We are the lucky ones.

Our grandparents remember where they were when they heard about Pearl Harbor.

Our parents remember where they were when they heard about JFK's assassination.

We remember where we were when we heard about 9/11.

All of these were pinnacle, jarring moments in contemporary American history. They were memorable because they meant something more than loss of life or war. They were occurrences that shattered our sense of security, our symbols of freedom or strength or power. That, in a way, is why I think I will always remember where I was when I heard about the passing of Steve Jobs. Not the complete details of the time or place or people I was near like I remember from 9/11. But where I was both in my life and in my extremely distant relationship with him.

In part, I'll remember where I was with Steve because my respect and admiration for him had recently reached its peak. Just a few weeks before, I was reading Wall Street Journal and Daily Telegraph feature stories made up of Steve's many unintentional mantras and isms. In fact, I finished my third journal from college life, a symbolic step of transition into my big girl shoes, by transcribing several of those quotations in the back. My emotional investment in him had been growing exponentially since I got my first Mac product probably a decade ago only to reach this expected and yet still horrible loss.

I've always been fascinated with Steve Jobs because he was a renegade and he made products that we don't just want, need or use. They are products that we cohabitate with, that are fully integrated into our lives in a way unlike any other:

The iPod is where many of us go to escape or distract ourselves; It's where we go to listen to music and books, to free ourselves from reality even if that reality is just the banging of our feet on the pavement during a mid-afternoon jog.

The MacBook and Powerbooks and the rest of their families, they've fed our curiosity, efficiency and creativity. They've made our lives easier and enabled us to be more complex.

The iPad - where do we even begin? Do you remember how the bloggers were snickering at how mesmerized everyone was by it? Do you remember how they made fun of the name and questioned its relevance? Today, our doctors use them, our President uses one, and as I write, education institutions from pre-kindergarten to graduate schools are using them. They have changed our world.

And sure these are just products. Just things. But each of them embodies the same values that made Steve so successful and great. The same values he espoused and lived for. The same values that he wants us to live for too.

This brings me to my other point. I will never forget where I was when Steve Jobs finally succumbed to pancreatic cancer. I will never forget how perfect it was. I had been talking so much about how much I had grown up in the past few months. You know - the new city, the new job, the new friends and new responsibilities. I had been so wrapped up in how scary and challenging it has all been and how I have consequently become more adult and more myself because of it. But then Steve died. This man, this spirit who has unknowingly carried the torch for my evolution into the best version of myself, was gone. And I couldn't bare to hear the news even though I had never met him. I was overwhelmed with sadness and in a way I felt lost.

It was a ridiculous reaction for someone so adult to have. But almost 24 hours later, I'm realizing that it's because I know in my heart that I'm not all the way there yet. I've read his words, I've internalized his lessons and I've let him inspire me. But I'm not all-the-way Steve. I have been so impacted by his passing because I thought I'd be able to pull myself together before he left us. I thought that he would leave and I would be okay with the world because I knew that at least I had come to embody his view of the ideal being and the ideal life. But I was wrong, so I've taken it upon myself to look at it all from a different perspective.

Steve's passing came at the perfect time because it was right about when I was getting complacent. When I was starting to look away from myself and back at my external circumstances, forgetting that it's my responsibility to be who I am and become the person I know I should be. I wish that I could honor Steve's death by revamping my collection of Apple products so I can further evangelize his genius to the masses by flaunting his gadgets. But unfortunately, I only have enough money to my name to split the cost of a pre-ordered hard copy of the Steve Jobs biography with my dad. The good thing however is that I don't think that's necessarily what Steve wanted me to be doing anyway.

Steve wanted me... he wanted all of us to be the branches of the tree he so humbly planted in our minds and in our hearts. He wanted us to share the love, the curiosity and the intellect for betterment and advancement, not just for the sake of knowing and doing things. He wanted us to live the same values that his brand embodies, but instead of in the technological landscape, he wanted us to do it in the rest of the world. He wanted us to be more than good, more than great. He wanted us to be extraordinary. And not because he was overly optimistic, idealistic or stuck in clouds of riches and fame. It was because he knew that he was just another guy with creativity and ideas, who was unique because he was bold enough to implement them. And he was so humble that he told us that if he could do it, we could do it to.

You got to where you were because you took the time to know yourself. And every day, you challenged the person you were in the moment to become the better version you knew you could be. We know you felt lucky for how much you were able to accomplish. We know you felt lucky for how people welcomed you, your ideas and your products into their lives. But, Steve, we are the lucky ones. We are the ones who you welcomed into your world and we will forever be compelled to be better because of it.

Thanks for everything.