opening” on the Best Eye Response Scale; a 1, “no verbal response” on the Best Verbal Response scale, and a 1, “no motor response” on the Best Motor Response scale. A 3 was the lowest Glasgow Coma Score possible.
     Surrounding his bed were six people in white coats. The overhead lights in Stephen’s room were dimmer than usual. A power outage caused by a short in a circuit breaker at a plant that serviced Portland had yet to be repaired and the hospital was running on generators.
     “The patient suffered an acute, catastrophic cerebrovascular incident which immediately resulted in a deep, irreversible coma and a Glasgow of 3. Patient is intubated, catheterized, and being fed enterally. There is no hope for recovery. It will be the family’s decision regarding the duration of life support. Any questions?”
     A tall blonde resident wearing pearl earrings and a 16 inch strand of pearls spoke up. “This is Stephen Santamaria, isn’t it?”
     “Yes, Dr. Rose. And?”
     “Of Orchid Software?”
     “Yes, of Orchid Software. What’s on your mind, Doctor?”
     “Nothing, sir. It’s just that ...”
     “Please do not hedge, Doctor. It’s beneath you. It’s just that what?”
     “Well, it just occurred to me that this guy has billions of dollars. I think he’s the second or third wealthiest person in America.”
     “Yes. Third. And?”
     “And here he is, just another patient. All his money can’t help him one bit.”
     “Yes, Doctor. That is correct. And what has this realization taught you?”
     “To pay closer attention to the Carlos Castaneda quote my mother was always reciting to me.”
     “And what quote was that, Dr. Rose?”
     “Live each day as if it were your last.”
     “Good advice. Any other questions? Yes? You.”
     “If his family removes him from life support, how long will he live?”
     “If they remove his feeding tube and leave the respirator, probably a week to ten days. If they remove his respirator, anywhere from minutes to possible months if his lungs begin to breathe on their own.”
     “So if they remove the respirator and leave his feeding tube and he begins to breathe on his own, he could live a long time?”
     “Yes, but I would advise that both be removed at the same time. The intent with the removal of life support is to allow a natural death. Thus, my recommendation that both forms of support be removed simultaneously. Any other questions? No? All right. Moving on.”

                                                                  2
     “Do you think we should bring him to Connecticut, Dan?”
     Stephen’s sister Jane stared down at her brother and squeezed his hand. Stephen’s eyes were closed and his mouth was open, and the steady beep-beep-beep of his heart monitor could be heard above the noise outside his hospital room.
     “I don’t think so, Jane. Let’s not take him anywhere.”
     “But Connecticut is where he belongs. That’s where he was born and raised. That’s where all his relatives are. You know everyone would want to come and visit him before he ... before he ...” Jane burst into tears and Danielle put her arm around her shoulder.
     “Stephen loves Oregon, Jane. He told me so. And we all know it. And that’s where he should stay.”
     Jane pulled away from Danielle’s touch and, with heartfelt sorrow in her voice, said softly, “But how can he love anything now? He’s been in a coma for three weeks and you were standing right here when the doctor said it was only a matter of time, Dan. Why can’t his family come to see him ... before he goes?”
     “They can come here. They’re more than welcome.”
     Jane laughed humorlessly. “Yeah, right. Uncle Ray and Aunt Edith and the other aunts and uncles and all our cousins are going to hop on a plane to come and visit a relative almost three thousand miles away.”
     “If they were ever going to come, now’s the time.”
     “Dan, are you delusional? No one is going to travel here.”
     “He’s not going to Connecticut,” Danielle said.
     “What about the funeral?”
     “What about it?”
     “It should be in Connecticut,” Jane replied.
     “Jane ....”
     Jane held Stephen’s hand. “It should be. He’s so young. And he had such a good time at the reunion. He was planning on coming to Joyce’s play.”
     Tears started sliding down Danielle’s cheeks. “The reunion was great. Everyone was so happy to see him.”
     Jane nodded. “I know.” She looked at Danielle and asked, “You two had words, didn’t you?”
     Danielle smiled a small, sad smile and said, “Yeah. I tore into him when I first saw him. But then everything was fine.”
     Jane pulled Danielle to the corner of the room. “In case he can still hear us,” she said in response to Danielle’s questioning look.
     “He can’t hear us, Jane. He’s brain dead. The doctors told us that.”
     “Well ... just in case.”
     “What is it?” Danielle asked.
     Jane hesitated a moment before saying, “They want to know if we want to remove life support, Dan.”
     Danielle nodded. “I know.”
     “Well? Do we?”
     Danielle bit her lower lip and Jane saw her trying to hold back tears. “Do we want to? Of course not. But should we?”
     Jane nodded. “Stephen would not want to be kept alive ... like this, Dan.”
     Danielle nodded and said, “I know. When we were young he always would say exactly that whenever we were watching a movie where someone was in an irreversible coma. He’d always say, ‘I’d never want to live like that.’ And I would always make jokes about pulling the plug. I’d always tease him and say, ‘I’ll be happy to pull the plug, little brother. No problem.’ And we’d laugh.” Danielle wiped her eyes. “Who would have ever thought it would actually come true?”
     “So what do we do? They want us to sign something before they’ll do it.”
     Danielle sniffled, blew her nose with a tissue, and said, “So we’ll sign. Stephen deserves that. He may have claimed he was an agnostic, but I know he believed in the life to come.”
     Jane teared up and hugged Danielle and whispered in her ear, “So let’s help him start living his next life.”
     Danielle pulled away from Jane and stared into her bloodshot eyes. “Okay.”
     Jane nodded. “Okay.”

