Memoir: A Day I Will Never Forget
By Kadie Mullinax
It was a cold rainy day, and the date was February 11, 2008. Our basketball team had tr4aveled to Dawsonville to play one of our games in the region tournament, which was held at Riverview Middle School. We were playing Gilmer that afternoon. I can remember how focused I was on winning that game. Nothing else was running through my head. Not another thought crossed this jumbled up and confused brain of mine, which at the time was completely in order.
We went to win and we did. Even though I was out of breath, I was speechless. No words could come of something that filled me with such happiness. After the game ended I went to my dad who was sitting in the stands. He asked me to come out of the gym for a moment. He needed to discuss something with me.
Once we stepped out of the gym he just looked at me for a moment. Nothing came from his mouth but an open hole filled with silence and no idea what to say. He finally choked up the lump that was in his throat with the Kadie. He continued. "An accident happened today; Wesley was killed in a plane crash."
There they were. The words that took so much to spit out of his mouth were over in a second. I was once again speechless. No words could come from something that made me so sad and had broken my heart. I felt so helpless and empty. I could have sworn someone knocked the breath out of me. I didn’t want to believe it, but tears started to form in my daddy’s eyes. Then they began to form in mine. I clutched to my dad as hard as I could. I remember him saying, "He’s in a better place now sweetheart. I know your going to miss him, I will too."
I could feel my body go limp like a dish rag. People started to come out of the gym. They came over to where we were standing and hugged me. They were being so nice, but at the same time I wanted them to all leave me alone. I wanted to be by myself where no one else could see how upset I was.
Wesley had been a friend of my dad’s for as long as I can remember. He was in the cattle business along with my dad. I look back on so many memories of him and his family here at our farm. Then I look back on the memories of being at his farm. I have heard and continue to hear a numerous amount of stories about trips, sales, and just times when my dad and Wesley were together. I can just remember him walking up to me, hugging me. I can remember the way he smelt. He wasn’t very tall. He was, I guess, what you called average. He had dark hair and dark eyes and he wasn’t very fair skinned. When he wore his cowboy hat he reminded me of George Strait.
I have so many memories of him and each and every one makes me miss him a little more. Daddy, Roy and I went tot he funeral. Roy is a friend of Daddy’s that is also in the cattle business. He’s a big guy with a big heart. He loved Wesley like we did. As family.
The funeral was sad, of course, but it wasn’t cold like that night that Daddy told me the news. The church was filled with people that missed and loved him dearly. It was in a big church because there were so many people going to be there. The governor, Sunny Perdue, was there considering that he and Wesley were such good friends.
They had a slide show showing in the church before the funeral started. It was of him, his wife and their three kids. I can remember looking at the pictures of his youngest son, Jake, who is my age. Thinking and trying to comprehend what he must feel like and what he is going through. It broke my heart to see him, with his mom on his arm, walking into the church. He looked restless, sad, and like a part of him was missing.
The one thing I remember about that day wasn’t anything the preacher said. It wasn’t anything that the guy on the piano sung at the beginning before it all started. It was a bluegrass band that would play between things that different people would get up and say about Wesley. I can remember the tune, the melody of the banjo, the mandolin, and the other several instruments that played. It was so happy sounding. Then I realized it sounded like Wesley. That was the music he loved. The music, that when I think of him, plays in my mind.
He could sing excellent, but he wouldn’t tell you that. He also could play the guitar along with other instruments. Every year at his sale I can remember the bluegrass playing. I remember looking over at him, he was talking and socializing, but he had this big smile on his face that seemed to me that it could never fade.
Wesley was special to me. He wasn’t afraid of anything. He flew an airplane on a day that bad weather was an obstacle, but he wasn’t afraid of that obstacle. He was brave, and he loved life. He also loved his salvation and he trusted it. He crashed his plane in Mt. Airy, North Carolina.
I loved Wesley, but I’ll see him again one day. When I come to an obstacle in life or I’m afraid to do something, I think of Wesley. I ask myself, "What would Wesley do or what would Wesley say." He gives me bravery, he gives me belief, and he gives me strength for when I don’t want to do something or I’m afraid. He tells me to hold on to life by the handles and let it take me where it must. He tells me where ever I fall or where ever I land it will be what is meant to be. He says don’t live life afraid of what could happen, if it does it’s meant to happen. Live life to the fullest, because you only get one shot.
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