Nothing Else Matters

As I sit here, reflecting on the last few days, listening to “Charleston Girl” and drinking bourbon, because that somehow makes me feel closer to you, I just want to say, YOU STUPID PRICK…WHY COULD YOU NOT JUST GO TO THE DAMN DOCTOR?! I am so, so angry with you, and it is eating me alive. For days I have cried until my eyes ache. With all the loss I suffered and then you so unexpectedly, my heart is shattered into a million little pieces. I have asked so many questions that only you can answer. I have wondered why you felt like you didn’t need to fix these problems? Were you in pain? Did you leave this world thinking something insanely stupid like the thought you used to preach to me, that you had no friends, and that no one loved you? Dude, for a man that thought he wasn’t really loved and didn’t have any friends; you had one hell of a turnout for your memorial.

Not only did you have a huge turnout, people were mourning you. People were sad, and are sad, and hurt, and confused, and just extremely pissed at you for not taking better care of yourself. Poor Megan drove all the way from Florida, broke down, waited 5 hours on a tow truck, and had two flats. It was like something out of Planes, Trains, and Automobiles, or just some of your crazy bad luck, trying to make it from Florida to say goodbye to you. And then there was me and Tara. I know you were enjoying the fact that we got lost in Grassy Branch and had to ask poor ole Dexter for directions. Here we are, running late, went the wrong way once, passed it up once, no road sign, freaking out, cussing this road (and you), and I know you were kicked back laughing hysterically somewhere watching and listening to this mess. I know you heard us talking to you. Mostly me, asking for your help, ya know, since this was your final show and all.

God. It sounds so weird to type that.  Your final show. How can this even be real? We’ve been close since we were kids. You were one of the first people I told about my divorce. We had so many random times the last year and a half. Not so much the last few months I know, work got hectic, you did your thing and I did mine. But I thought we had more time. I needed more time. I’m not ready to say goodbye to my brother. The guy who always had my back, no matter what. Who will take your place? No one – absolutely no one.

Although, I keep wondering how you survived as long as you did. Living in a new world every day. Living on hope and faith. Never knowing where you’d be from one minute to the next, or how you’d get there and back, but going anyway. How you’d get out of all these messes that you got in. The Lord and the Universe definitely looked out for you. All those times you weren’t sober enough to drive. All those times you broke down beside the road. All those times you made poor choices but somehow lived to tell the tale. I wish I had your outlook, your zest to live, but especially after this last week I’m left in a pretty dark place. There are so many things I wished I’d told you. So many things I wish we’d have gotten to do. But, I missed the boat. And I’m sorry.

I am so grateful for the time that we did have. We made so many memories the last couple years. The times you came to the lake, when you stole that beer bucket for me at Oasis, the time you randomly called me to come play Bingo with you and Truman – my first and last time playing Bingo. And the time you called me to come to that rock concert at Manchester Music Hall, I got a speeding ticket on the way and then you talked to me mean when I wouldn’t stay in Lex that night but had forgotten by the next morning you were even angry.  All the late night Snapchat conversations. Bitching about life because we were the only two people awake. Reminiscing on the good times. Crying over the bad. I feel so guilty that I didn’t come to you the umpteen other times you asked.

I am so mad at you though. Angry. I don’t want to be, but I am. I’m mad you didn’t take better care of yourself.  I’m mad you never listened to anyone and you had to be so stubborn. I’m mad that you didn’t take the time to go to the doctor and try to hang around until we were old and senile. I needed to be around to hear tales about you playing tricks on the nurses at the old folks home. I needed you to be that guy in his 80s sneaking out of the home to go to a rock concert. You were so young. And then on the other hand, I’m jealous. I’m jealous that you were smart enough to come up with this radio gig and find a way into anything and everything. I’m jealous that you got to see so much and do so much and you found a way around all these responsibilities. But I’m also sad. I’m sad you left behind so many people who loved you. Scott and Monica and Bailey. Charlene and Karen and Brittany and all this family and all these friends.  We loved you, you jackass. And now you’re gone.

Speaking of all the friends. DUDE. Do you know how awkward the high school reunion was at your visitation? I sat there and looked around the room and for a minute I was sitting in the commons area freshman year. It was as if I was transported back in time. Do you remember those days? The days of your frosted tips and Utopia X? The days of playing practical jokes on teachers and laughing for days. I remember thinking I was so cool as a freshman because you were a senior dating Tara and you let me hang around with you all. You were like my big brother then. Always making fun of me, and then giving me a big hug to make it all better. You and those effing hugs. I can’t believe I will never get another one. I wish I had appreciated my youth, and you, more than I did.

Speaking of youth. I say you were young, but you had an old soul. I know that because so do I. You lived one hell of a life in your 35 years. You visited a lot of places, you seen a lot of bands, a lot of Nascar races, you made a lot of friends. When I said I was jealous, I wasn’t lying, but if there’s anything that I took away from your death, it’s how precious life is. We could leave this earth at any moment. Some of us maybe tomorrow. I think some of us are caring a little less these days about life. I know you had demons. I know you sometimes felt like you were alone and no one loved you and as silly as that was, I can understand. I can even relate, sometimes. But you really had no idea how many lives you touched while on this earth. I have grieved for days. Not just for you, but for so many I’ve lost in such a short time. This world isn’t fair and we never understand the plan that God has for our lives, but we’re told to accept it. We’re told to mourn the dead and keep on going for the living. But, that’s easier said than done.

I think the general consensus was, knowing your sense of humor, you were playing this joke on us. I think we all expected you to just pop up out of that casket and be like, “GOTCHA! You motherf***ers ought to know you can’t get rid of me yet.”

But, you didn’t. And you didn’t yesterday, when we all sat there at your graveside service saying our final goodbyes. But I think you would have enjoyed it. I think you were somewhere laughing at everyone trying to pack you up that hill. And I heard after we left you got one awesome send off. The thing is, I know you wouldn’t want us sad, or depressed, or mourning you like we all are. You’d want us to be rocking out somewhere having the time of our lives. But some of us aren’t. Some of us will be grieving for a while. Yesterday, someone said to me, “with great love comes great loss.” Boy, did that hit hard. Because I love a lot of people. I may not be a saint, but I give 150% to everything I do and when I love, I love hard. The hardest. I don’t know how to let go of people. I don’t know how to give up on people. I don’t know how to not be the person that tries to save everyone and be there for everyone and put people before myself. That’s not a brag, but that is me coming to a realization after the last few weeks that I am a good person. Too good for some people, and apparently not good enough for others. I live alone. I have no children. I have nothing that I thought I would have at this point in my life, and if I died tomorrow, I don’t know that I would have anything epic to put on my tombstone. I would have nothing, other than the fact that I loved a lot of people, and lost a lot of people, and I tried to help as many people as I could. I never want anyone to feel the amount of loss and rejection that I have felt in my life over the course of the last 12 years. Or the last 4 months. I think I have lost more in the last 4 months than the last 12 years, but, it doesn’t really matter. It is what it is, as they say. Nothing you can do but move forward, right?

