Today, June 21, 2010 is the second anniversary of Steven's tragic death. If you can, please take a moment now to remember who Steven was and how deeply he is missed by each of us.The last time I spoke to Steven, was on the phone,
Tuesday evening, June 17 , 2008.
I didn't know that moment was going to be our last.
The last time I would talk to you, and hear your beautiful voice.
The last time I would tell you that I loved you, and hear you say “I love you too dad”. Strong and so real, so vibrant and alive.
A smiling face, with twinkling eyes, your special smile, my fine young man, my oldest child.The shattered remnant of my heart with holes so black and fathomless no light can ever fill. I am and will be in shock forever.
My three children are my life. It is almost impossible for me to face each day, except for the love of Jessica and Matthew still in my heart to keep me strong.
Time has passed before me, so bleak and dark and long, the wind that whispers through the trees, the brightest star at night, the rain on a dismal day, my endless dreams, nightmares, the constant thoughts, hearing the door bell ringing, seeing the 2 Nassau County Policeman at my door at 4 AM asking me politely if they could come inside, no eye contact from them, I knew and asked them "which one of my children", their response "do you have a son Steven living in San Francisco, he was killed in a car collision". That moment is frozen in my mind, repeating itself endlessly almost every waking and sleeping moment of my life.
The tragic death of Steven was caused by stupid, senseless acts. Every day, each night, my mind is focused on the highway at the collision, looking at Steven’s face while he is alive and then later, he is dead, covered by a yellow tarp on the highway, with his right arm sticking out from under the tarp.
The collision seems less a random act, and more determined, by a series of factors, not so benign, each one a contributing cause of my son’s death.
Steven was killed not by accident, but by horribly connected actions, and inactions, of many others, each building on the impact of the other. Steven’s death began when distinct acts of design and error grew to become the chaos of negligence.
Steven was killed because of a poorly designed highway, outmoded, dangerously engineered for the volume of the Saturday traffic, moving slowly or quickly, to pass or turn.
Steven was killed by the lack of highway signage and the carelessness of a local community program, having a gathering, unaware that their visitors, were parking, turning, clogging this already too narrow stretch of road.
Steven was killed by an army of first responders, Paramedics, Emergency Medical Technicians, Police, Firefighters, and Park Rangers, etc., busy littering the highway with equipment, while they tried to look busy and important.
Steven courageously lived for about an hour after the collision while multiple systems of rescue professionals failed to get my son to the hospital and were unable to properly provide a minimum standard of the medical skills that they were trained to perform.
The first responders missed his airway, suffocating him, vital oxygen crushing against his heart, lungs and diaphragm, taking his breath away, and horrifically killing him.
The responder’s mission, to stabilize Steven for triage care at the Hospital, failed, lost in a few hundred square feet of disorder, with no one in charge, no one leading, standing, telling, helping, shouting, or recognizing the obvious signs of their medical errors.
My son Steven was killed by carelessness, thoughtlessness, and negligence on the part of multiple entities and individuals.
A gifted, talented, precious, irreplaceable, meaningful life was stolen from all of us who loved him deeply, because of the actions of so many who, each in their own way, miserably failed to anticipate and recognize that the consequences of their actions and inactions, benign and not, destroyed Steven’s life.
I promise you Steven that we are doing our very best to obtain justice and accountability for you, in having had your life stolen from you.
My heart is broken, my Steven is gone, and we will mourn forever.
My first-born son, my Steven Nathaniel Wolkoff, so cruelly taken from us at the age of 30 years old.
Steven, I am sorry that I wasn't there to protect you.
I am sorry that it was you and not me.
I never said goodbye.
I will always remember you.
Rest In Peace, my Precious son. Love-Dad
