My uncle, Robert Draper, Jr., died a few days ago. He was sixty-five years old.

I've been struggling to write this post since, as it's difficult to try to pay tribute to someone you love. I've never pretended to be a great writer, my skills lie in the visual. Everything I've attempted to write seems pale, hollow and far too impersonal for what should convey some sense of who my uncle was.

I finally decided that the best I could do would be to write about a few specific memories. It's far less than Bob deserves, but it will have to do.

I have only vague memories of Bob's daughter Laurie. She had health problems either from birth or from a very early age, and died very young. I remember playing with her somewhere in a front yard, I would guess I was four or five years old. Looking back, her death must have been incredibly hard on Bob, but at the time I couldn't grasp the enormity of it. He rarely spoke of her, at least to me.

Bob was a Big Brother to a boy named Ben for years. It left me with a great impression of the program, and I've thought off and on many times over the years of volunteering. Thinking of it again now makes me want to revisit the idea, or at the least donate some money to the organization.

A few years ago Bob bought a Mac and when he needed help with various things he would ask me to come and consult. He insisted on paying me for my time, even though I objected. I would gladly have done the work for free, I enjoyed spending the time with him and talking about Notre Dame's chances in the upcoming season, or what new toys Apple would be coming out with, or the latest Republican malfeasance. But Bob wouldn't hear of it and would pay me each time I made the trip, so I charged him a discounted rate and looked forward to the next time he needed my help.

Much like myself, Bob would throw himself into a new hobby or activity with great enthusiasm. Maybe that's why he never offered any disapproval of my following rock and roll bands around the country, jetting off to see Notre Dame football games, spending summers in New York or gambling large amounts of money playing poker. He offered only his love, support and encouragment. Maybe he saw his own passions reflected in mine.

In the summer of 2002 Bob, his wife Judy, my mom and my dad came to New York while I was there for a conference. New York is almost a second home for me and I thoroughly enjoyed playing tour guide. For years after he and Judy would talk about the trip, it pleased me a lot that I was part of their enjoying the city so much.

When I bought my house in early 2005 I'm not sure who was more excitied, Bob or myself. He drove by to see it several times before I even moved in, and bought me several expensive housewarming gifts. His joy over my step forward was readily apparant, and it made me once again feel very loved.

Bob's daughter Ann gave birth to a beautiful baby boy, Mitchell, in 2006. She is expecting again, and is due this week.

A few months ago, shortly before I left for the World Series of Poker, Bob was dianosed with pancreatic cancer. Having read some about the disease I knew how dire the prognosis was. I left determined to win a WSOP bracelet so I could dedicate it to him. I fell short in that, but someday I will win one and dedicate it to his memory.

Reading all this it still seems inadequate. Bob was as good an uncle as anyone could hope for, and I wish I was a better writer to convey more of that to anyone who is reading this.

Goodbye Uncle Bob. I'll miss you.

(Please consider donating or volunteering with Big Brothers Big Sisters or donating to PanCan, which raises money for pancreatic cancer research.)