A nephew's legacy
Seven years ago I assured my nephew that I would write an article about him. He was set to make an impact on the high school football field. At 12, Blake had the physique of a teenager. And a football was always under his arm.
"You stay on track, and I'm going to write a front-page story on you one day," I said, laughing and messing his hair. It was the last thing I ever said to him.
Four years passed before I would see him again, this final time looking at his lifeless, hulking 17-year-old body draped in his football jersey, lying in a casket.
He had been riding in a car with friends on their way to a party after a football game. The car flipped over. There was no bad weather that day. No alcohol involved. It was one of those freak accidents.
Hovering over his corpse, I apologized to him for never fulfilling my promise.
Read the entire column by Mikki Kirby in the Family section tomorrow.