You sent me a birthday card every single year. Even when I moved and forgot to tell you my new address you tracked me down. Cards with five dollars in them and a note that said “buy yourself something nice.” Five dollars didn’t buy much but that wasn’t the point. You remembered. You always remembered. I forgot your birthday three years in a row. Too busy. Too much going on. You never mentioned it. This year I remembered and bought you a card but you died before I could mail it. It’s still sitting on my desk. I can’t throw it away. I’m so sorry Grandpa Lou.