I will never know for sure, but I will always assume that you wanted me to come see you in the hospital a couple weeks ago. I should have. But I was so busy with work, and trying to get ready to leave for California that I didn’t come. And even if you had asked me, I don’t know if it would have changed a thing. That bothers me, too. I have said it before, but I thought I had more time. All of us, we thought we had more time.  We wish we did. And now, it’s too late.

I didn’t intend for this to turn into a thing about regret, but I seem to be collecting a lot of that these days. I know you are in a better place and you aren’t holding any grudges, but I’m disappointed in myself. I wish I had told you what you meant to me when you were here. I wish I had told you a lot of things. I wish I had done more to help you stay a while longer. This still feels like a bad dream. It still feels like some kind of horrible joke. A really not funny one. But, nothing can be done to change it, only to learn from it.

I do take comfort, oddly enough, that you went out in a blaze of glory doing what you loved. That’s all we could hope for you, and for ourselves, to go out in a way that we can appreciate. Everyone grieves differently. I close myself off. I jam the tunes and drink alone. Maybe not the healthiest, but it is how I cope. It’s how you coped sometimes, too. I hope you knew you were loved. I hope you knew what you meant to so many people. We lived vicariously through you. You weren’t the butt of our jokes. Instead, you were the guy we wanted to be the most like. You were the friend we all knew we needed but never understood. You were the best, the absolute best. And this was one of the hardest things I have ever had to write. But, I owed it to you. You will always be my brother. My bingo partner. The guy who had my back since my earliest memories of childhood exist. You loved people so much, and I don’t know if you ever really knew we loved you that much back.  I can hear you singing that stupid line that made you cackle so much, “I don’t know if it’s the wine or the coke, that makes her sound like her jaw is broke…” and your famous line, “THAT’S AWESOME.”

You were awesome. You were loved. And you will be forever missed. If I’m ever blessed enough with kids, I’ll tell them about you. I’ll tell them how you looked out for me. How you guilted me over the stupidest things. How much you loved Metallica and rock concerts. How much you loved, period. And I’m gonna tell them that I was blessed to have known you. And although I know how much you loved the song, “Nothing Else Matters,” you should know that you mattered. Your life mattered. Your whole outlook and the way you loved us and touched our lives, it all mattered.

You never know the value of a moment until it becomes a memory. Rock on bub, and save me a seat. I’ll see you when I get there. <3

How I Wish...How I Wish You Were Here

I don’t even know where to begin. I guess, maybe the beginning. Circa, February 2008. My first week at Hyden Citizens Bank. Maybe the first day. I was standing in my teller window, when a sucker landed in front of me. And then another hit me on the head. I looked up, and a man was standing on the second floor in the open with a big grin on his face. And so begin the entrance of Ray Brewer into my life.

Tina Caldwell was standing beside me and she said, “That’s Ray. He’s just saying hello.” It wasn’t long before I learned the connection between Ray, and the flamboyant elderly woman who worked down at the end teller window, Betty. Betty was a character. And, she was Ray’s mother in law. Two weeks after I started, Betty had a stroke at work, and she never returned to work. I had only worked with her a couple weeks, but she was full of personality and I had already gotten attached to her.

Betty was from the old school, so to speak. She was full of innuendo and nicknames. When I was headed down to the kitchen to grab a pop she’d holler at me and say, “grab me a diet doctor pecker.” And that was just the tip of the iceberg. She had nicknames for everyone. She started out calling me Blondie, but she decided she didn’t care as much for that, so it went to Dagwood. For all of those who don’t know, it’s from an old cartoon that used to be in the paper, “Dagwood and Blondie.” It sure is funny thinking about something so important from my childhood, like cartoons in the Lexington Herald, being a thing of the past, but, it is.

Anyway, I had gotten so attached to Betty that I would go see her at her home as often as I could. I would take her butterscotch candy because she loved it. Sugar free, of course.  But that was the beginning I think of when Ray adopted me. I don’t even remember when I started calling him Pap, but at some point I started and never stopped. And he was. He was like my dad. Don’t get me wrong, I have the best dad in the world, but Ray was a great second dad. He did all the fatherly things. He gave me advice. He was always there when I needed him. When my vehicle wouldn’t start, when I needed encouragement. When I needed someone to believe in me. When I needed a random gift, and there was no shortage of those.

For over 10 years, Ray Brewer blessed my life. Yesterday, I had to say goodbye, for the last time. I was not prepared, especially since hearing the news the day before that a life long friend had died unexpectedly. I have been mostly numb since, but, the tribute to his life was something spectacular.

Yesterday, Fred Brashear spoke of Ray and described him as best that anyone could have, and as best I would know how. He said the two words that most described Ray were, “Love” and “Servant.” He could not have been more accurate. Ray gave his life to Hyden Citizens Bank, and this community. I have heard more than once how Ray only took one vacation, to Myrtle Beach for just a few days, and he was miserable. But that didn’t mean that Ray didn’t enjoy himself. He loved being here, helping others. He loved seeing people get the things they need, or didn’t need. He really loved giving them things they needed, or didn’t need. Over the years I can’t begin to tell you the things he’s given me. The countless times he was there for me.

In 2011, when I had my first real heartbreak, and I was barely eating enough to stay alive, he came to my teller window one day with a blue bottle, like an old medicine bottle with a cork in it.  He told me there were feel good pills inside it. They were actually peanut butter M&Ms. But it made me smile, and it did make me feel better, if only for a few brief moments.

When I took my CCDW class, I forgot to bring a gun. Yeah…I know. Blonde moments are my specialty. Anyway, I got Ray, and he found me a gun. And I got my concealed carry with his gun. I still have my big poster I shot at. Not my best work, but I’ll always remember that I was able to accomplish that with his help. He also took the photo that I had to send in for the photo on the card. Ray was an every step of the way type of guy.

Not too many years ago, I was in the bank, and at the time I still worked there. Ray was a collector of many things, some he used, some he didn’t. I mentioned wanting a vinyl record player. A couple hours later I was notified that Ray had something for me. Guess what it was – a vinyl record player. If you mentioned to Ray that you liked something, you’d have it very soon. I still have a Cross pen that I haven’t taken out of the box. It’s a $40+ pen. I always thought, what if I lost it? So, it’s still in the box, and that’s where it will stay, because it means that much to me, because Ray gave it to me.

