Willie's tombstone

Second grade had just wrapped up for the day, a typical day for an 8 year old filled with coloring and counting. Climbing down the steps of the big yellow bus as I have done every day since kindergarten, except this day was different. I was greeted by my mother who had my favorite meal waiting. She wanted to soothe the pain, as much as she could, as she told little 8 year old me, who had plans to head back to 2nd grade the next day for more coloring and counting, that my father had died.

The word is heavy to read, and even heavier to feel. My dad, the man who gave me his looks and who showed me constantly how much he loved me. He had me in every color Timbs. See, what was good for him he multiplied in me.

Imagine being in 2nd grade and knowing from this point on your whole world would be different. My dad is in heaven and it's said that God only places things on us that we can shoulder. And if you know my dad, Willie Daniels, you know his strength, which I must have inherited.

As his daughter, I pick up the baton he left my sister and I to carry. I no longer live in NY but imagine visiting your dad's gravesite year after year, getting older and older and always seeing a tombstone-less plot.

For those who knew my dad, you know first hand what light he was to this world, and how many lives he's touched. Please help me to give my father the proper gravesite he more than deserves. He lived the life he loved, and loved the life he lived.

No contribution is too small. Please donate and share.

For Willie Daniels... my dad.