The day I moved into my first apartment, you helped me carry all those boxes up three flights of stairs. You complained the whole time but still insisted on doing it yourself. "I'm not that old yet," you kept saying. When everything was finally inside, you looked around at the empty rooms and said "Well, it's a start." Then you handed me a toolbox. It was yours from when you first got married. Some of the tools had rust on them, but you said they'd last another 50 years if I took care of them. You died in your sleep two months later. I used those tools to hang pictures of you on my wall. Every time something breaks, I open that toolbox and feel like you're still helping me fix things. I miss you Uncle Jack.

Every single year without fail, you'd call me at exactly 8:13 AM on my birthday. "That's when you were born!" you'd say with that excited grandma voice. I'd usually still be half asleep but I'd smile hearing your voice. You'd tell me how proud you were of me and how much I'd grown. After you passed last March, I woke up on my birthday and stared at my phone until 8:14 AM. The silence was deafening. I kept thinking maybe heaven would make an exception just this once. I miss those calls. I miss you telling me how special I am. I miss you Grandma.

I keep making two cups of coffee every morning. Been eight months and I still can't break the habit. Your favorite mug with the chip on the handle sits in the cabinet now. I miss hearing you shuffle down the hallway at 6am. You were always the early bird. That crossword puzzle book is still on the table. Half finished. I tried to put it away but couldn't do it. Your chair still faces the window where you could see the bird feeder. The birds still come every morning. I think they miss you too. Never realized how quiet mornings could be until you were gone. I'd give anything to hear you complain about the neighbors dog just one more time. I miss you mom.

This picture of you with that cute dog of yours breaks my heart every time I see it. You named him Shadow because he followed you everywhere. Remember how mom said absolutely no dogs in the house and somehow by the end of the week Shadow was sleeping on her bed? This was at the park near your apartment. You always smiled like that around Shadow. I remember you saying "Aunt Jen, take our picture!" I wish I had taken a hundred more pictures that day. I wish I had known we only had a few months left with you. We all miss you sweetheart.

That picture of you eating with me and Katie at the table in our backyard makes me smile every time. You insisted on having dinner outside whenever it wasn't raining. Mom hated it because of the bugs but you didn't care. We were probably eating burgers or something you grilled. Nothing special about that day really, just a normal Tuesday dinner. But now those everyday moments are the ones I miss the most. I'd give anything to have one more boring dinner in the backyard with you. Still miss you every day, Dad.

I remember the summer of 1987 fondly. Mainly because of my aunt and my grandmother. Grandmother had just let you move in after your terrible divorce with Uncle David. Me and my brothers had also lost someone and grandmother had asked if she could have regular visitation with us. So every other weekend and most of the summer we spent at my grandmother’s with you. I have so many fond memories but anytime I see Scott Bakula, who you often talked about was so handsome or quantum leap. I’m instantly taken back to memories of us watching this show eating popcorn, and laughing. Knowing that someone was there who loved us when we felt abandoned meant so much.

The picture that comes to mind when I hear the theme song is you sitting in front of a TV tray, white undershirt V-neck, just eating chili, sliced cheese, and crackers, smiling at me as I run around through the house. I don’t have a lot of memories of you besides that. I remember when I heard you passed away and I ran around the house crying. It was the first family member I ever lost. I didn’t know you long, but I can still see your smile. I miss you granddad.

Your parents were adamant that they did not want you to marry me, but at every angle you stood up to them. I’ve never had anyone stand up for me like that to express how much they love me. Your parents refused to pay for the wedding so I saved everything I could. I still remember driving down to Louisiana and then seeing you walk towards me in your wedding dress all I could think was how lucky I am to be marrying you. I didn’t realize it then but I saw it later that every day of our marriage, you stood up for our love and who you knew I could be when I doubted myself. I love you and I miss you.

I passed the stupid campground on my way to work every day. For years, I would ride by and just be angry at you. How could you let something that you knew was destroying you kill you? How could you let addiction hurt not only you but all of those who loved you? You didn’t even set up your camper you were so drunk you fell asleep in your car and passed out and died of a heat stroke in the car. Mom had to actually find you. She called and called and couldn’t get you. Drove up and found you. I’m not angry anymore. I just miss you. I wish you could’ve beat the demons that had control of you for most of your life. I do believe I’ll see you again. Love you, dad.

I remember getting my first bike for Christmas that year. Me and my brother screamed with excitement when we saw what we actually got. Later that day when we went outside to ride the bikes, I realized I didn’t know how to ride a bike. My other two brothers had been taught to ride a bike by Dad prior to him passing away. As you wait for me to follow you guys I remember the look on your face when you realized I didn’t know how to ride a bike. You didn’t make fun of me. You didn’t leave me. You showed me what a big brother was about. You turned around and we spent the rest of the day showing me how to ride that bike. This picture is from the next day. Mom took a picture of me riding the bike. I was so proud of myself, but I was also so grateful to have you as a brother.