I do not like to talk about my childhood, even though it was amazing. Not having your father as a young woman is so incredibly hard. I look back and all I see is memories, incredibly painful memories. I have personally decided it doesn’t matter about all the things I had, because I do not anymore. Really, those things shouldn’t have ever mattered anyway. So, I start here: May 17th, 2006.
It was a Thursday morning, & our 6th week living in our brand new home. I was woken by the shrieks and cries coming from my mother, right outside of my bedroom door. I remember thinking “dad is dead”, but very calmly. This was strange because he wasn’t sick. I have learned over the years to trust my gut instinct because of this actually. Then I thought “What the hell Wes? Why would you think that?” I remember the specific fight I had with myself, just to avoid opening the door to see what was wrong. Finally, I brought myself to my feet- and proceeded to what would change my life forever.