Steve and Us | 1955-2011
Thursday, October 6, 2011 at 9:58 AM 
UPDATE: I had to pick up some prints in the city this morning and decided to stop by the Apple Store on Ste-Catherine. I've added the pictures below.
I was sitting on the couch, going through Flipboard on my iPad after having put my oldest to bed. I'd just tweeted a story about a possible X200 when I got a reply from my friend Morten Byskov: check #AP.
I didn't get it. I kept on reading. A few minutes later I opened a link to an article that contained an interesting photo. I wanted to save it to my inspiration album — I do this when I find images I want to analyze or just keep around. A banner on the website's home page read: Steve Jobs is Dead. Honestly, it didn't even register. For a few seconds I thought: how rude. And then it hit me.
The previous night I'd sat in bed watching the iPhone 4S unveiling. When Phil Shiller — Steve's longtime keynote demo buddy — walked on stage, I felt a shock. Something wasn't right. I couldn't shake the feeling that he somehow looked devastated and immediately though: Steve's not well and he knows something we don't. Then I dismissed it. Nerves, I thought. A new haircut that makes him look different.
If only.
The fact that less than 24 hours later I didn't immediately accept the news goes to show just how much I clung to denial. Like you do for someone very close.
And that's the thing. In a way we were close. We all are.
Look around you: we're all living in Steve's world. Our daily lives have all been shaped and transformed by his vision and determination. This isn't hyperbole either, it's all there.
It's why we feel so connected. It's why his passing is so personal.
The cynical amongst us saw him as nothing more than a gifted salesman. How sad. Have you ever believed in something so deeply that you made everyone around believe it too? That's never marketing or salesmanship, not at that level. And it's not some reality-distortion field: it's a genuine capacity at being astonished, at being profoundly convinced by the work you've done. Steve saw beauty in Apple's realizations and it was contagious. He was building a future he had envisioned, brick by brick, clearing the road ahead.
Last night the lights dimmed, flickered a little, and the world suddenly felt a bit more lonely.
We lost the one who dared dream for the rest of us.
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Reader Comments (10)
A moving post Patrick. Well said....
A wonderful post man, such feeling
Thanks guys.
Wow bravo Pat un très belle hommage
I'm still in shock. I feel strangely connected to him even though I've never met him. I think his passion and love for what he did made him feel very close.
Great post. Many have written about Steve in the past hours but your post expressed more closely what I was thinking myself.
Merci Martin
Next week I'll be installing IOS5 with a slight tinge of sadness in my heart. It's hard to imagine we'll no longer get to discover Apple's innovations through his eyes and almost childlike excitement.
Truly the end of an era. Thanks for your comment Alexandre.
Indeed, what I loved most about him is that he would be so passionate and determined that he would kill cynicism and get everybody so excited. I tried to express this in my own post about Steve (how could I not make this Friday's post about him? this is all I've been thinking about since the announcement). It feels cheap to link to it here but I'll do anyway if you don't mind: http://dawnofbubbles.com/post/11136031740/goodbye-steve
A very compelling, heartfelt post and images, Patrick.
Thanks Susan