Today you'd be 39, and I would probably be calling you an old fart or something like that, which would more than likely result in a wrestling match.
Today you'd be able to teach your daughter things like you taught me. I'll never forget that you taught me how to swim, skip rocks on the water and spin a basketball on my finger.
Today you'd probably still be telling all of us nieces and nephews that you used to spit in the cereal when you worked at the factory. Oh, and you'd probably still try to convince me that dog treats are cookies haha, thanks for that.
Today you and I would probably still have our infamous "dog fighting" matches. I'd still choose to be a small dog first. Then you'd choose to be a pit and that would lead me to say "Fine! I'm all the dogs in the world, strongest, scariest ones!" Then you'd let me win a wrestling match. And encourage me to keep singing and never give up on anything. No matter how scary it is.
Today you would still be the big ole teddy bear that I remember you to be. The one who never took enough care of himself but made sure that my sister and I were taken care of, when you lived with us.
Today who knows if you would still struggle with addiction, if you were on this Earth. Today, I hope that you would have overcome the needles and toxic waste you pumped into your body.
I know I never could (not that I would want to) judge your heart. But I knew you had a love for God. I remember how hard you tried to leave the drugs behind. I remember the tears, prayers and fights. I remember a strong man who had a weak moment, and the world had overcome him. I will always have peace that you are in Heaven. I know, I'm not God, the ultimate judge. And I'm thankful I'm not. But ever since that dream that God gave me about you and I walking hand in hand in Heaven, I have peace.
Michael, I know you couldn't always beat that addiction but it's okay because God has overcome it all, even death. My life wouldn't be the same without you or your death that took you too soon from your family.
Every stone I skip, summer swim I take, basketball game I play and song I sing, I do it in part with your memory at the forefront of my mind. I love you so much and I hope you are enjoying those streets of gold.
Because of your death, I want to live intentionally. I want my family to know with peace and joy where I am and that I lived a truly fulfilling and not oppressing life. Because of your death, I want to live out love and never leave any doubt.
Tomorrow you'll be gone for 10 years. You'll be addiction free, resting peacefully for 10 years. You'll still have the biggest heart of anyone I know. You'll still be more of a big brother to me, than an uncle. Tomorrow I will live better. Tomorrow is a new day, chance, dream. A time for someone else to overcome addiction on this earth. Tomorrow is a new day for redemption. Tomorrow you'll still be one of my favorite people, no matter the label, no matter the addiction. I love you (uncle) Michael Thomas Williams. 
http://m.youtube.com/watch?v=iXMNzaZgMEM
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