Cass was a man of surprises, and even in his passing, he continues to leave us with unexpected memories. He embraced life with a vigor that made him seem invincible. 

I remember the day we met back on August 12, 2017 during one of my scuba classes at Lake Travis. Cass arrived late, as usual, and when I asked about his camping gear, he sheepishly admitted to not reading the agenda. He was content to sleep on the grass with his ruck as a makeshift pillow. Something about his nonchalant charm caught me off guard, and before I knew it, I found myself blurting out an offer of space in my tent. It was unprofessional, impulsive, and unforgettable. Cass, caught off guard, yet without hesitation, accepted, and thus began our journey together.

Six months into our whirlwind, I knew Cass was the one. I was certain beyond measure. But, as life would have it, Cass panicked and bolted. I was devastated. So much so that I literally changed my number and blocked him from my life. It wasn't until almost three years later, during a phone mishap, that I stumbled upon hundreds of Instagram messages going back all three years, including a recent one asking me out for drinks. Curiosity got the best of me and true to form, Cass wasted no time. Within days, we found ourselves at Kirby Ice House, where his first words to me were, "I'm ready to get married." And just like that, we were back on our journey together.

Cass was a man of spontaneity, humor, boisterousness, and sentimentality. Recently, I discovered his 2017 scuba certification in our safe, still tucked in the envelope where I had once left a love note for him, along with every card I’ve ever written him. It was a happy reminder to see what he treasured, wanted to protect and keep safe. 

Of all the things I miss, I’ve been more surprised by the things about Cass that I never thought I'd miss. From his infinite search parties for his misplaced Juul to late-night Call of Duty sessions that would jolt me awake. His perpetual research for his next firearm, the daily hunt for his keys, and getting him up at 6am for his Monday morning sales meeting. How he could make a mess in a matter of seconds and never close a single door or draw he opened, literally. And if you can believe it or not, our debates of who was louder. Cass was convinced I was the loudest…always telling me he’s right here. I always found that ironic. 

Cass loved animals. He grew up with them and had everything from a rooster to a wolf mix. I can’t even begin to name all the pets he asked if we could get while raising a newborn and at the same time. He went on and on about sugar gliders, Great Danes, golden doodles,  golden retrievers and especially cougars. Gosh did he really want a cougar. I can thank TikTok for that.  

Cass had a unique love affair with Tabasco sauce, consuming a staggering 2.5 gallons of red and 1 gallon of green a year. He would often tell me how those tiny Tabasco packets, a staple from his military days, gave him something to look forward to. He once joked that he’d stash them in his flick for when they’d need to splash some in their eyes to stay awake. I'll never look at a bottle of Tabasco the same way again without seeing his grin.

He cherished his family, friends, work, his alma mater A&M, and his service in the military. And of course the gym. He was obsessed with maintaining his abs, getting big, seized every moment to be shirtless and feared the dad-bod. Chipotle was practically a food group for him, and he was always prepared for any natural disaster. We shared a love for plants and late nights fireside in our pool. Our adventures in travel, diving, and outdoor escapades were always something to look forward too, and we supported each other's passion for extreme sports without hesitation. We were obsessed! We loved to laugh more than anything, had a blast doing nothing and never passed up an opportunity to zing one another. 

Many of you know, on March 5, 2022, just a month after we got engaged, and exactly two years from the day he left us, Cass experienced a life-altering accident that left him with a traumatic brain injury. From that moment, our lives took a very different path. His struggles with anxiety, PTSD, and insomnia had come back with a vengeance. We spent countless hours in doctors' offices and with the VA but the resounding consensus was always the same—the brain is complex and anything that doesn’t normalize within the first year will most likely be a permanent reality. 

Within the last twelve months, Cass endured six car accidents, two surgeries, two trips to the ER, and two concussions. We kept adding area rugs and nonslip mats around the home. It became difficult for us both to acknowledge that simple tasks had become challenging and overwhelming. Cass would often tell me, he didn’t feel himself, he wasn’t the man he used to be. It was hard to watch someone so strong unravel. 

Looking back, I believe now that he was living on borrowed time, determined to taste the life he now so desired—to be a husband and the chance to start a family. I am honored to have been his wife, and to have gifted him with a beautiful son, the one thing he wanted above all else. It breaks my heart that our son is too young to remember his father, but I am grateful that Cass got to hear words like "dada," and to witness Kayden crawling, standing, getting into everything and our first family vacation together.

Every day, I feel the void left by Cass's infectious smile and warm, bear hugs. Though I may never understand why any of this happened, I hope that Cass has finally found the mental peace he so desperately sought.

I promise you Cass, to keep your happiest memories alive for Kayden, to share with him the joys of your favorite pastimes, (except the gaming), and of course, to nudge him towards attending A&M, as you would have wanted.

We miss you, more than words can express. Until we meet again, I hope you’re finally wing-suiting through Norway. As he often told me, "I love you more than life itself, spider monkey."

As I am fiercely reminded, life is unpredictable, so let’s make the most of it one day at a time. Thank you to everyone who came out to honor the life of my husband.

Never forgotten buddy. I’ll always cherish your friendship and laughs. 

Relaxing after diving in the cages with great whites. 

Headed in the cage to see the Great Whites up close 

Houston National Cemetery

Cass was so full of life, adventure, laughs and so much more… you never really knew what was going to come out of his mouth one moment to the next, I’m pretty sure it was a surprise to him too. He loved his family and friends fiercely, and he had the innate drive to protect everyone around him. Cass was silly, but when he flipped that switch he could instantly go into business/serious mode and he was a force to be reckoned with. 

Cass and I met in a veteran Facebook group and became friends, and after hanging out and getting to know him and his absolutely ridiculous hunt for adrenaline rushes, I invited him along with another Army brother to go on a Great White Shark diving veteran retreat with Sportsmen for Warriors, the non-profit I work very closely with, because I knew it was right up his alley, and he deserved it. So, in Sept 2016 we flew to San Diego and embarked on a week long trip to Guadalupe Island with 18 other veterans and had the absolute time of our lives with sharks we could name by markings, catching tuna, taking selfies under water with the sharks, jumping in without wet suits and freezing, eating 5 star food, trying not to get sea sick with 10ft waves, and best of all making memories with new friends. 

He was a solid friend and good man to those around him. My heart and prayers go out to his wife and son for healing. 

FRANK CASS MILLER IV

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