On January 29th 1991 my boy came hurrying into this world, 2 months ahead of schedule. In his entire life he never slowed down, always in a hurry, always on the go, talking a mile a minute with an adorable little lisp. Just listening to him talk could make you smile. He never sat still and would even eat while walking around the table in circles. The only time he would sit still was to read a book and he even did that as fast a lightening!

He liked to hunt and he liked to fish. Went swimming at the river a lot on a rope swing. Called his momma all the time, just to say he loved her. He didn’t have patience with criticism and he loved to make a joke. Could laugh at him with amazing grace and adored his niece. He was her uncle Jamie and there is nothing he wouldn’t do that she wanted.

Chey wanna swing, Uncle Jamie was swinging. Sing for her? He sang. Hold her treasured cow…he was holding it. Carry her? Any where she wanted to go. Fight with sister Jenny? Over everything and anything but would want to throw down with anyone that brought a tear to her eye. If a guy didn’t spoil her then he wasn’t good enough for her.

Sister Ashley was always challenging him to think to plan to be a better person, to have goals and to think of the future. She always made him know that he had potential. Sister Stephanie? I am bored he would say and off to hang with her he would go . . . the sister he just laid back and got to be the baby, spoiled by her as much as by his mother.

Bert . . . the one he called his dad to around others but wouldn’t call him that up front. The one he admired and respected, and looked up to. He taught him to be a man, not to hit his sisters, to take care of his responsibilities. The cousin Austin he spent his time learning to hunt with. The Aunt Tracy he made laugh. The grandfather’s he hated to disappoint when he took the wrong road sometimes. The friends that shared his exploits with and got into trouble with and worried his momma over. The grandmothers that adored him and he brought joy to.

The first love and wife he never met . . . the children he never had . . . he would have been a fabulous dad . . . Bert taught him what a dad was . . . the ‘big brother” Eric who would fight over food with him. The family he lost touch with that were cheated of knowing the wonderful person he is. The soup kitchen he enjoyed helping at. The nursing home Christmas luncheon he had a blast helping with. The key chain he carried because they thanked him for spending time with them. The cat that misses him, his dog I have always disliked . . . the strangers he saved with the organs he donated. My Baby, my Son, A hero.