Once when I couldn’t get my car started, and I couldn’t get a hold of dad, Ray was my next call. And he came straight to me. And he fixed my car. And on my way I went.

When I had surgery to have my appendix removed, he offered to drive his humongous RV all the way to Cincinnati to pick me up so that I could lie down on the way home and be more comfortable.

My most favorite memories of Ray, though, were always how I could hear him before I could see him. And I don’t mean he was loud when he talked. Well, he kinda was, I guess, but that’s not what I’m referring to. I mean how he listened to old school Rock n’ Roll – Pink Floyd especially – at deafening levels. Once I rode with him to Louisville to set up the booth for Leslie County for the state fair and we jammed the entire way. I couldn’t really hear for a day or two when we got back, but it was worth the temporary deafness. We always had a love of music in common. He always kept music playing upstairs.

As most people who knew him can attest, he always told you to turn it off and back on in order to fix it. It became this running joke at the bank, and before we called Ray we would unplug it, turn it off and back on, and restart it. Because we knew he was going to say to try those three things first.

Ray loved to cook, and I loved to eat his cooking. Although sometimes he didn’t know when to quit adding ingredients. He had some meat for Relay once, and it was PERFECT. Delicious. But, he kept thinking it would be better. No recipe, just grabbing random stuff out of the cabinets. Random packets of sauce that were in the fridge, saved from just as a random assortment of restaurants. He did that until I could no longer eat it. But for a minute, it was the best thing I’d ever tasted.

However, a year or two later he redeemed himself. It was another Relay for Life – this time held on Main Street. It was 4:00 in the morning. Hardly anyone was left, but we had gathered in the lobby of the bank. Ray disappeared downstairs, and a little while later I could smell something that I can only describe as Heaven. He came back with a plateful of Bourbon Maple Bacon. It was probably the best thing I’ve ever eaten. And I will always remember it.

The thing about Ray, is that there are no bad memories. I have no bad memories with Ray. He was Ray. He was my pap. He was my second dad. He loved me, and I may never know how much. I have felt for the longest time that I let him down with my divorce. I know it hurt his heart. But I have decided that even though in my heart I know it was a mistake to be married, I feel like the reason and purpose was so that Ray could be the one to marry me while he was here and alive, so that I could keep my promise to him. I made that promise to him the day I found out he was licensed to do so. Long before I was ever with my ex husband. And the thing is, he performed the most perfect ceremony I have ever witnessed. And I know it was because he loved me so much, he wanted it to be perfect. I am sorry he had to hurt over us not making it, but I will always have fond memories of that day because Ray was there, and he did an amazing job.

There are so many memories with Ray. I could write an entire book on the things and memories that were Ray Brewer. Working on floats for the bank, him talking me into dressing up as the Cookie Monster one year, riding in the back and freezing to death with Tracy dressed as the Gingerbread man, so many Relay for Life nights, so many meals, so many dinners, so much sweet tea or as he called it, Sun tea, which always turned out delicious. He was always with a camera taking pictures when you didn’t want to be photographed. Now, I wish I had taken more.

This has definitely been the hardest week that I have experienced since losing my granny in 2007. Not only did I have to say goodbye to Ray yesterday, but Saturday I learned that a lifelong friend, a close friend, one of the best people I knew, had died unexpectedly of a heart attack. At times, I have felt like I’m drowning. I never expected to lose Ray this soon. I thought someday he could be the one to perform my next wedding ceremony (laugh if you must, it’s OK). I thought someday I would be able to share news with him that I would be a mom. I thought someday he and Laine could babysit my future child(ren). And none of those things may happen. But even if they do, Ray won’t be here to see them. That’s what hurts the most, knowing that there are going to be important moments in my life that he will miss out on.

No matter what, now I know for sure that Ray will be my guardian angel. He will be there to guide me, and protect me, and be a voice of reason in my head when I’m not sure. And I know that he will send me signs.

Ray was one of the best men I have ever known. He just happened to be friends with my other second dad, Cabbage Patch. I don’t know what I will do without Ray now. Papa Patch is gonna have to fill a double roll, I guess. Papa Patch is pretty protective over me, so that helps. Two very extraordinary men that I am blessed, and was blessed, to have in my life. I was so afraid I wouldn't make it back home from California in time to say Goodbye. And even though he was in Hospice and he was unresponsive, I know in my heart and soul that he knew I was there. 

Possibly the sweetest thing I have ever heard, was the story that Laine told at the funeral. She said that Ray told her that when she was able to replace the word “Love” in 1 Corinthians 13:4-8, that she would be ready to marry him. And she read it with his name, and I felt my heart break even more. She said he was her person. And they were perfect. She has been a tough woman to put up with Ray and all his quirks. But she has never failed to treat me like her own and be my second mama. Laine, if you read this, please know that I love you dearly, and I have nothing but immense appreciation and respect for you – as a woman, as a mother, and as a wife. And you are such an important role model in my life. Thank you for everything you have done for me, and for all the love and devotion you gave to pap.

I know there are so many things I should say, and there are so many things that have already been said. But I am long winded and I tend to go overboard with these things, especially when I pay tribute to someone close to me. But there are too many memories to write. There are too many words that I could use to describe this important man that meant so much to my life, and will always mean so much to my life. He had a vital role in my life, and part of me will always be a little bit lost without him. But I am not alone, everyone that knew him will be a bit lost now. His absence is already being felt. His heart was the size of continents. He gave everything he had to make sure the community stayed afloat – fundraisers, veterans day projects, movies in the park, Halloween, Christmas, Relay for Life – you name it and Ray was a part of it. He was one of the most loved people this community has ever seen. And he chose me as a daughter of the heart. He chose me, to love and care for and encourage and invest in, and I am such a better person because of him.

Pap, I intended to write this as a tribute before you passed. I wanted you to know just how important you were to me, and how much I loved you. I should have told you more. I should have spent more time with you. I just thought I had more time. I didn’t want to accept you were leaving us. But I know you are one of Heaven’s brightest shining angels now, and you know how much you were loved. Thank you for every single thing you did for me – big or small – because every thing meant the world to me. You made me a better person. You added an extra size to my heart. You helped my heart be filled with love and positivity. You pushed me to do better, and be better, and you never gave up on me. You knew I was destined for great things. You loved me, no matter what. And I will love you, forever. Rest in Peace my sweet Pap. You were one of a kind, and you made this world a better place. I hope those of us who knew and loved you can carry on your grace and remind every one of your legacy.

Pink Floyd said it best – “How I wish…How I wish you were here.” And at least for the time being, "I have become...comfortably numb."  

 

I Don't Know About You...But I'm Feeling 32...

As much as I loathe Taylor Swift in every form and fashion, I kinda had to steal that title from her. I know it’s actually 22, but I ain’t felt 22 since I was about 12. Right now I have the back of a 62 year old, I don’t sleep, and I tend to eat Ibuprofen and melatonin like candy. Life can be a pain in the ass.

