It was 11 o'clock when they told me you were gone. 11 O'clock and I thought my dog had died or my dad's car had broken down or he lost his house maybe gotten sick and was in the hospital but it was at 11 o'clock that they told me you were gone. It's a feeling I'll never forget, one that I hope no one will have to encounter in their life. You were gone for a day before I knew. By a hand so familiar to you. A hand that had rubbed your stomach when it was upset trying to calm it, a hand that had made you soup when your nose was stuffed and sticky, a hand that created beautiful masterpieces no matter the canvas. You wrote a different kind of line, one with pink and purple and blue. They crossed and conjoined and streamlined across the world. You wrote a different kind of story. A story where you had it all together. A story where the main character never lost his smile even though he faced troubles unbeknownst to everyone. You painted a story of strength and virtue and people of all ages (young and old) hoped to be like you when they grew up. It was 11 o'clock and nothing could have prepared me for the news of your departure. All of the pain I've felt, all of the books I've read, news articles with similar stories, NOTHING could have prepared me for this one. Because this time the story was mine. Uncle Darrell, it was at 11 o'clock when they told me you left us. 11 o'clock is no longer a time I wish to be awake. 11 o'clock was on a Friday. I no longer like Friday's. At 11 o'clock I realized I hadn't been awarded the chance to see you one last time before it all came to a halt for you. At 11 O'clock I took in the fact that I will never see you again, nobody will. At 11 O'clock I found out I would not be making it to your wake. 11 O'clock has turned into both a time and a place since then. 11 O'clock is now a time when tears dare to fall from my eyes. 11 O'clock is now a place, it's a world without you in it. A place where people come to commemorate your life; where people come to celebrate the fact that someone as angelic as you once walked this earth. You were a blessing unto every person you have met and you will never be forgotten. I love you Uncle Darrell I hope that one day I will see you again.

I like you because you are inked with the pain of the past, and while the past (a lot like a tattoo) is something that can't be erased you never stop trying to scrub it off of your skin. When I'm in your presence I can feel the butterflies that once resided in the deepest pit of my stomach trying to claw their way out of my throat. You are a wildfire and should never tell yourself otherwise. I would pay all the money in the world to sit in your lap and listen to your entire life story (start to finish). I know you think me falling asleep on the phone every night before you're even tired is me being uninterested but I fall asleep because you're a beautiful lullaby singing me to sleep with no words. I want to help you find a way to disregard the darkness that clouds your mind and retain all the light there is in the world because you deserve it. I do like the idea of you. But more so I like the idea of us. Of what we could be once I'm released from these shackles I call parents. I like the idea of how happy you could be. Of how just a tad bit of light could change your life. That day in your room watching A Nightmare Before Christmas you kissed me and it sent ripples through my skin and it scared the hell out of me because it made my feelings even stronger. I like the fact that I'm able to get upset with you and let you know when you've upset me because trust me that takes extremes comfort. You arrived in my life in the summer. An entity from thin air only visible to my eyes, and for some reason you've chosen to stay.

In your kaleidoscope eyes i found a bitter surprise.
A world filled with regrets and goodbyes.
You laid eyes on me with your shattered sights and told me my aura burned forever bright.
But truthfully my heart was a car crash in the dead of night:
    -Broken windows for eyes.
    -Faulty headlights like my line of sight.
    -Broken gaskets like my wounded heart.
    -Sputtering fuel lines like the veins running through my arms.    
    -Radio blaring The Pretty Reckless.
    -Aura burning.
    -Aura Dimming.
    -Car swimming.
    -Amount of oxygen in the air thinning.
You thought you knew me. Could see me clearly. But you had kaleidoscope eyes and it shouldn't have come as a surprise when you failed like all the rest, left dumfounded as a deer in headlights in the dead of night.