Eight Years

Eight years is a long time.

But I remember like it was yesterday.

It's about 1pm. I'm sitting in the stylist's chair at Diamond Cuts when it was still in that tiny building on Ramsey Street.

My phone rings. It's Amanda. She's upset.

"They found Keith dead this morning," she says.

"Tiffany?" I ask.

It brings ache to my soul to think that my very first thought was that the mother of his child was responsible.

But in the end, my gut instinct was right. Deadly accurate.

Eight years ago today, they found my husband's best friend, Donald Keith West, dead. From a gunshot wound sustained in his own home, in his own bed, while he slept peacefully.

More than 2 years later, Tiffany would plead guilty to second degree murder.

Keith's sister, my dear friend Rhonda, and her husband would go on to raise Keith's daughter, Lily Marie, who will turn 9 later this year.

Though time passes faster than we'd like, this day doesn't seem to get any easier.

Rest in Peace, Big Daddy.

In loving memory of Donald Keith West
July 30, 1966 - July 18, 2006