The Washington Tavern & Restaurant

     Stephen stepped out of the limo in front of the Washington Tavern & Restaurant and stood silently in the cool, night air. The darkness was unlike any Stephen had ever seen before. The restaurant was glowing as though from within, yet the surrounding area was inky black. The grounds around the restaurant and the parking lot were clearly visible, but the outlying areas were pitch dark, as though a giant globe of black velvet completely encompassed the setting. Stephen looked up and saw blackness. No stars. He looked at the restaurant and a warm, inviting radiance emanated from its open door and curtained windows. He sniffed. What is that? I can’t tell. It’s nice, though.
     Stephen walked around the limousine to its front and noticed the driver’s seat was empty. Where’s Phil? Didn’t Phil drive me here? Stephen frowned. Who’s Phil?
     He continued to the front of the restaurant and, when he stepped up onto the white porch that wrapped the building, he noticed for the first time that there was a sign hanging above the main double door.
 
                                                        Welcome to
                             The Washington Tavern & Restaurant
                                                         Stephen!
                                      We are delighted you are here!

     “Welcome, Stephen?” They knew I was coming? Stephen took a few more hesitant steps toward the door. And where the hell is everybody?
     He could see inside the building, and he glimpsed tables covered with white tablecloths and set with beautiful china and crystal glasses and, at the back of the first floor dining room, he saw an enormous picture window that stretched the width of the building.
     This place looks familiar. But I can’t remember why.
     As Stephen stood at the open door of the Washington Tavern & Restaurant, he suddenly heard a voice from inside the restaurant saying, “Come in, Stephen. We’re happy to see you.”
     Stephen stepped inside and again caught a whiff of the same scent from outside. Pine? Lemon? Incense?
     He was only inside the lobby for a moment when a woman dressed in a long black gown emerged from what Stephen assumed was an anteroom off the main lobby. She wore a string of pearls, large pearl earrings, and on her dress was pinned a white rose. She stepped up to Stephen and said, “Welcome, Stephen Santamaria. My name is Sedna and I am your maître’d for your visit with us. You are the first to arrive.”
     Stephen smiled politely and said, “First to arrive? For what? I don’t understand.”
     Sedna placed her hand gently on Stephen’s shoulder and said, “Everyone will be here soon and, in the meantime, please enjoy our hospitality.”
      “What are you talking about? Who is everyone? And what is supposed to happen here?”
     Sedna turned and began walking through the dining room toward the picture window looking out onto the velvet darkness. “Hey! Sedna! Where are you going? Should I follow you? What the hell is going on here?”
     Stephen followed Sedna with his eyes and was shocked to see that, as she walked, she was fading; becoming transparent. By the time she was almost to the window, Stephen could see right through her to the darkness beyond. She stopped, turned to face Stephen across the dining room and said, “Be at peace, Stephen. It will begin shortly.” Stephen was amazed that, even though she was at least forty feet away from him, he could hear her as though she were standing right next to him.
      “What will begin shortly?” Stephen asked exasperatedly. “And what am I doing here?”
      “Everyone will soon arrive, so be at peace.”
     That was the last thing Sedna said, and she then turned back toward the window, walked forward a few steps, and vanished.
     Stephen looked around and again got the feeling that the place was familiar, but he couldn’t place it in his memory. What do I do now? Do I go in and sit down? Who’s coming? And what am I doing here?
     As Stephen stood in the lobby deciding what to do, the dim lighting in the dining room began to brighten and Stephen could suddenly see someone sitting at a table by the window, staring out into the darkness.
     That’s Ashley!
     Stephen quickly walked into the dining room and headed for Ashley’s table. As he neared it, Ashley turned and smiled at him. “Hey, you,” she said cheerfully.
     Stephen reached the table, sat down next to Ashley, and kissed her on the forehead. “Hi, Ash. Jeez, it’s good to see you. Tell me, what are we doing here? And what are we waiting for?”
     Ashley stroked her favorite cousin’s cheek with the back of her hand and said softly, “For someone so smart, sometimes you’re a little slow on the learning curve, Stevie.”
