"86400!” Remembering Stephen E. Cramer
Bob Sleppy
I learned of Stephen Cramer’s passing from a co-worker late yesterday. I considered him a friend and someone I greatly admired. His death brings profound sadness. Stephen was a familiar face at Nuçi’s Space for many, many years. He would often drop into Nuçi’s when he knew Linda would be there. He and Linda would regularly talk and check in with each other. They shared a mutual admiration for one another.
A common topic of conversation was Stephen's vision for a huge fundraising event called Brain Aid. His tireless quest to normalize mental health care and to erase the stigma associated with brain illness became his raison d'être. If your path crossed with Stephen, you would have known about Brain Aid. I am hopeful that one day we can help realize that vision for him.
Stephen and I connected not only on our love of Nuçi’s Space but also on our own struggles with depression and anxiety. Life was not easy for Stephen, but he fought hard. Despite his own demons, he always pushed them aside to help others. He is responsible for connecting so many people with access to care through Nuçi’s Space. He often lost himself in the pursuit to make others whole.
While reflecting on my friendship with Stephen, I recall the day he came into Nuçi’s Space to show us his new tattoo. He held out his arm and pointed to his wrist. The tattoo was of the number 86400, with an exclamation point at the end. Reading the puzzled look on my face, he quickly explained its meaning. To paraphrase his comments, he said, “There are 86400 seconds in every day. I got this as a reminder to make every second count.”
Something that we talk about often when discussing the daunting task of suicide prevention is the concept of just getting the person in crisis to the next day. Because that one day can turn into two days, then a week, then a month, and so on. We start with just one more day.
I am heartbroken to know that Stephen lost his fight with depression. I wish he could’ve fought for just 86400 more seconds, until the sun rose the next morning. I mourn not only for his friends and family but for the people who never got the chance to meet him.
Stephen’s kindness, persistence, and genuine care for others are the legacy I will choose to remember him by. While he was with us, he made every second count. Stephen, you will be missed.