If you look in my high school yearbook, or one of those Jostens Scrapbook things from Senior year (Yes, I’m that Old…), I’m pretty sure there is a section about what you’ll be doing 5 years from now and 10 years from now, and so on. I distinctly remember that where I am now was not part of that plan. I think I had planned to have a home and a family and be stable in my career by 25.

Let’s all laugh together.

When I was 25, I was just starting law school. I had taken a while to decide what I wanted to do with my life. And truthfully, my life has always been a bit of a sideways endeavor. By that I mean, it’s never played out like I thought or hoped it would at the time. When I was in law school, I never, ever, ever planned on doing work for the DPA. Yet, here I am, in all my glory, a public defender. I guess the old adage about “If you wanna hear God laugh, just make a plan,” is true after all. Where I am is not at all where I thought I’d be.

I thought by this age, I’d have a couple kids, a steady career, and a husband who adores me. Turns out, I’m divorced, men tend to run from me, my career may be steady, but it rocks like a boat in a hurricane most days, and I have no children, the one thing I wanted most in the world. Instead, I am the proud mother of a German Shepherd and a Basset Hound. Both of which are moody, clumsy, and full of personality – just like me.  They keep me entertained so I guess that’s enough right now. But who knows what the future has in store. Only God knows that.

Anywho, I thought that I would celebrate my big 3-2 by looking back on my 32 years. I mean, it’s not that spectacular. I lead a pretty boring life, but I’d like to think that I’ve accomplished a few things worth talking about.

Maybe, maybe not. You can be the judge of that.

When I turned 30, I was in a completely different place in life. I had a husband, I was days away from finding out that I had passed the bar exam with a new career ahead. I had a beautiful home (which took YEARS to finish, and I still wasn’t done) that I had picked out and remodeled every inch of, perfecting every tiny thing to suit my taste. I had great friends, I had a great family, and it looked like the future was getting brighter by the day. But, I knew something was missing. From the outside looking in, you’d never seen two happier people. But, I knew I wasn’t happy. I was going through the motions. I was forcing something that would never be right. I was putting on a face. Which, sadly, I had become talented at doing.

Frank and I were two different people. We had few to no common interests. We liked movies, and we liked to eat. It was a constant battle to find a compromise, which usually ended with one of us just going along for the other and forcing happiness. Neither wanted to admit it, but we made a mistake. We let the fan club and the need to be with somebody overshadow what we really needed – to be with someone who understood the other and accepted that person for who they were, without the constant need to try to change them – which had essentially been what we had become.

Sometimes, things just aren’t meant to be. And it wasn’t fair to continue lying to myself anymore. I’d been unhappy for a while and it was time to just be the people we were, without judgment, ridicule, or fighting to be different.

The problem with that for me, unfortunately, was I didn’t know who the hell I was.

Go figure.

For 30 years, I had been a puppet. Anybody could be the master – if you had a task for me, I aimed to please.

I. Never. Said. No.

Work shifts, volunteer boards, community events, bridal showers, weddings, baby showers, concerts, fundraisers, etc. – whatever you needed from me, whoever or whatever you needed me to be – I was on board. If you needed me to make 6 casseroles by tomorrow morning, I was your girl. If you needed me to work your shift – I got you. If you needed me to plan your party and spend a fortune even though you didn’t even show up and I lost a fortune – it was cool, no worries. As my dad would (not so) lovingly say, I rode every bus that stopped. And I needed that acceptance. I needed to be needed. I had conditioned myself to be what was needed, what was loved, what was celebrated. I worried about my reputation. I worried about everything. I was that person who constantly asked myself “what would people think?’ or “what would people say?” I was paranoid that if I said ‘no’ that Heaven forbid, nobody would love me anymore. I was becoming exhausted, and way too old before my time.

Now, having said that, I will tell you that I still ask those questions, and I still worry. But, I worry a lot less. And do you know why? Because I am comfortable with who I am. For the first time in my life, I know exactly who I am.

Who am I? I AM SO GLAD YOU ASKED THAT. Let me continue.

When I was in law school, I really should have done less coming home and more studying. Instead, I put the people I loved, the people who were important to me, before myself. I didn’t do as well as I could have because I kept up that idea that I had to say Yes. I had to be there for everything and everyone. I couldn’t live with myself if I thought I disappointed someone. I traveled home between final exams for funerals. I would fill every weekend with birthday parties or weddings or community and church events and I never slowed down.

By the second year, it was catching up with me. I had to have an emergency appendectomy. I took about 4 days of recovery time. I was back to school on Monday. By the third year, my gallbladder was on its last legs and less than a month before my law school graduation, I had to have surgery to remove it as well. Yet, I never really quit. That is one thing I have never known how to do – give up, on anything or anyone. People almost always end up giving up on me before I give up on them.

So fast forward two years after graduation, when I finally pass not one, but two, bar exams, and finally feel like I’ve accomplished something with my life, shortly after, I began to feel like a complete failure. There I was, doing the one thing I said I’d never do – getting divorced. I was gonna be a “one and done” kinda gal. Yet, again, I say, “if you wanna hear God laugh, just make a plan.” I was shunned by people I thought loved me. Whom I thought would support me and be there and be my friend no matter what. In times of trials and trouble, you learn who your friends are. I had to pick myself up for the most part. My own mother didn’t even support me. That was one of the toughest times of my life, and I became a stronger person because of it. This is where I started learning who I was.

First and foremost, I learned that sometimes, you have to put yourself first. You have to do what you feel is best for you, and what makes you happy, because life is too short and happiness is too rare. For the first time in my life, I did something completely for me, no one else. I needed to figure out who I was, what I liked, what I wanted out of life, without trying to please someone else, or 20 other people for that matter.

In order to do this, I had to find some solitude. I had to find some place to go that was mine. I bought a little camper on Norris Lake and didn’t tell anybody. I would escape there on the weekends and disappear, just hoping for a bit of relief. Somewhere I could be at peace, because peace was something I had been missing in my life. I realized I had spent so much time pleasing other people, doing what I was told, or what I thought would make someone else happy, that I had completely lost focus on what made me happy. I ended up becoming part of a family there on the lake, spending time with people who liked me for who I was, even though I was still figuring that out. Even something as simple as figuring out if I liked the lake and the water – I figured out that I loved it. I found this whole other life and this whole group of people that helped put my broken pieces back together, and for that I will forever be grateful.

