Remember when I danced in an ant pile and you brought me to the sink to lick my first pain? Grandpa carried me in from the back around by the pear tree and you rinsed the ants off my swollen legs and rubbed dish soap while holding back some tears of your own. I felt my first pain when I was with you and you were there for me.









Remember when I got dressed at your new house in my band uniform before my first concert? I had my cummerbund on upside down and my hair uncombed. As you corrected my cummerbund, you said "Trav, why is your beautiful hair so messy?" I snapped like a chained dog and told you I liked it like that and it looks good. From then on whenever anyone asked if I would comb my hair you said "It's the style these days."









Remember when I got my first hit and you were waiting outside the chainlink to congratulate me? You gave me a water which I accepted then laid in my bag and opted for Gatorade from #12. When we rode home you told me I played so well and you were so proud of me. I was so happy and you talked about how I smiled so big on second base.



You told all your church friends that Sunday and I felt like a prince.









I remember when they told me. I didn't go to school until 4th period that day and I told everybody. I was scared but i was going to be okay because I trusted you. You told me it "cramped your style" and I kissed your forehead for the 5th time in my life.









I remember when JD's mom shaved your head at the salon. She cried and prayed and you sat there and made her your granddaughter. You told me it was because you didn't want to scare me when you started treatment.









I remember when you used your walker to get to your chair after an appointment. I walked behind you and you crumbled down. I held you up and I felt the sweat beat down from your naked head. You told me you were sorry and I kept telling you "It's okay." and "I love you".









I remember on June 9, 2014 when you came to my baptism and we sat on the innermost pew of the far right side because it was wheelchair accessible. I wheeled you down and you watched my new birth with your own two eyes. You looked so happy I thought you were about to jump in with me. I credited you for helping me get to that position.









I remember when they said you were gonna be okay. They said it shrunk down almost all the way to 1% and that you'd get surgery. You told me we could go walk the trail past your house and you'd show me the bobcat you saw out your window one day. I was so happy I could jump through the roof.









I found out they lied. You hadn't gotten better and it was in your colon now too. My soul left my body to hide behind a locked door. I hated them. They lied to us. You weren't getting better but they pumped you full of medicine and it took you away sometimes.









I remember when I had to lift you out of bed so you could use the bathroom. I remember how you were embarrassed at first but after that you weren't there. I told you I loved you and you said you loved me too.









I remember when you laid silent in your bed at home and I heard beeps every 6 seconds. I remember your new bed brought cockroaches into the house and I had to kill them. I remember how I would tell you I love you and how your warm bones squeezed my hand as I held yours. I remember how I left for home at 3 am after staying up the night before at the foot of your bed. I remember how I woke up that morning and mama told me.









June 30, 2015 you were ripped from us. I got to tell you I loved you but I never got to apologize for not thanking you for washing my ant bites in the kitchen sink. I got to tell you I loved you but I never got to thank you for fixing my uniform and I never got to apologize for snapping at you about my hair. I told you I loved you but I couldn't show you the smiling pictures of me from my life because I thought I was too cool to smile. I got to tell you I loved you but I couldn't grasp your warm hand again and tell you how my day was. But I want to tell you now I remember everything about you. I remember your hair and its smell of hairspray. I remember your shirt you bought with cats embroidered on it and how you thought they were raccoons. I remember how tall you were- 5'11. I remember the warm rolls you made for me at Christmas. I remember how I sobbed when I sat in the pew for the family before I gave your eulogy. I remember how I wept when I saw that Callie's family bought you flowers for your visitation. I remember you didn't really favor music and you were scared to swim. I remember you used to tell me you went to Six Flags with your friends to have fun when you really went to tea rooms. I remember how you were wise and endearing. I remember your soft voice. I kept your last voicemail about you and I going to Wendy's. I remember how I told you to stop leaving voicemails because it clogged my phone and you stopped. I remember how we used to watch Oprah after school and how you'd pretend you didn't see me sneak a cookie out of the kitchen. I remember your loveliness and your stunning way you existed. I remember everything about you. I'll never forget. I know I'll remember everything about you.