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Every Day is My Happy Father's Day



Daddy was an incredible husband and father, an amazing provider. He was full of compassion and genuinely loved people. So many people called him brother or Uncle George. Growing up this way, it took me years to decipher which people were just friends of the family and which people were actually related to me. He was effortlessly funny, and most of the time he didn’t even know he was being funny. He made our lives a real-life sitcom, and each day was a new episode. His departure left a gaping hole in the lives of those who knew and loved him. He lived in a way that made him unforgettable.


In October 2020, seven of my family members and myself were diagnosed with COVID at the same time. At one point, five of us were in the hospital together. Over the course of three weeks, each of us slowly began to improve. But because of daddy’s preexisting conditions, COVID proved to be too much for him to battle.


Monday, November 9th (the day before my birthday), the ICU nurse who was caring for daddy called to let us know that if we wanted to say goodbye to him, we needed to come quickly. Still weak from the effects of the virus, my heart and head raced as I hurried to dress myself.


My brothers Andrae and Jacobi, my sister-in-law Melissa, and our pastor were allowed to all go in together. It was the first time I had seen daddy since saying goodbye to him three weeks prior. That was the day I took daddy to the emergency room. My giant, lying before me unconscious and on a ventilator, seemed so small, seemed so not my daddy. I wanted to feel his skin and kiss his face but couldn't because of all of the protective gear we were made to wear. So, I rubbed his feet and then moved closer to rub his hair and forehead.


The five of us were led to the consultation room to discuss daddy’s options with the nurse - keep him on the ventilator and struggle or remove the ventilator and allow daddy to go naturally. Because mama was too weak to go with us to the hospital, I had to call her so that she could make the decision. “Let him go. My husband has suffered too much and too long. Let him go.” She was at peace. I stood in as a proxy for her; my hand trembled while signing the paperwork.


The decision was made, the ventilator was removed, the morphine was administered, and all of the machines were silenced. We were dressed in protective gear again and led back into daddy’s room. I settled on the edge of the chair at his right side, the place of honor. I slid my hands under the covers and held his hand and rubbed his arm, the same hand and arm that had held me and comforted me so many times throughout my life.


We circled daddy’s bed as he began his transition, and as daddy took his last breaths, that ICU room became a sacred temple. I was witnessing one of the most holiest of ceremonies - the passing from life into eternal rest.


And though it hurt so much to say goodbye to daddy, I couldn’t help but be lifted by what was right and good. Daddy told us many times he was tired and was ready to go. He had been on dialysis for over 20 years and was growing weary as his body weakened. He was at peace. Daddy didn’t die alone. His children were by his side, and he wouldn't have wanted it any other way. Daddy was proudest of being the husband of his wife, Rosa Belle, and happy to be the father of his seven children - Rachael, George, Jr., Tim, Jamey, Jackie, Andrae, and Jacobi. We left each other with no guesswork; we knew exactly how he felt about us, and he knew how we felt about him. We were a family built on love and faith. All of this was right and good.


I’ve once read that we should live in such a way that honor those who have gone before us. I've resolved to live in a way that celebrates daddy. The work I do as a life coach, how I interact with others, the way I live and love are fueled by and filtered through who my daddy was and how he lived. He's my blueprint, and I want to represent the best parts of him. He left a great inheritance for me, and I make withdrawals from it daily. And to everyone I know or will meet, you'll receive what I've been given -- you'll get to experience some George Willie through me. He'd like that.


Here's to every day being my happy father's day.


May we live lives that leave indelible imprints on others. May we find peace during our struggles and treasures in our ruins. May we find what is right and good. May we experience grace in our most darkest hour.


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