I found this...

I found this when I was going through files on my 'puter:

It seems to me that I’ve had to deal with death a lot in the last month or two. First with September 11 and Nicole…then a couple of days later when Uncle Nick passed away…I received an e-mail in October from someone that wanted to talk to me about Nicole for a project he’s doing on the passengers of Flight 93. Then yesterday I get a text from Wade that Barry, his dad, passed away on his (Wade’s) birthday, November 1.

If I say that I’m tired of thinking about death and losing people, that wouldn’t even begin to scratch the surface of what I’m going through right now. I guess I’d forgotten how much it hurts when you first learn someone you care about has died.

As I sit here typing, this is the first time I’ve had to process that fact that Barry has died. I do not know the details as I’ve not spoken to Wade yet. We’ve only exchanged texts. But it’s almost like I don’t want to talk to him because then he’ll say out loud what I already know. And as much as I knew this day was coming, maybe if Wade doesn’t say it…well maybe it’s not true.

Okay so I talked to Wade for a second. For once in 23 years, I do not know what to say to him. I tell him I'm sorry I didn't call him sooner and I tell him that I hadn't seen this beginning of his text. Then I just sit there, sniffling, and mumble something like "I can't believe I don't even know what to say."

The last time I saw Barry was over Memorial Day weekend when I went down there and stayed for a week. He looked good. We sat like we always did and talked. I loved Barry since the first time I met him when I was 18 years old. He was a character, to say the least, with a twinkle in his bright blue eyes...the same ones he passed on to his son, Wade.

I wrote that on November 5, 2010. Barry had been gone for only 4 days. It's now April 10, 2011. So it's been roughly 5 months and 9 days...161 days...3,849 hours...230,400 minutes...13,824,000 seconds.

You know I really miss Barry. I miss talking to him and his stories about when he was married to Susan and when he was young living in Mexico with his Sugar Momma. I miss the comfort of knowing that even if Wade was mad at me or I hadn't talked to the Stevers in years, I'd always have a home in Pismo Beach to go to...all I had to do was just walk around to the back patio through the iceplants, hop the fence and knock on the back door because Barry'd always let me in. Whenever I'd say goodbye to him, he'd always ask me "Where are you going?" before hugging me. And I'd answer "I've got to go home, Barry." To which he always replied "But you are home." No matter how much time had passed between us, the Stevers always made me feel at home. And I love them for that.

About 2 years ago when I was in Pismo Beach visiting, Wade and I were sitting in the garage talking about Barry. I was telling him how Barry was telling me about the little Mexican senorita he'd fallen in love when he was in his 20s and lived in Mexico with his Sugar Momma and about how much he loved to surf. Wade chuckled as he told me "You know what, Linda? If there was a way for Barry to surf and keep his cigarette lit, he'd still be out there everyday...surfing, smoking and pulling hot Mexican chicks. That's the only reason he's still not doing it...his cigarette won't stay lit."

I'm really miss you, Barry J. Stever. I really do.