Here is something else I learned about myself – I like tattoos. No, I LOVE them. I have 8 now. In just over a year, I have accumulated all 8. And… I have a list of at least 5 more (Sorry Mother and Aunt Robin, but I know you still love me!) Do you know why I love them? Because I can tell a story with them. I can live out my journey with them. I can remind myself every day what I’ve been through and how strong I am, just in case I forget. One of my most favorites is my largest tattoo, a phoenix, with the words “still I rise.” I’m a huge fan of this story, the myth that the Phoenix rises from the ashes more beautiful than before. I identify with this so much because I have risen from the ashes. I have walked through the fire to be what I am now. I have sacrificed bits of my soul to be the person I am today. And I am so proud of me.

Something else I learned about me – I like the taste of beer. And I like bars. And that doesn’t make me a bad person. I like Pat’s Snack Bar.  I like to support my friends when they play music. I like to have a beer on a hot day at the lake while I’m floating around. I also like Bourbon – as any true Kentuckian – and this also doesn’t make me a bad person. It means I like the taste of something. It means I get enjoyment from atmosphere and from social drinking. I am not a drunkard, I am not an alcoholic, and I am not addicted to anything. Except maybe Diet Mountain Dew and Bang Energy drinks, but that’s another story.  

Here is the most important thing I learned – I don’t have to change who I am to please anyone. The right people will love who I am, regardless. I am a great person, but am I going to take the time to explain why, or try to prove that to anyone? No. If you know me, then you know my character, you know who I am, and hopefully, you know my worth. If you know me, and you don’t know any of those things, then that’s not my problem. If you don’t know me, and you judge me based on the opinions or gossip of others, then that is also not my problem. But the people who know me, they know who I am, they know what I bring to the table, and they love me for it.

There’s a random meme on Facebook that says something like “someone who has known you 3 months can have better intentions for you than someone you’ve known 3 years.” That’s the truth. You know who I spend most of my time with Monday through Friday? People in my office and some of the staff and the staff in court security at the Perry County courthouse. They have known me at best a year, some less than 5 months. But you know what, they are my family. They know who I am. They do their best to love me and to protect me and pick me up when I’m down. And I have no doubts that any of them would help me if I needed it. They already do. They feed me, make me laugh, and they cheer me up when I have tears in my eyes. They leave notes on my car or hide notes in my dockets. That’s the best I can expect from anyone, to want what’s best for me and to help me through my bad days without expecting anything in return.  And for that, I am both blessed and grateful.

I still haven’t really got to who I am, which I have figured out over the past couple years. But let me tell you, I am something else. Besides being an awesome person with a huge heart that does anything and everything I can to be loyal to and take care of the people important to me (and even those not so important to me):

I. Am. A. Hot. Southern. Mess.

And I’m not talking about my looks. Nope. I am talking about my glowing personality, my quirks, the things that make me tick. I forget to eat. I forget to breathe sometimes. I’m late every day of my life.

Every. Single. Day.

For anything. Everything. I am literally never on time. People who know me know this about me and they adjust accordingly. I thought it was a phase but, no, this is apparently just who I am as a person. But the weird thing is, even though I am late and scatterbrained, I am actually well organized. I like things in its place. Well, everywhere except my car. I live out of my car and it looks most of the time like I haul a bunch of toddlers around, but I don’t, it’s just me and all my messed up glory.

Also, I dry my hair with my car heater. If its summer, I just don’t dry it. That’s how little I care. Can I? No, because I’m usually late. But if its winter, hell yeah, drying my hair, putting my makeup on in my car. Whatevs. This is me, take me or leave me. You know what else, half the time I don’t wear makeup. Again, this is how little I care. I just don’t. If you don’t like me without it, why would you like me with it? Do I enjoy dressing up and putting on nice clothes and makeup and looking like an actual human being and not a homeless person? YES! I DO. When I have time. Do I have a lot of that to throw around? Generally, no. We’ve went over that.

You know what else, my clothing style is about as effed up as it can get. I don’t follow trends. I barely follow a pattern of any kind. I like Lilly Pulitzer. I have a closet full. It’s bright and fun and you know what else? THAT SHIT IS EXPENSIVE. I also have a closet full of flannel. I LOVE FLANNEL. Gimme flannel and jeans and boots and a good pocketknife, and I am the happiest person on earth. I feel like an accomplished human. Is that how I dress for court? No. I gotta try to look like a lady. I can pull it off, but it ain’t really my fave. You know what though, I ain’t really a lady, and when I open my mouth, that’s pretty clear. I do love dresses. Weird, I know. But that’s me, the weirdo. And proud of it. You know why? Because I know there is literally not another person on this earth like me.

When I say I ain’ t a lady, I’m like a Miranda Lambert song – and let’s face it, she’s my idol – comfortable in her own skin, proud of who she is, not fat but not a stick, unapologetically herself, and that is who I strive to be. In her song “Only Prettier” she says, “I got a mouth like a sailor and yours is more like a Hallmark card.” It’s me, I am the sailor, at times anyway. Do I watch my wording around people? Yes, because I am a respectful adult who appreciates and respects others. I adjust accordingly to my company because that’s polite, and I try to always be polite. But if you are what I would call good company, you’re not surprised at my shortcomings with language (looking at you, psych court peeps).

And, Yes, I did mention a pocketknife earlier. I almost always pack a pocketknife. You never know when you gonna have to shank somebody. You just don’t. And the people who know me and travel with me always make me giggle because if we’re going to a concert and we get about halfway to the door they will say, “did you remember to leave your knife?!” Most of the time, I do, in fact, remember. But if you didn’t know that about me, well, surprise.

You know what else I love? Driving. I love nothing better than to roll my windows down, throw my sunroof back, crank the tunes and drive, as long as my legs (and my bladder) can stand it. I literally don’t care. I have always loved driving. I love being on the road. Day, night, whenever. I feel at home on the road. I guess I take that after my dad, like most other things.

I like to talk. I don’t care, I will talk to anyone. I like to make people laugh. I like to cheer people up. I like to be nice to the fast food window worker or the Wal-Mart greeter; I just like to be friendly. Unless you’re not friendly, and then, I don’t really care. But for the most part, I will talk to random strangers like I’ve known them my whole life. I’m weird. I get it. I don’t care.

I am one of the most spontaneous people you will meet. If you called me right now and said, “Hey, lets drive to Destin, I wanna see the ocean!” I’d be like “yeah I’ma need about 20 minutes to get ready and we gotta drop my dogs off with Grandpa Dan on the way.” If you called me and said, “OMG ZZ TOP IS PLAYING IN TWO HOURS IN KNOXVILLE” I would be out the door and in my car before you told me where in Knoxville they were playing and if we could even get tickets. I mean, times’ a wastin’. If you called and said “YO! We gonna fly to Denver next week to see the snow,” I’d start looking for flights. Because I’m a firm believer that spontaneity is one of the best ways to live. And I live by that rule more than you know. It’s some of the best memories you can create, ever.

