Brother. Son. Uncle. Best friend. He was probably the nicest man you would ever meet. He was smart and funny. He taught me how to treat animals and how to shoot a gun. He had a way with animals and they just instinctively knew that he would never hurt them. Lucky is his dog. Always will be. Lucky and Uncle Scott had the same brown eyes. They were the nicest brown eyes. They could make you feel safe and secure. They made you feel loved. I don't think I will ever be able to look at Lucky without being reminded of my uncle. I'm trying to write this without crying, though it's proving to be a daunting task. I can only get a couple sentances out and then I have to go read something funny my friends did. Oh gosh, what can I even say about him that people aren't already thinking? He never really was one for nicknames, but he called me Squirt. Actually, he called all of us Squirt at first. Eventually though, I became the second shortest in thef amily (besides Abby, she has an excuse) so I was really the only one who was called Squirt. I don't really think I could handle it if somebody were to just call me that. Not only was he my uncle, but he was my friend. A good friend. Probably one of the best I will ever have. He wasn't judgemental, he wasn't mean, and he wasn't perfect. I don't know if he ever really knew how much we really loved and appreciated him, but neither one of us were really the touchy feely type. I wish that I could go back and tell him how important he was to me. I just want everyone to know that no matter what happens or what happened, I will always love you. It's hard to lose someone as amazing as Scott Michael Peacock. Sitting here, writing this, I still haven't fully processed it. I'm sitting here, wishing he would just walk through that door.
Dear Uncle Scott,
I love you.
Love,
Squirt
