February 7, 2003
Worst day of my life.
I never knew what “empty” felt like. I never thought I would feel so alone.
I lost my best friend to a tragic heart attack. He was not only a friend, he was my hero, mentor, comfort, role model, my everything.
I call him Dad.
On the day of his death, I was a sophomore at Savannah Christian Prep School. I was called out of class and greeted by my cousin who informed me that “the doctors had my dad.” A sentence I will never forget. A sentence that rang through my head for what seemed like a three hour car ride to Memorial hospital.
After jumping out of a still moving vehicle, I ran faster than lightening into the sliding glass doors to see a sea of people. -everyone seemed to know but me and my sister-
Seemed to know that not only the doctors have my dad, but that my dad had passed away. My world seemed to become foggy and the room seemed to spin. I found myself on the cold tile floor. How could this happen? Why? I was angry then sad; mad then felt sick.
I didn’t know what was going to happen from this point on. And honestly didn’t care to think about it. I just wanted him back.
The next seven years, three months and 22 days have proved to never get easier.
A thousand words won’t bring you back I know because I’ve tried, neither will a million tears I know because I’ve cried.