To Stephen, I was "the runt." His mini me. In me, Stephen saw an opportunity to replicate himself. And truth be told he could not have picked a more willing victim. Growing up I idolized him. I thought he was the coolest thing since sliced bread.

He'd come up to me and say, "hey Elisa, do you want to play video games with me? Okay well, I just got to take the trash out. You want to help me and then we can play sooner." Trash, dishes, yard work. It didn't matter. I was the perfect sucker. If it meant I got to hang out with him, I did it.

Everything he was into, I found profoundly brilliant. Star Wars, Wrestling, Jackie Chan movies, Comic Books. I even remember him teaching me to play dungeons and dragons when I was tiny. Playing the part of an enchanted elf, casting magical spells and fighting bad guys.

It wasn't until I was much older that I realized, these things were not actually considered cool by normal standards. Stepping into the reality of high school meant stepping into the reality that Stephen was by all measures a total geek. And not in the era of Big Bang Theory where geekdom is celebrated and valued. Stephen was a nerd through and through.

Though he would want me to take a moment and make sure you all knew that though he was a nerd, he was no treky. Even at the bottom of the food chain, he still had standards.

Quite possibly it was Stephen's shameless geekhood that made him into the man he was meant to be. Anyone who knew Stephen knows that he was neither humble, nor bashful. Stephen always said exactly what he was thinking, when he was thinking it. The man lacked a filter. It was his worst and best quality. It's what made him so unbearably annoying, and so incredibly inspiring.

He never missed an opportunity to make a group laugh at someone else's expense. Whether it was pointing out when mom dribbled food on her blouse, or telling any embarrassing stories about the rest of the family that he could muster up. Growing up at Woodland Church in Drexel Hill, Stephen became quite fond of the George sisters. A group of sisters who were all very tiny in stature. When Stephen got tall, he would stand very close by Ester George's side with a big stupid grin on his face because he knew his height accentuated her shortness.

He was that type of guy. He loved pulling people up short. And he loved proving people wrong. He had a passion for argument. If Stephen could feel himself loosing, he would simply make up statistics to support his stance. And what determined his stance on most subjects was simply that it went against popular opinion. He loved to play Devils advocate. This was absolutely infuriating growing up because Stephen and I shared many flaws, one of which being that we both always felt that we had to have the last word. Often, Stephen would get me riled up, and we would be arguing and mom or dad would tell us to stop. He would always sneak in one more jab under his breath so they couldn't hear it, and I retaliated every time. My dad would yell and me and Stephen would sit there at the end of the table leaning back in his chair and looking irritatingly smug. It made me want to scream!

Along with winning arguments, Stephen had an annoying ability for winning games. He had a tremendous nack for puzzles and a very strategic mind. He was insufferable in trivia. Even if he had to guess, he always seemed to guess right. He could upset the balance of our home when challenging our parents to a game of Settlers of Catan. I'm sure if you asked mom, she could tell you their running tally of how many Catan games she has won against him. A true mark of victory. He loved board games. It is important to note that before he passed, Geoffrey beat Stephen once at Blockus. It is MORE important to note that I beat him twice at Miniature Golf. These are no small feats.

In fact Stephen wouldn't hesitate to identify himself as a competitive mini golfer. Stephen honed his game of put put much in the way that grown men master the game of actual golf. During his last vacation with Geoffrey, Stephen played incredibly well. After tallying up the score, Stephen confidently asked a staff member if there happened to be a course record. Geoffrey was pleased when she informed him that the record was a good 10 swings below Stephen's score.

For Stephen, life was meant to be lived fully. He was a man of passion. Stephen didn't go about things mildly. He had a real go big or go home mentality. Stephen used to gather with his fellow Eagles fans on a Sunday down at the neighbors house. They would pull the big screen TV out on the deck and grill all manor of fabulous foods. The guys couldn't afford season tickets, but that didn't stop them from tailgating every Sunday, no mater how cold. And when the eagles scored a touchdown, you could hear it all the way up the street. Their antics were so bizarre they landed a TV spot on the local news. A highlight in Stephens life to be sure.

