I was married to my husband, Steven Paul Waxman, for over 25 years. He was the kindest, gentlest, sweetest person I ever knew. For somebody who was big, loud and usually over-the-top, it didn't seem like the inside matched the outside, but in Steve the two parts meshed into one great guy.
He had many friends who miss him very much. You see, he was always thinking of others. He didn't just mow our lawn, he did the whole block. He didn't just tell somebody he was their friend, he showed it. As a SEPTA bus driver, he helped the new drivers in the depot settle in. The passengers on his bus actually looked forward to going to work. He told jokes and made the trip fun. When he died, the local Roxborough area newspaper did a half-page article on how the passing of a person who simply drove through the neighborhood each day could affect it so profoundly. A passenger penned a poem about Steve that ends:
I don't take the bus to work no more…it's not the same.
Maybe he'll greet me at the door…on the shuttle to eternity.
Steve felt very strongly about organ donation. If there would have been a way for him to donate all his organs and still be alive, he'd have done it. After his death, organ donation was Steve's final gift to a friend he had never met.
I know that I'll never meet another person like him. You only get one chance with someone that perfect. I've kept this square simple. Like Steve. Honest and true and…my forever love.