Me and my Father in our home in Georgia around the time of the 1996 Olympics. I was 3 years old in this picture. He was my best friend and first True Love.

On Saturday February 22nd 2020 I decided to get a sew-in in Midtown Atlanta by an amazing celebrity hair stylist AT 7AM. Why sis? Lol well I certainly didn’t want to spend my Saturday getting my hair done all day so I thought, let’s start early. I didn’t know that as I sat in that chair it would be the last time I ever felt scared to do anything, it would be the last time I didn’t speak my mind or go for something.

My mom called my crying and let me know that my father was found in his home dead the night before. I started shaking and tearing up but in a controlled kind of way. I started talking about how kind he was and how happy I last saw him. I started thinking about the good. I also immediately thought about his birthday 67th birthday being on April 22nd. I started thinking about who I needed to call at work, I started thinking about how I could get to New Road, Louisiana as soon as possible.

Do I drive the 8 hours alone? Will my boyfriend be able to come with me? Oh shit I should probably call my boyfriend. I call him and I cry.

My phone started blowing up. Aunts I speak to once a year, aunts I speak to all the time, cousins, cousins, ugh so many people calling me. Why? What do they want? Are they sorry? Did they love him? I don’t know what to tell them. I don’t know what to say.

I have only been to a handful of funerals before my dad’s:

At 16 years old I went to my 16 year old friends funeral Benjamin Bernard Bynum.
At 23 I went to my 24 year old friend’s funeral who left behind two young daughters under the age of 2.
My friend Tomorrow Milford was murdered.
Gloria Parker