Fun facts about me: I love cowboy boots. And stars. And music. And concerts. And festival foods. Cigars (yes, I will smoke a cigar, don’t judge me). And sunsets. And sunrises, especially on the beach. I like to travel. I like to cross things off my bucket list. I break out into song and dance quite often, and the majority of the time, I don’t even know I’m doing it. Just absent mindedly I hear a beat and I start dancing – it don’t matter if it’s the grocery store or Wal-Mart or the Pilot station while I’m looking at candy bars and gummy worms. That is just who I am as a person.

I really just like to feel…alive. And like I’m living. Everybody gets so caught up in working and life and stress and problems and pain and grudges – JUST. BE. GRATEFUL. You’re alive. You’re breathing. You have things other people would kill to have.

Life isn’t perfect. People will hurt you. People will leave you. Sometimes they apologize, sometimes they don’t. Sometimes they come back, other times, they won’t. People will lie to you, they will use you, and they will take advantage of a broken heart that still tries to be a good heart and love to the fullest. You get sick. You lose loved ones. You lose friends. You lose yourself. Life is a series of unfortunate events, but it is also beautiful. It. Is. Precious.

A few weeks ago, a person I considered a friend, a person I knew, died unexpectedly in a car accident. (Side note – his father is the reason I pack a pocketknife. In his words, “every girl oughtta pack a pocketknife.”). He left behind a young son, a mom, a dad, a brother, and a host of other family members and friends that loved him. He was a good man. A good police officer. A good father. A good friend. A good life, that was taken too soon. Our days are not guaranteed. His death has weighed on me every day since he left this world.

Now. If I died tomorrow, I would leave nothing behind. No children, no legacy, no fortune, no famous accomplishment that the world would mourn for.  My goal, however, is to live a life that people will remember me for, outside of those things. I may never have children, even though I would love to be a mother. I may never be so good at my job that I help set precedents, and it’s likely that I won’t. I may never hold a political office that does great works, and it’s very probable that I won’t. But if I am remembered for anything, I hope it’s that I was kind. That I loved people. That I had a great personality. That I helped people. That I made someone’s life better, or easier, or someone had a better day because of me. That I loved hard, harder than most, and that got the people I loved through bad days. My motto is, and has always been, to live the way you want to be remembered. I hope that’s true for me.

In addition to the unexpected loss of a friend, I lost a very important person in my life this year – Jr., my best friends dad. He was a character. He treated me like his own. He was sarcastic, and full of spunk and personality, and I treasured every minute I spent getting to know and love him. He left behind quite a legacy, and quite a family, some of the most important people in my life, and I am forever grateful for the lesson that I learned from him – Never. Give. Up. Fight until you can no longer fight. He knew who he was, what he was capable of, and he never lost sight of that. I want to be more like him. I’m so glad he got to see Killian before he passed. Killian is my nephew, my best friends’ son who was born in May, and has brought me so much joy. I never knew how full my heart could be until holding him. There is a lot of back story about that statement, but suffice it to say, he’s just real important. And if nothing else, it was a good year because he was born.

All in all, I’m pretty proud of my 32 years. I’ve made mistakes. I’ve tried to learn from them. I’ve said the wrong thing. I’ve pushed people away. I’ve needed too much. I’ve not needed enough. I have worried my friends. I have worried my family. I have made bad decisions. I’ve also made good ones. I have failed at things, and I have worked so hard to correct those failures and succeed – even with everyone telling me how hard it was. I have let people walk on me, and I have walked on people. I have not lived the perfect, most religious way. But I’m trying. I’m trying to learn to depend on God, to pray more, to be the person He knows I can be and is building me to become. I’m trying to just… live.

My goal for the next year is to just continue to live. Be who I am, and live unapologetically for being that person. I’m going to travel when I can, and maybe cross a few more things off the bucket list (pretty sure I’m gonna go to Vegas and see Aerosmith, just saying). I’m going to be the best person I can be, and help others be the best people they can be. Keep learning. Keep growing. Keep searching for answers in God and allowing His blessings to find me. Stop worrying about the people who don’t like me, who don’t value me, who have left me behind. Start worrying about me, because I value me. I know who I am. I know that being alone is better than being with someone who doesn’t accept who you are, and who doesn’t love the crazy things about you that you love about yourself, and doesn’t appreciate or respect who you are. I have lived through those things, multiple times. Right now, my life is about learning to trust God and HIS plan, not mine. Because I know His will be far greater than mine would have been.

So where am I after the last couple years of self discovery and 32 years of living and learning? I am standing on my own two feet. For the first time in my life. I don't need anyone. I got my job on my own. I represent my clients mostly on my own, with the occasional help from my awesome work family. I do a good job. I work hard. I have my own home. I pay my own bills. I am out of debt for the most part. I have two happy, healthy, beautiful four-legged girls that love me unconditionally. I have an array of friends, but I have a small circle. I have friends who are family. I have a wonderful family. I am blessed so much more than I deserve. This life has humbled me, yet strengthened me. I know who I can trust. I know who I can't. I know who talks about me behind my back, who starts rumors, and who tries to dull my shine. I smile at them, too. I live my life for me. I get my tattoos for me. I am a work in progress when it comes to losing weight and eating healthy, but I have lost 25 pounds (give or take) this year and I have kept it off. Do I still have goals? Of course. Everyone should have goals. Everyone should keep setting goals and crushing them, but for you, no one else. I don't try to impress anybody. I just do me. I'm loud, my laugh carries, but I don't care. God gave it to me for a reason. If you don't like me, if you have problems with me, that's for you to sort through. My life is mine. I have worked my ass off to get where I am, I have earned where I am. Am I a size 2? nah. Do I care? nah. Will I ever be? hellllllllll to the nah. But I know my worth. I know my heart. I know who I am. And for the most part, I love myself, more than I ever have, and that love will only grow stronger. Of that, I am sure. I'm still a work in progress, with most things, and I know there is always room for improvement, so as long as I love me and I don't forget what I'm capable of, as long as I keep grinding, I will never stop growing and being better. That's one of the beautiful things about this life.

My best advice after the life I've lived in 32 years – just be yourself and live your story. Be the person no one thought you could be, not even you. Don’t be ashamed of who you are, be proud, be bold. Don't be afraid to act silly. Laugh often. Laughter can cure so many of life's problems. Don't apologize for who you are, where you came from, or where you're going. Wear red even though your mother hates it, because you like it and it's your color. Get the tattoo. Buy the shoes. Book the trip. BE KIND. Always. Don't hold grudges. Forgive, and allow yourself to be forgiven. Life is so short, and everyday could be the day you lose someone. The day you see them for the last time. Don't leave things unsaid. Tell people you love them. Tell people what they mean to you. Love hard, even though it hurts sometimes. Be an example. Be a light to whomever you can, whenever you can. If you have children, be thankful for them, not all of us are blessed, not yet, anyway. Never back down, never give up, and never let fear keep you from loving someone, or being loved, or reaching your goals. Follow your own path. And if you need a good pep talk, I’m always here.

