I smile because it was so soon. Only a year later did you pass on after her. We had so much relief when doctors reassured us you were fine; you weren’t fine. As quick as we had the good news, the bad news was the headline. It seemed so strange to have it all taken away, mere seconds and you were gone. But it was perfect, you know? After Mungie left, you drifted from us. Everyone. You had strength enough to make it almost a year, almost. And then you went with her and we were envious. We wanted the both of you and the feeling was so selfish but we couldn’t help it. It broke us. And you had each other now.

I’m sure Copper Cut Trail still has our footsteps embedded beneath the dirt. I’m sure that small cactus still grows there waiting for our noisy return; it should give up on that wish now. I remember slurping soup at the island in Mungie’s kitchen with you. Immaturity was embraced and encouraged by the young and old. We were the same. I have no use to watch Jeopardy now, it will never be as interesting as you made it out to be. Never.

Forever will that night with you and Allison be clear in my head. It was night and as freezing as we were, the three of us gathered around the telescope. We took turns. And I remember the many times I spent the night, I would awake to find you outside on a morning walk and soon you would shuffle in and point out something to me. If I looked just close enough, I could see that small hummingbird or that deer by your Trailblazer. The Trailblazer that sits in Vanessa’s driveway. Every time I see it coming up the road, I get my hopes up. Wondering if I could find you and Mungie in the front seats; I never did.

Not once have we used Tony’s infamous nickname that you deemed him. Tony No Ears, only your voice holds the right to say it. And Emily, you got to see her and I’m sure you told Mungie all about her. The way she would dance on the kitchen counter and giggle uncontrollably. You adored that. And eventually she would see your funeral. She would fuss like any other baby and I can only hope she has a glimpse of who you were, years from now.

It was because of you that I desire to be a photographer. A daily hobby of mine that we both shared. It was because of you that I found a love for the stars. Constellations were never so extravagant until I looked through the lens of this telescope from years ago, on that cold night. It sits in my room now. As far as I’m concerned, there is only one Poppa. And always will be. The aftermath of Valentine’s Day was the least of our worry that night, I still remember our last conversation. I smile because you can’t and I know you would want to. I smile because it was a year ago.