     Stephen grinned and said, “What do you mean, Ash? I’m not following.”
     Ashley smiled and said softly, “We’re here because we both died, Stephen. Don’t you remember? Uncle Dave told you I had leukemia—AML—when you saw him. Remember? At the reunion? Shortly after you returned home to Oregon following the reunion, you had a very serious stroke.” Ashley gazed into Stephen’s eyes. “You died first, Stephen, but I wasn’t far behind you.”
     Stephen’s eyes widened and he suddenly remembered everything. “Right ...” he said slowly. “I do remember him telling me that. Oh, Ashley, I’m so sorry.”
     Ashley giggled and said, “It’s all right, Stephen. Really. It’s fine. We’re both fine. And now we’ll just enjoy ourselves while we wait for it to begin.”
      “For what to begin, Ashley?”
     Ashley grinned and tweaked Stephen’s nose. “The family reunion, you silly. Everyone will be here soon, and then we’ll all be together. The whole family. Forever.”
     Stephen felt a sudden rush of joy and peace flood through him and he embraced Ashley. She hugged him back, and then broke the embrace, grasped his face between her hands, said, “Look,” and then turned Stephen’s face toward the window.
     Stephen gasped and laughed aloud. The darkness was now gone and, through the window, Stephen saw the most glorious vista he could have possibly imagined. A boundless cerulean sky, a magnificent aqua sea, and a surrounding shore rich with verdant green trees and a carpet of flowers.
     Stephen felt tears well up in his eyes and he turned to Ashley and said, “Everyone will be here?”
     Ashley nodded and rubbed Stephen’s shoulder. “Yes, honey. And you’ll feel much better in no time at all. You never had time to prepare to die, Stephen. You had a sudden, massive stroke and it wasn’t long before you were on life support. Those kinds of transitions always leave one feeling muddled and adrift. I knew what was coming for me, so I had time to accept it, and to prepare for it. Your crossing was a shock. But you’ll be fine.”
     Stephen nodded and wiped his eyes with his fingers. He sniffled and said, “Thanks, Ash. He then looked around the empty room and said, “Who do you think will be here next?”
     Ashley shrugged and said, “No idea. I guess it’ll be a surprise. Emily’s around here somewhere. I’m sure we’ll see her later. The twins, too. And just before you arrived I was with Aunt Franny and Uncle John. But it doesn’t really matter, because eventually, everyone will be here. In the meantime, want to go for a walk?” Ashley gestured through the window and Stephen could see a lovely cobblestone path lined with flowers running alongside the sparkling water.
      “We can do that?”
     Ashley stood up, laughed, and said, “Of course. Family reunions are meant to be fun. Let’s go.”
     Ashley grabbed Stephen’s hand and, the next thing he knew, they were walking along the shore, watching the undulating water and smelling the fragrant flowers that bordered the path. As they walked, Stephen smiled and joyously took in the unimaginable beauty surrounding him.
     Suddenly he stopped walking and pointed toward an array of flowers and gleefully said, “Look, Ash.”
     Ashley looked where Stephen was pointing. She then turned and looked at her cousin with a quizzical expression on her face.
     Stephen grinned and said, “Who would have ever thought there’d be orchids?”

                                                               EPILOGUE
​
                                                    Weekly Earnings Report
                 Orchid Continues to Bloom in Year Following CEO’s Death

NewsWorld Wire, November 15, 2011: In the year following the sudden, tragic death of Orchid Software CEO Stephen Santamaria, the company continued its record-breaking growth and branched out into several new overseas markets.

New Orchid CEO James Santamaria reported today that Stephen Santamaria’s estate had been settled but declined to release specific numbers as to the size of the late entrepreneur’s wealth. Santamaria was widely credited as being the third wealthiest man in America, although he never confirmed or denied the size of his holdings and assets.

“Orchid has always been a privately-held company and I’m not going to talk about Stephen’s will or his final wishes,” Santamaria said in a statement. “I will say this, though. Stephen’s will, which was completely revised following a very meaningful family reunion he attended a month before his death, took care of his family. All of his family. And I will also say that, now that everything has been settled, Orchid Software may very well have the largest roster of owners of any privately-held company in the world. And every owner proudly carries the last name of Santamaria.”