An iPhone note with a Dec. 18, 2014  1AM timestamp reads “365 things about dad.” It was this middle-of-the-night thought that inspired Celebrating Jon.

This time last year, I hoped that this year’s worth of missed moments would help you learn about how special daddy was. I didn’t realize how much it would help us all. The fact that he gave so many people such vivid memories that they can remember him well over a decade later is astounding.

To this day, Mrs. Stewart still uses his “Fat Cows, Good Dogs — All Eat Bread” pneumonic to teach her students the order of the sharps. Bob Arents has transferred dad’s number to each new phone. My friends now know how to keep themselves from sneezing during allergy season, and Joelle’s friends have found a new drinking game. We still laugh whenever we see daffodils in bloom, and the phrases “half-assed” and “be a thinking person” live on. I think about “Mr. Normal” whenever we talk in silly accents around the house. I thought about him while sitting in the stands at  each of your swim meets, wishing I had a heat sheet to pore over. We started watching Survivor as a family. The bar for our future roles as Santa and the Tooth Fairy were set unreasonably high. We learned what chung-maoed means. We realized that your affinity to technology and computers is probably genetic (as is your addiction to Netflix and propensity for bad handwriting). We also learned to appreciate the little reminders like seltzer water, chocolate soda, fish oil, cream cheese & jelly sandwiches, long family-update emails, office knickknacks, puns, acronyms, mix-tapes, circle cheese, poems and so much more. We saw countless photos. We learned how meaningful cards and letters can be, along with how funny gag gifts can be. And, most importantly, we realized just how much he loved being a friend, husband and dad.

Though the daily posts are ending, the sharing of memories is not. To everyone who followed, thank you for taking time to learn about the incredible man Jon Halle was. If you knew him, please continue to share your memories with us. And to those who didn’t know him, know that you have helped us keep his memory alive by listening to us recount our stories over the years.

Happy birthday, Dane. It was only fitting that you stained your shirt today.

All my love, all the time. I’m so lucky to call you my brother.