My dad was a teen idol when he was younger. Now he and Mom and me live on the money from that time. He met my mom when he was 18, and they fell in love after they admitted their weaknesses to each other. They say that they feed off each other. Souls that bounce off each other are always good, Mom always said. Whenever Dad says something stupid or silly, Mom will flick him and then kiss his temple.

I never met the man I was named after. My Uncle Taylor died in a car accident a few weeks before Mom found out she was pregnant with me. Dad talks about him a lot; they were close. Whenever Dad talks about Taylor, he always rakes his hand through his hair and shakes his head a lot. He always says, ‘Chris, I wish you could have met him. He was so special…’ and his voice always trails off, as if he’s afraid to end a sentence because that might confirm that Taylor is dead. Dad usually talks about Taylor when his other brother, Zac, is around. Uncle Zac is tall, broad and full of laughter and life. His dark blonde hair falls around his shoulders and shakes when he laughs. I remember when I was small, he always picked me up and put me on his knee, tapping on my shoulder, saying I’d better grow or I’d be shorter than my Dad. He usually receives a smack from Dad.

My parents aren’t the most typical people you’ll ever meet. Uncle Zac tells me that right after I was born, my Dad went into crying fits whenever he saw me. “Yep, Ike never took it very well. He couldn’t believe he actually had his very own angel.” Zac would smile and tap my nose.

Mom has black hair down to the middle of her back and green eyes. They always reminded me of water in the lake me and Dad used to go to until they shut it down, saying a leak from local oil plants made it unsafe. Dad has cropped light brown hair and lively brown eyes. I know when I was little my Mom and Dad always tucked me in and watched me until I fell asleep to make sure I made it through the night. I remember the pose. Mom, arms crossed, standing tall and proud, and Dad, eyes closed, arms wrapped around my mother’s waist.

My grandmother is short with long blonde hair. She makes a fuss about me more than Aunt Jessica’s daughter because she says I’m her miracle baby. Dad always smiles and kisses me on the cheek when Gramma says that, because he knows it’s true. I still hear my parents crying into each others shoulders at night, whispering too quietly for me to understand. Or maybe I’m just too young.

Mom didn’t want to name me after Uncle Taylor. She said it was holding onto Isaac’s past and it was unhealthy for me to have the namesake of a man I didn’t know. Dad simply shook his head and reminded her that Taylor had asked for him in the hospital. From what Uncle Zac has told me, Taylor was lying in the bed, losing too much blood, and he reached out his hand and choked, “Isaac.” So Gramma went running and got Dad. Then she left them alone. I don’t know what Uncle Taylor told Dad that night, but we know that they were the last words he said.

Yep, I’m Christina Taylor Hanson, I live in Manhattan with my Mom and Dad. I’m an only child, but I have my Aunts, my cousin, my two Uncles, and my parents. And I love my family. I know Taylor is looking down on us and smiling, because even though he’s gone, he knows that he’s loved.

“As I gaze into your eyes, think not of regret and sorrow, but rejoice in the love I’ve showered upon you, for always remember, you are loved.”