Some lesser known facts about Stephen. He had a gift for drawing. I remember spending many hours  of my youth sitting in his room and sketching comic book characters together. He also had a love of cooking, though was very forthcoming that he required a sue chef to do all the chopping and grunt work. Stephen was a walking encyclopedia of movies. You could point to any actor or actress and say, who's that, and he could name almost ever movie they had been in. And once you recognized a movie and said, oh yeah that's it. He would keep listing movie after movie just to show you how far his knowledge stretched. In 2015 he set out to watch 365 movies he had never seen before within the year. And he did it. But he refused to watch any movie made before 1977, because he was convinced that any movie released before Star Wars A New Hope, was not worth seeing.

Whenever the family settled down to watch a movie, Stephen was insistent on choosing what we watched. We often ended up watching one of his favorites. Jurassic Park, Braveheart, Gladiator, Indiana Jones. Without fail 20 minutes into the movie, Stephen was lying on the floor fast asleep.

Its no secret, Stephen was happiest when he was being aggravating. But Stephen the most aggravating thing you have ever done, was leave us.

Because as annoying as you were, you were also the life of our home. Dad couldn't care less about sports, but if you took him to a game, he'd cheer louder than anyone else in the stadium because he knew how much you loved it. You never hesitated to tell us all that you were mom's favorite, and to your credit, she never argued. We all knew that if we wanted mom to cook something, the best way to get it was to have you ask for it. Because mom couldn't resist making what you liked to eat. You asked for Lasagna at least once a week. You insisted that she make it as an appetizer for Christmas. Still waiting for you to win that battle. And I bet it was wonderful to smell the meatballs and sauce cooking the night before you were gone. Because as usual, you were getting your way.

In our later years, Stephen was always intentional to plan times for us to hang out one on one. It either began with a game of mini golf or a movie, and ended over a good meal at a restaurant of your his choosing. In those one on one moments we would talk about everything. Our hopes, our dreams, our fears, and our faith. If I'm honest, Stephen was never sitting comfortably in his understanding of who God was. There were days that he denied belief completely, and other days where he expressed glimmers of hope in Jesus. As most people do, Stephen struggled to reconcile the reality of God in the midst of unmet aspirations, loneliness, and tragedies around the world. And if we are honest, is that not where many of us stand at times? Stephen had a gift for honesty, and vulnerability in those precious shared moments. He knew how to express himself in the now.

In an interview, the famous author J.K. Rowling was asked if she believed in God. When she responded, she expressed that unintentionally, in writing the story of Harry Potter, she ended up writing an allegory of the story of Christ. She stated,  "I think what I believe comes through in my writing. You asked me if I believe in God. I would have to say, yes. But I struggle with it." That interview comes to mind often in the daily grind of life. It's an honest and vulnerable answer. It is true of me, and honestly, I think that it was true of him. Stephen was a man who loved story, he loved to insert himself in it. Lose himself in a battle of good vs evil. At times, like all of us, he didn't know which side he was on. I mean who doesn't think Darth Vader is cooler than Luke Skywalker? But lets be honest, if Stephen were to identify as any fictional character, it would be Han Solo, a scoundrel with a great capacity to love, who was a fierce and loyal friend.

Stephen we are all here to tell you that we love you. And the best part is we know your response through and through.

Somewhere you are answering back confidently. "I know."

Every Christmas throughout Stephens life, mom read Charles Dickens: A Christmas Carol aloud to the family during the Advent season. Upon the Crathets losing their youngest son, the father shares.
"But however and whenever we part from one another, I am sure we shall none of us forget poor Tiny Tim—shall we—or this first parting that there was among us?"

I don't know if Stephen would remember that line. For the most part, every year he slept through mom's annual readings.