It seems like just yesterday.
Desert sun warming the ground just for our bare feet. Backyard welcoming us with a proverbial smile.
Deuce's tail wagging wildly.
I'm tearing through the house and tugging on your shirt. I can see you aren't used to kids but you see this as a special, if not a slightly unaccustomed treat.
I ask you over and over to make me your famous baby back ribs.
They're my favorite.
Or that time that I was being nosy.
I was in the bathroom fumbling through your drawers.
What do I find? Your Playboy stash.
Wonder, amazement, mischievousness, and curiosity.
Then there was the time that Grandpa had passed away.
I was about eighteen.
I was crying because I couldn't remember him.
It's because I was with my dad, Rod when I would see him. Those memories were gone.
I was crying and couldn't stop. You told me you loved me and held me tight. I felt hot tears fall on my shirt. I smelled the evidence. Your sadness on your breath.
Even recently. I'm with someone special now. Someone who really loves and respects me.
And even though you were weak, and skin was lacking color, your hands gently trembling, you assured me that you would, "beat the hell out of someone," if I wasn't treated right.
You meant it, every word.
I know that you have been a source of strength for so many.
Speaking every week. Telling people your story. This could happen to anybody.
You were just a sad man. You didn't mean to hurt anyone.
I'm sorry your suffered alone for so long and that this happened.
I love you Uncle "Cinderblock" Bob. I can't wait to visit you tomorrow.
Love always, your Sweetie,
Jessica Catalina Jewell