Steve Hancock: In Memorium

Carl Jung, the father of Archetypal psychology said: “We are so convinced that death is simply the end of a process that it does not ordinarily occur to us to conceive of death as a goal and a fulfillment, as we do without hesitation the aims and purposes of youthful life in its ascendance.”

It is my greatest honor to give the eulogy for my best friend, Steve Hancock. But he was also tom's best friend and Dean's and others. But more importantly, when you were with Steve he made you feel as though you were HIS best friend. A few days before Steve left us, Brenda and Maureen Collins and I were sitting by his bed, while Steve danced between this world and the next and when he returned to this world his eyes would open and his beautiful smile spread across his face. That smile was the clue to what Steve was all about. On August 15, 2006 our beloved friend, Steve Hancock, left this life for a new adventure, leaving his family and friends with more gifts than we could possibly carry. My intent here is not to describe the gifts Steve left us with, we all individually know that, but rather the gifts his pancreatic cancer brought to him. I joined him on his three year journey with his disease possibly in a different way than others who were equally close to him.

Steve Hancock was many things, but to his closest friends he was pure sweetness, pure joy. Steve would allow Tom, Dean and myself into his central core, for he never needed a defense while with us. Stevie surrounded that core of pure unprocessed sweetness with a bravery, a strength, a loyalty, a sense of responsibility, a patriotism and a tenacity that most of us could only aspire to. Many saw his toughness and thought that it was his toughness that kept him in the battle for three years. And it did, but his toughness had a goal. That goal was to dig and dig until it revealed to Steve that core sweetness that drove everything else. As his cancer progressed and his body withered, Steve’s understanding of himself blossomed. He used to refer to himself as Mr. Defense, and traces of it remained, as when he’d squirt cologne into the full-on blower of his car’s air conditioner, forcing those riding with him to crank down the windows. But as his attention turned more and more toward himself he came finally to understand that there was nothing to defend against.

Steve’s cancer brought him physical limitations, which were difficult to witness for all of us that loved him, but again, as his physical powers diminished his self insight grew. Steve was not a big man, if one measures a man by his size, but Damn, was he strong. There was no one I’d rather have “taking my back” in a tough situation. It was difficult for him to acknowledge the loss of his strength and yet he was willing to accept it as long as what he called “The Inner Gifts” kept coming.

“Billy,” he said. “I know people wouldn’t understand this, but my cancer is the best thing that could have happened to me.” He paused for a moment and with that beautiful smile of his added, “Except for Brenda, of course.” God! How he loved Brenda. A few days before his death we argued about whether there was a song named Brenda. I later realized that Steve believed there was because to him Brenda was a song. We talked of death and for Steve it was not to be feared. What Steve feared most was how his family would fare without him. Responsibility was a strong belief in Steve; held as a truth above all others, even above loyalty and courage. They were his path markers throughout his life and they guided him well. What his cancer taught him, amongst many other things, is that his path markers were not necessarily everyone elses path markers.

He began to allow others their choices and as he did he drew to himself his own acknowledgment through the visible affection heaped upon him by friends and strangers alike. People came out of the woodwork to thank him for how he had touched their lives. The more he talked about these things the more Steve approached the realization that there was nothing about himself that was unacceptable. He grew more at peace even while his cancer ravaged his powerful body. The sugar, the furnace that fired him and drove all else, was making itself known to Steve Hancock.

People were drawn to Steve because he carried for them those aspects of themselves they feared to openly express. Steve could make you laugh when you thought you were ready to cry, and he loved to sing. Boy, did he love to sing. Nothing would keep him from breaking out in song. His favorite (next to The Star Spangled Banner) was “Only You” the 50’s classic, and he crooned it as beautifully to the 90 year old woman at the Manchester Turkey Day Race as he did to a group of 20 somethings at the Mohegan Sun. They giggled and wondered if Steve wanted to be paid. Tommy laughed and said, “Hell, ladies. He does it because he loves to see you smile.”

Steve wondered sometimes – as we all do – what people thought of him. “Billy," he once asked, “Do you think people only see me as a song and laugh man?” He needed to know that he mattered, that he made a difference. God, did he matter. But, I told him that what mattered most is what he thinks of himself. Steve Hancock left an indelible mark on all those who drew him into their lives; some for just the briefest of moments, and others like me and Dean and Tom, who needed so much more from him. Randy Collins, who Steve loved like a son, wears Steve's Saint Jude medal around his next as he fights for freedom as a marine in Iraq. Few understood the significance of that gesture. It brought Steve home safely from Vietnam nearly forty years ago.
Toward the end we shared what each of us carried for the other as though we were each one side of the same coin. This was something we didn’t or couldn’t do before cancer entered his life and mine and yours too.

Steve gravitated to battles, whether they be in Vietnam or a 26.2 mile race. You are the man, Steve, and WE thank you for the light you shined upon all of us.How beautifully typical that this Marine’s Marine would choose such a battle to get to his own golden sugar.

And so the sugar ROSE and ROSE until all one could see of Steve was pure sweetness. It outweighed his strength, which he carried to the end. It outweighed his sense of responsibility, which finally relinquished him so he could go. It outweighed his courage, which kept those who knew him in awe. But more than anything else, his sweetness- that was always known to everyone else – at last revealed itself to Steve. At death, Steven Hancock finally knew about himself what all of those he temporarily left behind had always known. Above all those things that our culture holds dear; things like courage, responsibility, loyalty Steve at his core was sweetness.

Now, at this point I thought I had finished Steve’s eulogy, written the day after he departed. I needed to run, as it is that space in which I find my own peace. I headed out my back door and into the woods and then into the Norwich industrial park. My head and heart was filled with Steve. As I passed Dodd Stadium I invited Steve along for the run, not by my side but as part of my own spirit, and as I asked, a wave of pure joy filled me and I gasped. It was not a gasp of sorrow, but rather a gasp of knowing joy. Steve was with me.

I ran further and felt a rush of pure thought that formed itself slowly into words. I know as surely as I know that I am standing here that it was Steve telling me something. His words came and filled my mind. They were meant for Steven, Michelle and Derrick. I realized then that I had left them out of Steve’s Eulogy and he was telling me what he wanted to say to them. These are his words that I felt on that run:

Dearest Steven, Michelle and Derrick,
I have left you a treasure chest full of me. There was a time when I felt it my responsibility to pick out of that chest for you. What I say to you now is this: Choose freely from my chest and use what suits your own natures, not mine. Some of what I have left you may serve you, some may not. I set you free to be who you are, and who you are I love oh so well.

That, my friends, is who Steve Hancock is. PURE SWEETNESS!



Now, try to bring Steve into focus, because if he could give his own eulogy this would be it.

by the Platters
Only you can make this world seem right
Only you can make the darkness bright
Only you and you alone
Can thrill me like you do
And fill my heart with love for only you

Only you can make this change in me
For it's true, you are my destiny
When you hold my hand
I understand the magic that you do
You're my dream come true
My one and only you

Only you can make this change in me
For it's true, you are my destiny
When you hold my hand
I understand the magic that you do
You're my dream come true
My one and only you