A Freestyle Friday Message From the Heart
This edition of Freestyle Friday is different. It was recorded on a Monday morning, but the spirit remains the same—real, raw, honest, and spoken straight from the heart.
On June 7, 2025, my Aunt Deb passed away at the age of 74. And although she was my aunt by relation, she was far more than that to me. Today, I want to honor her—not through an obituary, but through the truth of who she was in my life and the lessons she leaves behind.
The Woman Who Stepped In When She Did Not Have To
My earliest memories are filled with instability and uncertainty. My mother battled addiction and went through multiple stints in rehab. At just five or six years old, my sister and I were on the brink of entering the foster care system.
But Aunt Deb stepped in.
She stepped in when she had little to give.
She stepped in when she could not afford to.
She stepped in when the easier option would have been to walk away.
She and my Uncle Clyde took us from California across the country to Florida. They already had two children—Shana and Friday—yet they opened their home, their hearts, and their lives for two more.
Their house was small. Their resources were limited. But their love was limitless.
The One Pillow Memory That Built a Foundation
There is one memory from that time that will stay with me forever.
In the house, all four of us kids had one pillow to share.
Not one pillow each—one pillow total.
We took turns. One night it was mine. A few nights later, it would be mine again. We did not complain. We did not know any different.
That Christmas, each child received a pillow of their own.
I still remember sitting under that tree… and feeling like the luckiest kid alive.
Today, I laugh when my wife asks why I have so many pillows. But the truth is simple:
When you grow up with nothing, you learn to treasure the things that once felt impossible to have.
The “one pillow story” has become a symbol of something bigger:
gratitude, sacrifice, love, and the people who step up when the world steps out.
Who Stepped Up for You?
Think about your own life for a moment.
Who protected you?
Who stepped in when they had nothing to give?
Who shielded you from outcomes you may never fully understand?
Who made sacrifices you were too young, or too overwhelmed, to notice?
These are the people who shape us.
These are the people whose names stay etched on our hearts forever.
Aunt Deb was one of the first people to show me what unconditional love looked like. She was one of the first to tell me I was special—long before I believed it myself. She built the foundation that allowed me to grow, excel, and eventually live a life I could only dream of as a child.
Love, Discipline, and Belief
Life in that little Green Cove Springs home was simple—but it was full.
We had food on the table every night because Uncle Clyde worked tirelessly, day after day. We had discipline—the old-school kind that came from love and accountability. And we had constant reminders that we mattered.
I never felt different because of my limb difference.
I never felt like an obligation.
I always felt like family.
And as I look back now, I realize that the love I experienced in that house—however imperfect—changed the trajectory of my life.
Regret and Reflection: The Hard Truth About Time
When I moved back to Florida in 2016, I lived just a couple of hours from Aunt Deb. Yet, I only saw her a handful of times. It was not enough.
There were moments when seeing her brought back memories of my mother’s struggles. Their voices were similar. Their tone, their mannerisms—everything. And sometimes it triggered emotions I didn’t want to face.
But I should have looked past that.
Because she was not responsible for the pain I carried.
She was part of the healing.
She was part of the love.
She was part of the reason I made it.
I cannot change the time I did not spend with her.
But I can honor her now—by telling the truth about the impact she had on my life.
Her Legacy Lives Through the Way I Choose to Live
Aunt Deb supported me until the very end.
She sent voicemails telling me how proud she was of my book release.
She celebrated seeing me on stages, living my purpose.
She came to my wife’s baby shower for Leo and met him shortly after he was born.
She showed up—just like she always did.
And because she stepped up for me, I want to spend the rest of my life stepping up for others. I want to be that person who helps, encourages, protects, and gives—even when it’s inconvenient or costly.
Legacy is not about fame or money.
Legacy is about how many lives are better because you were part of them.
Her legacy is simple and profound:
She stood up when she did not have to.
She sacrificed when she did not have much.
She loved unconditionally when the world felt unstable.
The Childhood Memories That Still Shine
As I let these memories flow, more moments come flooding back:
Homemade bread-and-butter pickles stored in coolers
A little house raised on cinder blocks with a creaky screen door
Orange Volkswagen van rides to St. Augustine Beach
Playing in the lake at her friend Arlet’s family dock house
Catching crabs at the St. Johns River with raw chicken
These were the bright spots of my childhood.
These were the moments that made me feel seen, safe, and loved.
And these are the stories I want to carry forward—not the painful ones, not the complicated ones—but the ones that remind me that I mattered to someone who chose me.
The Question I Leave You With Today
What is your one pillow story?
What is that moment of sacrifice, protection, or love that shaped you into who you are?
And more importantly:
Who can you be that person for today?
My aunt Deb changed my life.
She helped form the man I am.
And I will miss her deeply.
Aunt Deb…
I love you.
I miss you.
And until I see you again—thank you for everything you did for me.
Make it a great day.
