I missed being home with him on weekend nights and working on puzzles at the coffee table or watching him help Mama cook as I did homework at the dinner table.
I missed when he’d light up the grill on every holiday that required a barbeque, a cool beer in his hand, and a smile riding his lips as I splashed around in the blow up pool in the backyard with Mama.
But what I missed the most was sitting beside him on the bleachers after training, eating our peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and talking about any little thing that came to mind. We called them “life talks” because all we did was talk about what was going on in our lives, his pasts, and our futures, but mostly my future.
He was my best friend, and then he was…gone. Just like that. All in the blink of an eye.
I remember waking up one morning and realizing something inside me had shifted after he’d passed. I was still thirteen, and it had been two months since I’d lost him, but one day I looked in the mirror and I asked myself, “Why should I allow my father’s death to be in vain?”
I needed to honor him and continue making him proud of me. I was going to carry on with all the hard work he’d instilled in me, and his other athletes. I wanted to carry on his legacy. He had prepared me for this and I knew I could do it.
So, that same morning, I woke up, packed a bag, went downstairs to make one peanut-butter and jelly sandwich, and then walked out of the house. I jogged to the park in my neighborhood and even though the track was smaller and not as flat and neat as the track Daddy used to take me to, it always did the trick.
I set my bag down by a bench, stretched, got on the track, and ran. I ran until my lungs burned, my legs ached, and my chest grew tight.
It felt good.
That’s when I promised myself I would never give up.
Truthfully, if it hadn’t been for my father, I wouldn’t be where I am now. Standing in front of Bennett University, one of the biggest Ivy League colleges in America.
Bennett University, aka BU, is located very close to where I live—literally an hour away from my home in Raleigh, North Carolina.
I had received scholarships from Harvard, Princeton, and Brown University as well, but ultimately, I went with Bennett. I’d visited the others and didn’t feel quite at home there with the head coaches, but Bennett was good because it was close to home and seemed pretty laid back, all things considered.
A car door slams and I look over the top of the car at Mama. She steps around the front bumper of the car, focused on a college pamphlet in her hand, a puzzled expression on her face.
She’d driven me to BU for a tour before, but my mom would forget her own head if it wasn’t attached to her body. No, seriously. My mom tends to be very forgetful. Unless I give her a day-of reminder, she doesn’t remember things like doctor appointments, track meet dates, or even my birthday sometimes, but she makes up for that by preparing three meals a day and working two jobs so she can get me whatever I need.
Mama refused to let me get a job when Daddy passed. She said it would distract me from school work and track and she would have rather worked twice as hard, than let me work and lose sight of my passion.
So yes, she can forget stuff because she’s in my corner. She’s my champion and if I didn’t have her, I wouldn’t have anyone else. She’s all I’ve got, which is another reason BU was a good choice for me. I’m close to her and can visit her whenever I want by catching a quick bus ride home if need be.
“Okay, baby…um, let me see,” Mama says, running the tip of her finger over a sentence in the pamphlet. “It says here that the women athlete’s apartments are across from the Triton Fountain.” Mama lowers the pamphlet and looks at the fountain that’s in the center of a round walkway. “I’m seeing a fountain, but no apartments straight across.”
I chuckle and point to the short brick building to our right. “It’s ‘cause we’ve parked on the opposite side.”
It isn’t a huge building, but I do remember it from orientation. Mama was with me when they showed us the athlete apartments. Like I said, she’s very forgetful.
“Oh! Yes, I remember now!” she chimes. She folds the pamphlet, tucks it into her back pocket, and then makes her way around the car to get to the trunk. She hands me my suitcase and I drop it down on its wheels while she takes out a pink container with some extra clothes of mine.