Peter Johnston PJ Stephens

The other night, as I was washing my hands at the sink and getting lost in my thoughts as I usually do, I faintly heard my Uncle Peter's voice. "Libby… Oh, Libby dear!" It seemed far off in the distance and although I could feel the grief churning up inside me, I leaned into the sound of his call. As I closed my eyes the grief began to shift into acceptance and that acceptance turned into a feeling of elation that I knew was Peter. I could hear my grandmother telling Peter it was working and to, "try calling her [me] again." And again, I heard Peter's call, a little closer this time. And then the one-of-a-kind bombastic laugh that only Peter Stephens could make, rang in my head and in my heart. I suppose Nanny was giving Peter a tutorial on how to use the spirit phone to reach me. Peter, my heart hurt because I missed you but you seemed so happy. The image I see every-time I think of you is you walking through the front door of Nanny's place in Hilton Head. I see Nanny greeting you and you wrapping her in your arms. I hear my Mom warmly say, "Hey Pete!" as she steps out from the nearby guest room, ready for a long-awaited embrace. You're wearing a Brooks Brothers navy blue blazer and a yellow shirt, dress slacks, and shiny shoes. The air smells like a mix of my mom's hairspray, your cologne, and the cypress trees. The room is a comforting glow thanks to the pink South Carolina sunset that dances through the windows. I imagine this is how my Mom and Nanny welcomed you home when you reached the pearly gates of Heaven. I also imagine you recounting your journey into the light to join them in true Peter Stephens fashion. I could always count on Peter to remember the family stories and I never thought twice about asking him to tell them to me again. He loved storytelling and I loved to listen. Peter was the one who taught me about the history of Champagne when I was 17 and the history of the architecture of one of my favorite restaurants in Hilton Head. He always had some tidbit of knowledge to share. Peter's love of language and words was infectious and from the time I was young, I knew that if Uncle Peter spoke highly of something I had written, then I was certain to earn an A. I think of the story he told me shortly after my Mom passed. It was about the time the two of them hung towels from the chandelier in the entryway of the house they'd moved to in Pittsburgh. Peter said it had belonged to the former owner who also happened to be Granddad's boss at the time. Apparently the Boss' wife kept telling everyone what a wonderful price they had given our family on the house and that they had EVEN given us the priceless chandelier! Nanny finally remarked one evening how hideous she thought the chandelier was and that it looked like a towel rack. I can still hear Peter's laughter as he recounted the prank and seeing Nanny's face when she came home one day to find towels hanging from it! It was one of the funniest things I'd ever heard and it helped me forget my grief for a moment. I can't help smiling as I wonder what sorts of pranks Peter and my Mom may pull now that they're reunited on the other side. I also think of the poinsettia he'd send every holiday and how every Christmas evening, my Mom would already be writing her thank-you notes because there was a long-standing competition between her and Peter regarding who would get theirs finished first. I think of the first Christmas after Nanny passed away and how my Mom became sick and had to be put in a medically induced coma. I remember talking to Peter on the phone and him telling me not to worry about trying to contact everyone, that he would handle it. I felt so overwhelmed and he knew it. I remember him sincerely thanking me for taking care of my mom and keeping him, "abreast of the situation." I recall shortly thereafter receiving a gift card from him to one of my favorite stores. I later found out he had called my Dad to double-check because he wanted to be sure to get me something I would like. It was an effort I greatly appreciated. Along with the gift card was a note explaining that it was just a little something to say thank you and acknowledge all the hard work I had put in looking after my Mom. He said it was so I could go treat myself once things were back to normal. It was such a kind gesture and it truly meant so much to me. I remember the summers when we'd get to see Peter in Orlando and the time he brought us to this fancy Hawaiian themed dinner where there was fire dancing. It was truly SO Peter and I loved every minute of it. I also recall his love of music and the one summer when he drove my mom and I to the Savannah Airport in a fancy Cadillac. I remember he was playing Josh Grobin and singing along to it. It wasn't necessarily my style of music but I enjoyed how enthusiastic he was and listening to him sing. This reminds me of the story my Mom would tell of how Uncle Peter had perfect pitch and couldn't stand next to Granddad in church because he loved to sing too but was completely tone-deaf and it hurt Peter's ears. I imagine Granddad's singing has gotten better in Heaven and I smile thinking of that heavenly reunion as well. I'm sure Peter has already organized multiple soirées by now and gotten to know practically everyone on the other side. My Uncle was a man I considered to be larger than life. A true Leo. I can't imagine a world without him, but then I remind myself that he is still here. He lives on in the memories and through the kind actions and good deeds of others whom he so greatly influenced and inspired. I love you Uncle Peter. Always have. Always will.