I was 2 years old when he died.
My mom's brother.
He'd come and play with me everyday.
And he'd always bring taco bell.
He was driving with his friends the day it happened.
The car rolled.
And he didn't make it.
Now as a 2 year old I didn't know what happened.
All I knew is that uncle J*** didn't come over anymore.
I lost my best friend.
And obviously I don't remember all the details.
I was 2 years old.
But I remember one thing clear as day.
And I think it's the first memory I have.
He came and visited me in a dream.
He took me by the hand and walked me to the back door.
He opened it and I saw the moon sitting in my back yard.
He sat on it and helped me up.
And we flew that night.
Past the planets.
Past the stars.
And I wish I could have just stayed in that moment forever.
But like all good things, it came to an end.
And the moon landed in my backyard.
He walked me to the door.
Then he hugged me and said goodbye.
He walked back to the moon and waved.
And that was the last time I saw him.
I woke up the next morning and told my mom "I flew with J*** to the moon!"
With a tear in her eye she smiled.
And I knew in that moment.
In that smile.
That everything would be ok.
I flew to the moon man.
I flew to the moon.
-Lloyd.