When I was younger, I thought my uncle Darren was an asshole. I know now that he wasn’t, that it was just his way. How he got things done. He’s the only person that I could never bullshit, because he saw right through it every time. He never beat around the bush, he never minced words, and you always knew where you stood with him. The older I’ve gotten, the more I’ve come to understand and respect him. He had a way of doing things for people without making it feel like charity. He gave opportunities. He did so many things for me that he didn’t have to and I wish I’d made it more clear how much it means to me. You always think there will be more time, more opportunities and sometimes that doesn’t end up being the case. When Darren told everyone about the cancer, it was just one of those things where I thought “if anyone is gonna beat cancer just because he can, it’s gonna be Darren. He was one of those people that just had that air of invincibility around him. I went back to school every year with nice clothes because of him. I got to spend a week at the beach every summer because of him. I played in poker tournaments that I couldn’t afford because of him. He gave me a job when he knew I needed it. He’s the only boss I’ll ever have that I would butt heads with, quit the job, and come back later making $1 more than I was when I quit. I’ll never forget the lengths I would go to to hide from him at work because I knew if he found me doing nothing, he’d find something for me to do. I found out that I could sit under the ping pong table in the break room and if he walked by he wouldn’t be able to see me. He always talked loud and moved loud and even if you didn’t hear him, you could smell his cologne coming, so I’d just scoot under the table and let him go by. Until the day he decided to be quiet and come in the break room from the shop, and saw me sitting under the table playing a game on my phone. I knew I was caught without even having to turn around. I spent the rest of that day reorganizing boxes of spare fittings, but the memory makes it worth it. He always wanted better for people. He couldn’t stand to see others do less than they were capable of. One day he called me into his office and had me shut the door. I knew I was gonna get an earful for something so I sat down and prepared for it. Instead, he said “dude, what are you doing?” I didn’t know what he meant, so I told him what I’d been doing out in the shop. That wasn’t what he meant. He wanted to know why I wasn’t applying myself. He knew that I was capable of more than I was doing. He told me the steps I needed to take to get there and how one day, it’ll hit home for me. If there’s one thing that I’ll always remember when it comes to Darren, it’ll be what he said to me that day. “You get one go around on this Earth, one life to live here. Grab it by the fucking throat and take the things you want from it.” That’s how Darren lived his life. If he wanted to do something, he did it, and he didn’t care what anyone else thought about it. And he never half-assed anything, ever. He did more in his 55 years on this Earth than anyone else could have done in 100. He had life by the throat all the way til the end, and he wasn’t modest about it either. If you ever called his cell phone, you know his voicemail: “This is Darren, I’m probably out killing something, shooting 65 on the golf course, or taking someone’s money on the poker table.” He didn’t just dabble in poker, he followed the World Series of Poker from state to state and won over $378,000. He didn’t just go hunting, he bought land in Illinois and Iowa and took down Mr. Perfect on the Outdoor Channel. Bears and elk and bucks and whatever other trophy animals that were unfortunate enough to cross his path. He’d beat you on the golf course and then laminate the money he won off you alongside the scorecard just because he loved the competition. More importantly than all that though, he loved his family. Especially his kids. That’s what I respect most about him. That’s how I’ll remember my uncle Darren. I’ll tell my son the things he told me, and I’ll do my best to live my life half as good as he lived his. I wish we could have been closer. I always thought we’d get to play in the World Series of Poker in Vegas together. I’m sure when I do get the chance to go, in some way he’ll be there too. Unless he’s out killing something, shooting 65 on the golf course, or taking someone else’s money on the poker table.