When losing a loved one, it’s very easy to get lost in grief and pain, focusing only on the fact that he or she is no longer with you. I lost both my dad and my brother in a short period of time, so I know that it’s not something a person can get over or stop doing easily. And although my experiences with loss and pain have helped me grow into the woman I am today, I wanted to keep this piece more lighthearted and fun; so, instead of writing about the pain, grief and sorrow I have experienced, I wanted to share some fun memories — memories of my dad and brother that never fail to make me smile.

I’ll begin with a memory that my mom recently shared with me about my brother, Erik. She had just given birth to me and brought me home from the hospital when Erik was 6 years old. She was trying to breastfeed me, but, as I was a stubborn baby, I kept refusing her. Erik heard me crying and came into my parents’ bedroom, took in the scene before him and asked my mom, “Can I help?” — I can almost picture my mom’s face as she smiled at him and said, “No, honey, this is something you can’t help with." Hearing my mom tell this story reminds me how Erik was always trying to help everyone around him no matter the situation and no matter how old he was.

As we both got older, our relationship was always put to the test. I was probably the worst little sister ever — I pestered Erik whenever I had the chance. It was just a reflexive instinct, like breathing. I constantly pushed him around and hit him, knowing if he pushed me back or pulled my hair in retaliation. Erikwould be the one to get in trouble. “Don’t push her back! She’s half your size; you’ll hurt her. Just ignore her, Erik," were the words my parents would always tell him. He would try to ignore me, but I just knew how to get under his skin. I would always want to hang out with him and his friends, but he hated having me around; my parents would force him to let me spend time with them for a few minutes a day. I remember how I would always tell his close girl friends embarrassing stuff — let’s just say one thing I told them had to do with puberty. Eventually, though, when I turned 12 years old, I mellowed out, and we actually became extremely close — we became best friends. I remember how I would sit in the basement with him, watching him play “GTA IV” and “God Of War” until 1 in the morning or until our eyes hurt from staring at the screen for so long. There were times when he would get super mad at the video games and he would tell me to go upstairs 'cause he “didn’t want to expose me to bad words." I would pretend to go, but I’d actually be listening against the door at the bottom of the basement steps. There were other times when Erik would tell me to tell my parents, “He’s in a bad mood, don’t go down there right now," when in reality he was sneaking out the basement door to go for late-night walks with his close friends (I recently shared this with my mom and she couldn’t believe I covered for him. The expression on her face was priceless).

The last and most recent memory involving Erik was when he told us this one story (I almost died from laughter). He must’ve been a sophomore in college when he and his friends went to go to a nearby restaurant/bar on the beach (he was attending the University of Tampa) and snuck into the cabanas that were reserved for VIP guests. Inside these cabanas were some sort of fancy dessert with strawberries and whipped cream or something similar. The boys, thinking they were so daring and awesome, ate a bunch of them and left. As they stepped out of the cabana and onto the beach the hostess from the restaurant saw, came over, looked at them suspiciously and asked them what they were doing. The conversation went a little bit like this:

Hostess: Were you guys just in the cabanas?

Erik: No, ma’am. Just taking a walk.

Hostess: Really? And you didn’t eat any of the desserts?

Erik: Of course not, we would never.

Hostess: Are you sure about that?

Erik: Absolutely!

Hostess: 'Cause you have whipped cream all over your face.

Silence…

Erik: Shit.

I swear it was one of the funniest stories I had ever heard, partially because it was so stupid, and partially because it was Erik, and this could only happen to him. But all he had to do was flash his beautiful smile and they were all off the hook. I’m pretty sure he got the hostess’ phone number too.

One of the fondest memories I have of my dad happens to include Erik as well. My family and I have a house in Massachusetts, up in the Berkshires, right on a lake. As we started coming up every weekend and every summer, Erik quickly became friends with a group of girls who lived in the lake community year round: Amy, Jill, Jamie and Jessie. Erik, who was always the gentleman (which he learned from my dad), would walk Amy or Jill home every night. When Erik walked out that front door, my dad, ever the trickster, would call my mom and me over, and we would run outside to hide in the bushes lining the dirt road at the end of our driveway. There we would wait — 10, 20 or even 30 minutes — for Erik to walk past on his way home. We’d scream and boo and scare the crap out of him every single time, even though he knew it would be coming. Dad would change our hiding space and come up with new noises to make each time. I’ll never forget the string of profanities that would come out of Erik’s mouth or the big grin and belly laugh from my dad.

This following memory also showcases my dad’s mischievous side and childish love for playing pranks. It’s funny to me because if you were to look at my dad you would never think he would be the type to mess around with someone, but it was one of my favorite things about him. Anyway, this prank happened at the lake too, and it happened many, many times. Erik and I would always bring friends up to the lake. Dad would be driving our infamous white van with Mom sitting in the front, and our friends and I would be sitting in the middle and back seats. We’d drive up to the lake at night so it was always dark outside, which was the perfect time for my dad to act. We would all be talking and singing along to the radio when, as we turned onto the road that would lead us to our community, my dad would turn off all the lights (once making sure no cars were coming or behind us; safety first) and start swerving the car, screaming! Everybody in the car would freak out and screech and grab onto each other before Dad turned the lights back on, crying from laughing so hard. I always knew it was coming, just like Erik did with us scaring him, but it never failed to catch me off guard. It became the Nicoletti way of welcoming new comers to the lake, an initiation, so-to-speak.

The last memory I want to share with you all shows my dad’s gentle side. To be honest, the gentle and kind side of my dad is the side that everyone knows him for. It’s the trickster part of him that only a few people got to experience. My dad was a teddy bear; he always put others before himself, and as long as everyone else was happy, he was happy — I guess I got those traits from him. My dad comforted me so many times, too many to count; a lot of people will say, “That’s a dad’s job," but, with my dad, it was something more than a “job." It was special. Hewas special. The memory that sticks out in my mind occurred when I was a sophomore in high school. Long story short, there was a guy that I really liked at the time, and he ended up asking one of my best friends out. Of course, my friend came to me (because she knew I liked him) to make sure I was OK with it. And I was. I really was. I was sad, but I was truly happy for them. When I got home from school that day, I walked through the front door and went straight up to my room. I cried for a little bit and eventually my dad came up to find me. He saw me sitting on my bed, holding a stuffed animal and knelt down in front of me. “What’s wrong, Julz?” he asked me. I looked at him and told him what happened. “So and so asked so and so out. I’m happy for them, but still sad." My dad sighed and pushed himself up and sat next to me on the bed. He put his arms around me, pulling me close and just held me. I don’t know how long we stayed like that. I know I stopped crying after a few minutes, but he didn’t let me go. Finally, when we separated, my dad took me out to King Kone, the local ice cream joint, and we sat on a bench, licking our cones and laughing. I will never forget that moment. I don’t think I ever thought about it until then but I realized that the saying, “Dad, a daughter’s first love," was undeniably true.

While writing this piece, I’ve laughed and cried with a smile on my face the entire time. I miss my brother and my dad so much, more than anyone could possibly imagine. I have spent so much time missing them and thinking about the experiences they’re missing and the experiences that I can’t have with them, I sometimes forget to think about the good and happymoments I havehad with them. There is nothing that can erase these moments, these memories with Erik and my dad, nothing. I love them both, and I know that because of these memories, because of these gifts they have given me, there will never be a moment in my life where Erik and my dad are not with me. Never.