Deuces.

Welcome to the World Baby Dave

Killian Ray Sandlin. That’s what they named you. Against my wishes, and generous offer of financial support.

Sort of.

Don’t get me wrong, I love your middle name, because you were named after two of the greatest men I have ever known and loved, your great grandfather, Billy Ray Day, and your grandfather, Raymond. But your first name; Lawd, Jesus. It just hasn’t grown on me yet. It wasn’t what I expected. But I love you anyway, so don’t be angry with me. I begged your mother to change it. I offered money. I did a sacrifice to the Gods. Well, maybe not that last one. But the thought crossed my mind. Anything that I could think of. But, alas, you went home in an outfit that had Killian printed on it. And you, baby boy, were beautiful, despite the name I found less than favorable. So, I took to calling you Baby Dave. Your mother said that was acceptable. Sorry in advance.

Allow me to introduce myself: I’m your Aunt Jess. Not by blood, unfortunately, but your mother is my best friend in the entire world. When I say best friend, I mean, she’s the Thelma to my Louise. The Monica to my Rachel. The Blanche and Rose to my Dorothy and Sophia. You’ll get all these references at some point in your life, but right now you just need to know that even though she ain’t blood, she’s my family. You will need some background on this. I’ll start there.

Picture it. Wooton. 2015. It was late one night. Your dad’s cousin Timmy had bought a house with his soon to be wife, Maddie. We were all hanging out, looking at the house.  Your mother was leaning against the wall. ANGRY. And when I say angry, I mean angry. Her RBF (I’ll explain that when you’re older, too) was wayyyyyyy off the charts that night. We made eye contact. OH. DEAR. GOD. She hates me. I can tell. She must think I have been flirting with Dave. That’s a no. Wonder why she don’t like me? Hrmmm. Maybe I can be funny. Tried that. Eye contact. NOPE. That didn’t work. Ok, I guess she’s just gonna hate me then. Moving on.

Your dad and Timmy were partners in a local café. Your family is super close, and it’s a great and beautiful thing. They kinda took me in, which is even better. That’s how we all became friends. Your mother came into the café one night when I was there. She was wearing a Brantley Gilbert concert tee shirt. SCORE. I KNOW WHAT WE CAN TALK ABOUT. OMG. YAY. You will never know this side of me because it is now long gone, but I used to hate when people didn’t like me. Now, well, hahahahaha. Let’s all laugh together.

Anywho. I try talking to your mother again. I strike up a conversation. About concerts. Perfection. SUCCESS. This time goes much better. We talk all about our love for concerts and music. Next thing I know, me, her, your Aunt Ashley and Maddie were bonding over a mushmellon campfire until 1 in the morning at the café. I wasn’t partaking in the mushmellon because I find them gross and not delightful in the least. I was the only one not partaking in the mushmellon campfire, but the important part of the story is that we were making great conversation AND I MADE HER LAUGH. Because, well, I’m funny. Hysterical, really, you will see.

DID WE JUST BECOME BEST FRIENDS?! Yep. We did. I’ll let your mother school you on that reference, someday. HINT: she’s a HUGE fan of the movie this quote is from.

So anywho. I don’t know when it happened. That night was just the start. But somehow, in a very short time, between a very unhealthy addiction to Lilly Pulitzer, concerts, memes, 90s country music, and sarcasm – your mother and I became best friends. It’s like one day I met her, and the next day, I couldn’t live without her. I didn’t know how I managed to survive without having her in my life all those years. Like, she got me. She just automatically knew who I was. Like she peered her eyes into my soul or something just as insane. That was 4 years ago. Now, we’re just family. I attend family functions and its accepted. She’s my sister, and I love her. I would take a bullet for her, jump in front of a moving car, pretty much anything I could do to save her, and I’d do it without thinking twice. That’s a weird thing to say, I know. But, it’s true. This is the emotional part of the story. The joke is on your mother if she is reading this right now because she hates it when I’m emotional, and even more when I make her emotional. The day you were born, she told me the night before that if I got emotional she was kicking me out of the room. She’s a tad bit moody sometimes. Super dramatic. Sorry, kiddo, you get to live with that.

So here goes. Your mother has seen me through some rough times. Divorce. Heartbreaks. Sickness. Failures. Deaths. New jobs. Happy times. Every major life event I’ve had in the last 4 years pretty much, and there have been many. MANY. This is how great your mother is. The day I was supposed to get my bar exam results back, she and your Aunt Ashley and I went to Nashville. I knew I was going to get bad results and I wanted to be somewhere happy. We left early. I got the results around noon. We were in the mall. I failed. They sat with me while I cried. They gave me pep talks. They sat with me at George Jones’ grave while I cried some more. Your mother picked up my pieces. And it wouldn’t be the first time. When I passed the bar, we celebrated. We have best friend pictures. When I got divorced, she got me through. When I had my first heartbreak thereafter, she sat with me and cried again, and reminded me who I was and that it was not the end of my life. She read an uplifting book and she underlined all the quotes in it for me that she wanted me to see. She never lets me down. She did background checks on all the men who dared to talk to me. She made threats. She gave death stares. She picked up my broken pieces so many times. Now, she has a tracker on my phone and she makes sure she doesn’t lose me and I don’t die. She can reason with me and help me make decisions and most importantly, she judges me, all day err day and my clothing choices. Once she even offered to burn a skirt for me. Real friendship right there. She protects me. She loves me. She knows me inside and out, and we have a bond that I’ve only ever seen in movies. And truthfully, it is one of the best things about my life. I know that no matter what, she is a constant, and I can count on her to always be in my life. I think that’s why I love you so much. Because you came from this person who has been one of the biggest blessings in my life and who has helped me get my life back together so many times. She saved me. She saves me every day in some way. And I am there for her, just as much as I can be, and just as much as she lets me be. She will tell you that. She knows how much I love her and Dave, and your family. They are family to me. And I wouldn’t trade them for anything on earth. And I would do anything on this earth for you.

