December 2, 2012. I remember this day all too well, and December 3, 2012, which is strange because I don’t remember most of my life. These two days however, are clear, vivid, like watching a movie in IMAX. A movie that haunts me to this very day.

Let’s start with December 2. Abby and I were at Granny’s. It was a Sunday afternoon, the phone rang. It was you. Mama was just arriving at Granny’s to pick us up and take us back home with her. I remember Granny asking if I wanted to talk to you, I did not. I was handed the phone, but I had nothing to say to you. I was hurt, angry, and sad. I told you I was mad at you. Mad because you left once again to go raise a child who wasn’t even your own. You left me. You left us. You said you’d be coming home for Christmas, I was happy about that, excited even. I have always been a Daddy’s girl, all I wanted was my Daddy home. Since I didn’t want to talk to you, you asked to talk to Mama. I walked the phone out to her and let y’all talk. I remember Mama smiling and laughing while speaking with you. I later found out you had asked her to marry you again. She loved you, and truthfully now looking back, she would have married you again in a heartbeat. After y’all got off the phone, Abby and I loaded up in the car with Mama and headed home. The entire ride home I was still mad, but also very excited because in a few short weeks I’d get to see you again. So I thought anyway.

December 3, 2012. Monday morning, I was awoken with my phone being taken away. I had no idea what I had done wrong for my phone to be taken, I was very confused. Mama looked like she had been crying all night. Her eyes were swollen and red. She couldn’t tell me why she took my phone from me, so being the teenager that I was, of course I was irritated. I asked her what was wrong, she said she had a toothache all night and didn’t get any sleep. I got ready for school like it was a normal day. I remember I was wearing hot pink pants, a black shirt, and black boots. We left home, the same time as usual, like we were headed to school. I would have never guessed the horrors that awaited us. We stopped at Nana’s, this was unusual, especially since we were going to be late for school at this point. I remember being so agitated because not only do I not have my phone, now I’m going to be late for school. After Nana’s, we stopped at Granny’s. Immediately I knew something was wrong. Aunt Sam’s car was in the driveway, she lived in Kentucky at this time so why was she there? Granny was sitting on the porch in her pajamas, housecoat, and slippers. We got out of the car, and Granny’s face looked just like Mama’s. Eyes red and swollen like she’d been crying all night. Now I am aware this is not another toothache. It was never a toothache.

Granny tells us to go in and sit on her bed. Abby and I do as were told, we sit on the end of her bed. Granny then proceeds to kneel down in front of us, touching the both of us with her hands, and says, “Your Daddy was in an accident, and he didn’t make it.” I finally understand why my phone was taken, why everyone’s eyes were red and swollen, why everything that morning was a bit off. My world just went black. My heart shattered. Everything inside me died that day. That is the first time I ever had thoughts of suicide. Fourteen years old, and my Daddy had died. I didn’t even get to tell him goodbye. He died thinking that I hated him. I did not get to tell him I loved him, I missed him, I just wanted him to come home. I refused to speak to him when I had the chance just hours before he departed from this world. He died not knowing how much he meant to me. After we were told of the tragedy that occurred, we had to go home and pack our bags. We were going to Illinois. The bags were packed and we headed back to Granny’s, but now Papa was home too. A sound that I will never forget, is the sound of a grown man I have never seen shed one single tear, screaming, sobbing, and wailing. The sound of him mourning his son was loud enough to hear from outside of the house. To this day I can still hear his cries.

The week following your death is a blur. I remember key moments. I remember Aunt Sam nearly killing us trying to drive to the court house. You were actually going to court to see if the child you left Tennessee for was yours. I remember staying at Silly Willy’s and everyone went to view your body, but we were not allowed to go. I remember them talking about your body being “mangled”. I remember sitting at Silly Willy’s kitchen table trying to help pick songs to play at your funeral. I remember going to pick out your casket. I remember picking out your favorite cologne to spray on you. I remember when we had your visitation in Illinois and we were the first to view you. I remember not being able to walk down the aisle, nearly falling to my knees, sobbing my eyes out. That could not be MY Daddy laying in this casket. No. Not mine. But it was. Thankfully, Aunt Sam was there to pick me up and help me walk. I remember finally leaving, and Mama was the last person to say goodbye to you. We all gave her privacy. I remember going out to eat with everyone afterward and we all took a picture with the signature Billy Gray middle finger.

We brought you back home to Tennessee, in the bed of Papa’s truck. I remember riding behind it and still not believing that you were in that casket, you were really gone. I remember burying you, six feet in the ground. You were home for Christmas that year, just not the way I had expected. I remember everything, and sometimes, I wish I didn’t.

Since you’ve been gone, it does feel like the world has stopped spinning. I died that day and I don’t think I have ever come back to life yet. In fact, everyone died. A piece of every single one of us died on December 2, 2012. Some have handled your death better than others, but nonetheless, not one of us is okay. You do not expect to bury your father as a teenager. A parent does not expect to bury their child. Siblings do not expect to bury their sibling at such a young age. Especially, when you’re completely blindsided by it.

I always sit and wonder about the “what if’s”. What if you were still alive? Would things be as bad as they are? Would I be the way that I am? Would our family be as dysfunctional as it is now? The “what if’s” and “why’s” will eat you alive if you’re not careful. I have had my fair share of being eaten alive by them. I have had to accept that I cannot change what has happened, I cannot go back in time. I just have to believe you’re still here with me, believe that you know I love you and I always have, believe that you are in a better place.

You turned the last page of your book here on earth. I will cherish that book forever, hold it tightly in my soul. This December will mark 11 years, and I miss you more than I could ever put into words. I am still my Daddy’s little girl. I always will be. You were the first man I loved, and the first to break my heart. Unfortunately, grief never goes away, time does not fade the emotions and feelings. However, it is how you deal with the grief that is the key. Truth be told, I have not handled it very well. I have cursed God’s name, lost faith in everything, spiraled into destructive habits. Lots of times just HOPING it would in some sense bring me closer to you. I am now hoping one day my world will begin to spin again, maybe life will form in the parts of me that died. I will keep trying down here on earth, remember your legacy, for I am just as hard headed and stubborn as you. In the meantime, it is what it is. I will take it day by day until we meet again. When that day comes, be prepared for a fight because you left me down here without you, tears, laughter, and most of all an abundance of love. I will never let you go.

Your little girl,