Leonid Kotov (3L) and Gigi Van Leeuwen (3L)
After a big night out, I wake up to find my friend Stefan, a big 6’4” mountain of a man, asleep with only half his body fitting on my couch. He opens his eyes and stretches out, awkwardly trying to avoid tipping over both the couch and himself. He asks me what time it is. As soon as he hears it is 9:30 in the morning, he jumps up and shuffles to put on his shoes. Turns out, he has a final presentation to deliver to a non-profit he has been advising all year—in half an hour. Suddenly, with an exhalative “Noooooooo!”, he realizes he is wearing a T-shirt and jeans from the night before. His suit and dress shoes are in Thornhill, and time is quickly running out. Somehow, he manages to get to Downsview station, pick up his suit, get to Rotman, and deliver a killer presentation. The non-profit company is ecstatic with the findings and thanks him profusely. This story is one of the many, almost daily examples, of the paradox that was our dear friend Stefan Djordjevic.
For those who didn’t know him personally, Stefan was an incredibly bright mind, the captain of Canada’s men’s water polo team (who won silver at the Pan Am Games), and an unapologetic Darwinian. Stefan always lived for the moment. He never dwelled on the past or worried about the future. He was unrelenting in his pursuit of adventure, and if you ever dared to resist, a barrage of “Why Nots?” would fly your way.
Unfortunately, when a star shines too bright, it burns out before its time. Stefan passed away on August 8, 2015. There is nothing to be said of a talent like this being extinguished at the young age of 27, except that it is not fair. It’s not fair that he will never get to graduate with us. It’s not fair that he won’t go on to climb to the very top of whatever career he would have chosen. It’s not fair that he won’t have his own little Michael Phelps/Einstein hybrids. It’s not fair that we will no longer have our big bully brother to give us difficult, but always-honest advice.
On August 8, we lost a son, a brother, a friend, a captain, a scholar, a party animal, and an inspiration. Although tragic, Stefan wouldn’t want us to sulk over what has happened. Instead, he would want us to live our lives with the same ambition and passion that fuelled his daily existence. He would want us to always maintain an insatiable appetite for knowledge that lies at the heart of human ingenuity.
The beautiful disaster that was Stefan’s life will leave a lasting mark on everyone he touched. The one common theme of every eulogy given at his memorial service was that he inspired us all. He inspired us to work harder, always question, and constantly reach further to achieve our infinite potential.
To the man who refused to stop a game of squash even with a dislocated shoulder: you will be missed, you will be celebrated, and we promise you will never be forgotten.
