Kevin was a morbidly obese man who worked as the dispatcher for Leon’s taxis. He would come in on my bar shifts and drink a lot of 23 oz Budweisers, eat a small basket of chips and get salsa and tostidos all over his face in a revolting way. There would be a trail of chippy grime on the bar after he left. He would have a Leon’s taxi take him to work once he was finished. He’d spend his time at the bar doting over his daughters and asking me every single time if I knew his youngest, who graduated from the same high school I went to, but a few years before hand. I would listen, as if for the first time, and tell him I didn’t know her. He’d tell me about her softball career and how she blew her knee out and how sad it was. He’d talk about how painful his divorce was. The last time I saw him he was clean shaven and he told me he was looking to lose weight and meet someone. I believed him. I hoped to see it happen. Sometimes he would get drunk and talk a lot to the other bar guests. His increase in conversation was the sign that he was feeling ‘tipsy’. One time he drank 23 of the 23oz beers and threw up on Josh’s phone. He hated Maureen. Bartenders hated having him on their shift because they were always nervous they’d have to cut him off, but were thankful that he never drove- so he was only cut off once. By Maureen. I just found out that he died two months ago of a heart attack. I don’t know how many people he had in his life that cared about him. I think his ex-wife hated him, but I could be mistaken. All I know is he has two daughters around my age and he really loved them. He wanted to change, but I know that’s hard to do. He was always nice to me. I wanted something to show he will be remembered.