Now that you’re caught up, let’s talk about you! YAY. It was a very exciting day the day you came. Your mother told me not to be there until 10:30 but I got there a little early. Originally, I was supposed to transport your grandpa Jr. and Aunt Anna to the hospital, but as unfortunate circumstances would have it, he had to have a little procedure and had not been released from the hospital yet. So, I went over to help your Grammy Val occupy your Aunt Anna. She’s gonna read this someday, too, and probably kill me. But I wouldn’t trade her either. She was wild that day. But SO excited to meet you.  She begged for you to come on out. We were all a little anxious for your arrival, but none more anxious than Anna. She fed me more junk food than I’d eaten probably since a road trip with your mother. Gummies. Dried up yogurt things that made me want to vomit. Blueberry puffs. Reese Cups. Cow tales. Starbursts. You name it. I ate it. I also found some of it weeks later in my purse. I ate that, too. No shame.

ROCK! PAPER! SCISSORS! JESSICA! SHOOT!

JESSICA! WATCHU DRINKIN?

JESSICA! WATCHU EATIN?

WHERE YOU GET THAT GUM?

HOW YOU GET HERE?

I LIKE THAT RING, WHO BUY THAT FOR YOU?

I LIKE YOUR NECKLACE, WHO MADE DAT?

JESSICA! I BRUSH YOUR HAIR.

JESSICA! YOU HUNGRY?

I finally got to the bathroom. JESSICA!!!! WATCHU DOIN IN THERE?! YOU COMIN’ OUT? YOU PEEING? COME OUT JESSICA!!! This actually brought back memories of when your cousin Laura Jane, or as we call her, LJ was born, and Dave tried to use the bathroom until Anna beat the door down while we all laughed. So fun.

We had to leave the room for the epidural to be inserted. Anna is in charge. JESSICA! LETS GO NOW! YOU GET UP! She was a bossy little thing. I tried to get her take a nap. Many times. No dice. She brushed my hair. She gave me a tattoo with an eyeliner pen. She put makeup on me when Ashley got done giving your mother a makeover. Your mother looked dead for a minute, but it was a little funeral parlor-esque in there. She was quite hateful. I opted not to bring my pocket knife in case she tried to use it to stab your father. Dave was not on her good list there for a hot minute.

She asked me what I was drinking when I first came in. It was an energy drink, in preparation for what I knew would be a long day. Before I could answer, Grammy Val told her it was beer. Because apparently, beer is bad, but energy drinks are good. So…I became the drunk in the room, pretty much all day. Such a fun joke to tell everyone. JESSICA IS DRINKING BEER. Yes, at 10 AM. And I continuously run into things so that didn’t help the joke. Actual quote from Grammy Val, “Well, if you hadn’t drunk all that beer this morning…” No, I’d still be running into everything because I can’t stand up in an acre of ground. Drunk or sober, that’s just who I am.

At one point, I’m on my phone and I hear Grammy Val say, “Why can’t you eat that like a normal person?” Because Anna dissects her food. Cow Tales. Reese Cups. She takes it allllllllll apart and eats it separately, or not at all. But that wasn’t near as entertaining as Britt on the Fentanyl drip. Daddy Dave told us the nurses told her it would be an hour. That an hour was the ‘sweet spot.’ Of course, Grammy Val being Val says, “well, if it gets any sweeter than that…” because it was epically clear that Britt felt nothing. Nada. Zero. Zilch. And, that was much better than the alternative that we had previously seen. And maannnnnn kiddo were you slooooowwwww making it out. We waited allllllllllll day. Just like we did for LJ. About the same amount of time, maybe a little longer. I guess you just weren’t ready. But, you were so worth the wait.

I had left the hospital but when it got close to show time, your father text me to tell me to come back. I raced back to the hospital from over 10 miles away on a curvy, insane road, near dusk. I turned my flashers on, and probably ran people off the road. My brakes were hot. When I got out of the car at the hospital I was in cowboy boots and I ran all the way inside, and practically ran through the elevator wall. I crashed into it, technically, but the lady I almost fell into was nice enough to hit the button to the 3rd floor because I was trying to breathe. The elevator doors open. I ran toward the delivery room doors only to be stopped and told I wouldn’t be allowed in. ALL THAT TROUBLE AND I AM GOING TO MISS IT. I was a little upset. So was your Aunt Ashley. We tried to sneak in several ways. We failed. But hey, it’s the thought that counts.

It was a short hour or so to us, but what I imagine was a very long hour for your mother, and there you were. Several of us were waiting outside the nursery window watching for you. When they came wheeling you in, you’d have thought somebody flipped a switch outside. All of us were crying. Well, except Anna. But I could feel my heart exploding with love for you. You were so beautiful. I don’t have any children of my own. At least not at the time of this publication and the way my life goes, when you read this I will probably be the fun Aunt who has no children but who is always a good time. Maybe not. Life is funny sometimes. I just know that watching you in there, I couldn’t wait to hold you.

Once they got your mother settled, we all poured in, but it was close to the end of visiting hours, so I think you got passed around for a quick (but ever so important) 15 minutes before everyone exited. I caught the first pictures of your daddy holding you, and your Grammy and a few others, and I caught some excellent photos of you and your mama after everyone left. I was just overwhelmed with emotion holding you. I’m sure I said something meaningful and emotional at the time, but I couldn’t tell you what it was now. You were so perfect. And I knew I would love you forever.

You’ve been here three months now, and it doesn’t seem real. You can hold your head up by yourself. You can roll over by yourself. You are only soothed by the sounds of Ice Cube, thanks to your very 90s rap enthused mother. But you are my little nephew that I love and cherish and see as much as I can. I went to visit you a few weeks ago, and I sang you to sleep with Tyler Childers. Don’t worry, I will educate you on GOOD music someday. But what a wonderful feeling it was getting you to sleep and having you fall asleep on me. I would have sat there all night if I could have. Getting chosen to be your aunt and getting to watch you grow up is one of my greatest blessings.

The sad part of this story, is that not long after you were born, a short few weeks ago, we lost your grandpa. Raymond “Big Jr.” Standafer he was known as. But he loved you something fierce. He was a fighter, he was strong, and he was a good man, despite his own opinions of himself. His opinions were known to be a little skewed at times. But, he was so proud to be your Grandpa. And I know, that no matter what happens, he will ALWAYS be watching over you from above, and keeping you and LJ and all your family safe. You are so lucky to be born into the two families you were. And so, so blessed. You are so loved, kiddo. You will never know how much.

I hate to end here. It’s been a fun story to tell. But always know that I will love you and I will be here for you as long as I draw breath. You may not be my blood, but you are my nephew. I may not be a fan of your first name, but I love your guts, little man. I hope someday, by some miracle of God I am able to become a mom, and give you a little kid to play with. But, if that doesn’t happen, you will still be loved no matter what, and you will always be important to me. I am a lot of things, but loyal is one of the most important, and when I love, I love hard. It’s a blessing and a curse. But you, sweet boy, will always be one of my loves, and one of my favorite stories. Don’t grow up too fast, Aunt Jess can’t take it.  I love you big, kiddo.

Love,

Aunt Jess.