Seconds after Stephanie Michelle Garst came into this world on September 26, 1993, she grabbed her father Ed's thumb so tightly that he never let go. That grip — fierce and gentle all at once — was Steph in a single moment. She was the daughter of Ed and Doreen Garst, big sister to Eric, and from the very start, our precious gem.
"She was like a little girl in a woman's body. So much glee, happiness, and excitement."
If Ed wasn't working, they were together — the Three Musketeers, then the Four Amigos. Saturday laundry runs, Sunday supermarket trips. She never asked for much. But every Sunday, without fail, she wanted one little ring from the gumball machine before they left. That was Steph. Simple joys. Steady love.
She was never scolded, never in trouble, never complaining. Her "worst acts" were losing a sweater at a birthday party, misplacing her phone in exotic places, or accidentally tossing her ATM card in the McDonald's trash miles from home. That was their angel.
Eight years of basketball. Varsity. All-Star team. A player so gifted an Olympic trainer stopped mid-session to marvel at her speed. An NBA champion once sat beside her dad at a game — even he was stunned she was only a freshman.
At UCF she joined a sorority built around giving back. She spent part of a summer in Haiti doing medical relief. She held people through their darkest hours. She was the person everyone leaned on — and she never once said no.
From New York to Florida to Pensacola to Knoxville to Salt Lake City — Steph kept moving forward. Every new city was a new chapter. She found her people everywhere she went, and she made every place feel warmer for having been there.
EMT. Lab specialist. Cancer research coordinator. Mental health study coordinator. Steph spent her career doing the hardest work there is — sitting with human suffering and trying to ease it. She gave her whole self to her patients.
"Steph lit up the room when she entered. She knew how to get along with everyone." She had nicknames for the whole family. Momma Bear. Pops. BroBro. She made every single person she met feel loved, welcome, and important.
On May 21, 2025, in Italy, Steph married her greatest love, Will. The wedding of her dreams. Their families together under the Italian sun. She was radiant. She was home. She was Mrs. Wilcox.
After one game, Steph looked up at her dad and said: "I could've played better. But I felt like some of the girls on the other team were struggling, so I didn't go all out." That was her game. That was her life.
She made varsity as a freshman, got dropped to JV when parents complained, never said a word, and just played harder — until her play spoke for itself. Against powerhouse Mount Vernon: 10 assists in the first quarter, 10 points by halftime. Back on varsity.
In a playoff game in Jupiter, an opponent shoved her into the bleachers in frustration. Steph got up, calmly tied her hair back, and sank both free throws.
She played her final high school game starting at center in an All-Star matchup — a position she’d never played before. She dominated the boards anyway. That was always the way with Steph.
"She had this amazing talent of making anyone feel loved, welcome, and important. She got me through so many dark times." — Rachel, her soul sister and best friend
Every job Steph ever took was in service of someone else. She biked to Jimmy John's and Applebee's. She saved every dollar from her first summer job to buy her own car. She worked political campaigns, EMT shifts, and research labs. She never stopped building.
Her social studies teacher saw her potential and recommended her for a summer job. She opened a bank account and saved every dollar that summer.
Two miles by bike to her first Florida job. Two jobs at once, biking home in the dark — that was Steph's work ethic from the very start.
Famously stayed until 2 AM meticulously folding and organizing — Ed spotted her car, flagged a mall cop to check on her. She was fine. Just thorough.
Canvassed neighborhoods, went door to door, played an active role in a winning campaign. She could do anything she set her mind to.
911 calls. Cardiac arrest. Strokes. Overdoses. Steph ran toward the hardest moments, calmly and fearlessly, every single shift.
Moved west for a role maintaining quality standards in immunology testing — precision work that demanded everything she had.
Clinical research. Phlebotomy. ECGs. IRB and FDA compliance. Every protocol followed meticulously. Every patient seen as a person.
Advancing cancer research at one of the nation's premier institutes. She helped build the protocols that would protect patients she'd never meet.
Clinical Research Coordinator for Pediatric Immunology and Stem Cell Transplant. For the littlest patients. Always for the ones who needed it most.
Steph’s final role was perhaps her most courageous. She dedicated herself to the front lines of mental health research, working directly with individuals in crisis to help the University of Utah and Huntsman better understand the complexities of the illness. Despite her own deep anxieties, she walked into the dark with them to gather the insights that might one day save others. It was research in service of a cure. Always for others. Right to the end.
"If love could have saved me, you surely would have. You were the greatest thing to ever happen to me." — Steph, to Will
Steph married Brendan Wilcox — her Will — in Italy on May 21, 2025. The wedding of her dreams. Her family around her. The Italian sun. Her dad texting her that morning: "Morning precious gem — so proud of you. Love you."
She had laughed at his "I got you a replacement phone, just kidding" joke the morning after. She texted back with a laughing emoji. She had just married the love of her life. She was radiant. She was Mrs. Wilcox. She was home.
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"From the very start, Steph and I had an everlasting bond. Seconds after she was born, before she was even cleaned up, she grabbed my thumb so tightly. From then on, she was our precious gem... She was never scolded, never in trouble, never complaining. That was our angel."
"Steph lit up the room when she entered. She knew how to get along with everyone. She had nicknames for all the family — I was Momma Bear, Ed was Pops, and Eric was BroBro. What I'd give to hear her say these words again. I wish she knew how everyone loved her. I wish she could've seen herself through my eyes — a bubbly, lively burst of energy and light."
"Steph was a protective, passionate, and deeply caring soul who always put others before herself. Her genuine compassion shone through in every moment, from her love of family and sports to acts of kindness for strangers in need. Though her absence is a painful reality, her spirit and selfless love will echo in the hearts of all who knew her."
"Stephanie, my twin flame, my soul sister, my unicorn twin, my everything... The day I met you, I had no idea how much my life would change. You showed me what true friendship and unconditional love really was. There will forever be a unicorn shaped hole in my heart. I'll never be the same without you. Rest easy now, sweet girl. I love you forever and always 💜🕊️"
"She was my best friend, my partner, and the love of my life. Her kindness, her laughter, and the way she cared so deeply for others made her truly one of a kind."
Steph and her dad had their own language. Three words that meant: we're good, I love you, everything is fine. Ed sent "Yabba" on September 26, 2025 — her birthday — into the silence. He still sends it.
"I lived for as long as I could for you all because I love you all so incredibly much."
She fought. She loved. She healed. She lit up every room she ever entered. She grabbed her dad's thumb at birth and never truly let go. She gave everything to everyone — and somewhere in there, she also gave herself to a man who loved her back in Italy, under the sun.
She was Steph. She was our Mulan. She was our gem. She always will be.