Where do I start? I don't know. I will just say that I am both thankful and blessed to have known you, Uncle Mike. You can choose your friends, but you can't choose your family. That's why I feel so fortunate to have had you as my uncle. Some of the best times I had, you were a part of. And I can't remember ever hearing a cross word come from your mouth towards me. I'll never forget the times at the house with all of us kids, and you right in the middle of it acting like a kid yourself. Or all of the times that the phone would ring and either you , or Aunt Connie would be on the other end telling me to ask Mom, and then get my stuff packed because I was going to Indiana Beach (especially when Aunt Connie thought that bridge that hit her in the back of the head while she was photographing Bobby was me with a boat oar) or Lake of the Woods, or you were taking us to the "Y" in the middle of winter to go swimming. I'll also never forget when Dad, yourself, and I were at the old farm cutting wood and Dad decided to help you get your truck back up the hill. I could fill up a book's worth of stories with the shenanigans that transpired. Especially when you and Dad were together in the mix. Like I told you in the letter, they aren't just stories. They're memories. Memories that I have held on to for all these years, and will re-tell, and keep with me until the day I die.

You were a good man. And my heart ached like it got hit by a truck when I found out you were sick. That same ache is there again. But it is also accompanied by the comfort in knowing that you are no longer sick, no longer suffering, and that you are made new in the presence of God. I would hazard a guess that you look like the handsome devil in the picture to the left. 

Rest easy. Rest in Peace. And thank you for being the best uncle a kid could hope to have.