5. 7. 2012

**NOTE** I started this blog because I wanted to be able to say things that I didn't want parts of my family reading. I wanted to be able to speak about things that happened, that I knew they would never read. It's been so long since I've written here, because I used it to write truth and how God was using me. I haven't spoke spoken about about God in a few years, because I wasn't sure he was there.  I was convinced I was too broken, and I let others tell me that lie. I'm gonna move forward. I'm gonna continue to share my life through this blog. Today's post is a flash back to the worst day of my life. It's an inside to how truly broken I was, and how well I was able to hide it; like most things, from the family I never wanted to read this blog.

I remember every detail from that day. It was just another Monday in college, and I went to work at 6am and I would be in the kitchen till about 1pm that day. I remember I was on lunch dish duty. I didn't mind it because I got to put my headphones in and ignore the world. My mom tried to call my while I was in the dish room. I sent her an automated text back that I was busy. Then the call came from my brother, and I ignored that too. Just a little after noon that day, I got a text from my sister saying "Holly, I'm so sorry." That was it, it was simple. I knew immediately something was wrong. I stepped outside, and called my mom back. I didn't have to say a word, she was crying and all I got heard was, "He's gone. Holly your Uncle David is gone." I lost my shit. Not even kidding you I tried to run away from it, I got across the street from our parking lot and I couldn't breathe. My body was being crushed by so much pain. I remember looking down the street just thinking no, no, no. I've never been that broken in front of anyone. I don't let those parts of me show. So when my suitemate saw me she didn't know what to do to help. She called my best friend, and I just remember her holding me on the sidewalk and I wept.That was the end of that day for me. I didn't go to class, I don't remember talking to anyone else. I hid in Shannon's room. I didn't even answer my phone when my family called. I made an awful choice following this day. I didn't want to be around my family that weekend; so I went off to the lake with friends, and ignored all my pain.

Uncle David was my biggest hero. He was my male role model growing up, and he was the one guy who I knew always had my back. When we died, we weren't talking. I was so mad at him. A few months earlier we were talking on the phone and he told me I was going to turn out just like the rest of my family. I was not going to amount to nothing, and I wasn't following my own route. I was pissed he would think so little of me. I know he was trying to push me into being the best me, and to follow my dreams, but I'm too stubborn to admit that he was right. That was the last conversation I had with him. That's a conversation I can't forget. That's a conversation that motivates me for ever. I know he'd be proud of me. I know that he would tell me I'm doing good, but I'll never hear it from him. I'll never hear his voice again.

I can't explain the hurt that this day carries with me. I don't know if I'll ever be able to word the emotions the way I feel them. I hoped that writing out my memories would help sort the feelings. I hoped by sharing this it would remind me of the impact Uncle D has on my life.