To Declan on Christmas

To my nephew, Declan...

You're not going to remember these few days spent here in Baton Rouge, but know that you were the center of them. You, little man, were a good kid, and I know that's because you have two of the most wonderful parents I know. You have a sweet smile, and you're a talker--we're not sure what you're saying just yet, but you seem to think it's pretty important. 

And you must know that you were a blessing--an answer to so many prayers. You were a miracle. Truly ... a gift. We were all so happy when you finally showed up. We saw how happy you made your mom and dad ... how complete you made their little family. 

So, when you're old enough to actually read and understand this, know that you are so very special, and not just because you showed up in the nick of time, but because you will likely be the best and most vibrant reminder we have of your father. We will see him when we see you--and I hope that's often, because I'm going to miss him.

Hell, I already do.

I know it's not wise to mourn someone before they're gone, and I'm doing my best. But I've always been susceptible to bouts of melancholy, so it's tough for me to see your dad today and not think of the days ahead when he likely won't be here. 

But then I see you, and I know that, despite the horrible disease that grips him harder and harder as the days go by, you will be the one that smiles his smile and laughs his laugh in the years to come. You'll be the vessel for his big heart and that makes me so very happy. 

But it occurs to me that, as time passes, you might not have the most vibrant memories of your old man. I'm sure you'll have the photos and maybe a few video clips you can call up when the time seems right, but there's so much more. 

So, when you're ready, ask me about your dad. Ask me about the spring break we spent on the banks of the Sabine River, climbing trees, swinging from vines and trekking through the marsh. Ask me about Frank the ferret and Dixie the cat and Snowy the white rabbit. Ask me about "the woods," and the epic BB-gun wars we had with the neighborhood kids. Ask me how pissed your grandpa was when he found out about that.

Ask me about the time your dad harpooned a big long-nose gar with a frog gig--I swear to God it happened. Ask me about the time we saw an alligator gar so big in the Sabine that he saw its head from the bow of our canoe, and I saw its tail, 17 feet away in the stern. And we still went swimming. 

One day, promise me you'll ask me about the time your dad and I tagged along on a grownup fishing and camping trip to Caddo Lake. I remember him walking out of the tent that first morning wearing a poorly fitting pair of orange and black Spot-Bilt football cleats. On the wrong feet. 

Or the time we drove up Elbert Creek in Colorado for Memorial Day weekend and got snowed in.

Your cousins love you, too.

We were lucky--the fishing was good, and we had plenty of beer.

Did you know your dad was a hell of a water skier? Did you know that he and I were the best two-man Nerf football team on Chestnut Lane? Or that he was a great swimmer and diver? 

We didn't alway like each other, but we loved each other, even when we fought. And some of those fights were classic, like the time I threw a little combustible popper at his head and it blew up when it hit is eyeglasses. Your dad, also a hell of a thespian, screamed, "Flashburns!" and grabbed a knotted, frayed rope that was laying around in the basement of our grandparents' house. He came after me and whipped me across the legs with it.

The he ran. 

But I caught him by the ankles as he sprinted up the stairs, and I yanked him back to the basement--his head hit every step on the way down... "Thump, thump, thump, thump..."

It was one of many volcanic battles we endured--all brothers do, I suppose.

And that's what you need to know. No matter how much we sparred, when it was us against the world, he stood right there with me and your Uncle Andy. He was a great brother. The best.

And I've watched him with you these last few days. I know how much he loves you, and no matter what happens, that love for you will endure. He's a great dad, and you are lucky to have him.

Even though you're too young to remember this time we've all spent together, you should know that your dad thought of little else but you. He and your mom love you with all their hearts, and they wouldn't change a thing about the life they've built with you in it, fragile and fleeting though it may be.

Remember that, Declan--you were their life. You made them so deliriously happy... so whole. You put a smile on your dad's face in the darkest of times, and when the rest of us could barely contain our grief, he smiled because of you.

I love your dad. I always will, because he was my brother and he had the biggest heart of all.

I know. Just ask me. I'll tell you everything you need to know.

Merry Christmas, nephew.


-Uncle Chris