May 2nd at 10:15 p.m., I got the call I prayed would never come— my pops was gone. Cancer took him, but not before he gave me everything he had. He wasn’t just my grandpa— he was my teacher, my sponsor, my rock. He taught me to drive, to fish, to show up, to stay kind, to love right, and to never give up on people. Even when the world turned its back on me, he never did. The next day, I worked a 36-hour shift. Everyone said stay home, but I knew—he wouldn’t have. So I put on my boots and thugged it out for him. Since that night, I’ve been walking with a wound I can’t patch, a silence only he could fill. But I keep going. For him. For the name my son carries. For the legacy he left behind. He never met my twins, but they’ll know who he was. They’ll know what kind of man raised me back from the edge. There will never be another like him— and I’ll spend the rest of my life making him proud. #grandpa