Dear Jesse,

Carly posted this picture on my Facebook wall the other day.

This was seven years ago. 

Jesse, what have you done?
What have you fucking done?

My kids worshiped you.

They love you so much, and we talk about you all the time.

Every single they night they ask for "Uncle Jesse stories" before bed.

Jess, I'm running out of stories.

 I'm running out of memories to share.

I've told them everything I can remember about you.

And that kills me.

I think I'm in a bit of the anger stage of my grief.

Because I hate you for not being here.

I hate that my kids will never make a new memory with you.

I hate that if I have another baby I'll never have another picture like this.

I hate that, when I first saw this picture my first thought is of what a great dad you'd be, and now you'll never have that chance. 

You would have been an incredible dad.

Your kids would have been freaking hilarious, and amazing, and the world needs your kids! 

I secretly hope that some day, some kid will show up on Mom's door step and claim to be her grandson.

Because honestly, I can only imagine what your kid would be like. 

And it's hilarious, and charming, and amazing, and all the wonderful things you were, that you couldn't see anymore.