Years ago my business partner at Red Sky, CEO Tim Smith, used to tell a story about having met Steve Jobs in a most unusual, almost comic, situation. Tim has, after all these years, felt the pull to write it for posterity, or therapy maybe.It’s a great read. If you’re a bit stunned at the loss of Steve Jobs you will appreciate it as I did.
I never met Steve. I always thought I would some day, egoist I am. The man shaped the lives and careers of so many of us, and we (I) invested so much of who we are in him. He played such a central role in our days.
But as I sit here and write this I feel a tugging that I recall having only once before. And although it was understandably quite a lot stronger and more personal then, I recognize the feeling. It happened on the morning my grandmother, my father’s mother, passed away.
I drove to be with my grandfather and we spent the day together alone in their house. It was an emotional day, her presence was everywhere. But the most poignant moment came when the two of us sat down and, in thick silence, ate a slice of fresh pie that my grandmother had made only the day before. Her fingerprints were in the crust.
Nothing had been said before, or subsequently, that was ultimately more emotionally meaningful to me than that moment. The feeling washed over me as I realized simultaneously – that she was gone forever, but how fresh and delicious the pie was.
It was a strange, ghostly feeling – both utterly empty and yet full of meaning.
I guess sitting here, writing this now, I feel something similar that must be playing out in so many ways all over the world tonight.
I usually delete the following… but not today.
Sent from my iPad.