I met my first love at a high school basketball game. Braylon was kind, funny and so full of life. For three years, he showed me how to love, live and see the world through a lens of unwavering positivity and courage.
Our first date was February 22, 2020, right before COVID hit. After a few weeks of texting, he suggested we FaceTime. That call lasted three hours, and from that night on, we FaceTimed every single evening for three years. In June, we shared our first kiss by a waterfall, and in October, we said “I love you” on a Ferris wheel. On our first anniversary, he gave me a garnet ring, promising he’d be with me forever.
Braylon was incredibly driven. He was a point guard on his high school basketball team and a future computer science major at the University of Michigan. From freshman to senior year, we were inseparable.Â
On November 10, 2022, Braylon came over, and we spent the night laughing and joking as we always did. Even after three years of dating, we never ran out of things to talk about.
He asked me to play “Paradise” by Coldplay on the piano, one of my favorite songs, and I did. My mom told me later how heartwarming it was to hear us laughing that night. When Braylon left just after midnight, we kissed goodnight, said “I love you,” as always and I started to walk back upstairs to my bedroom.Â
Halfway up the staircase, I heard the most violent car crash imaginable right outside my front door. The sounds of shattering glass and scraping metal echoed down the street. I ran outside, hoping and praying it wasn’t him. But there was Braylon’s car, completely crushed.
The following day, we learned the other driver had been drunk.
The next day, my family joined friends, neighbors and Braylon’s family at his house, sharing stories, photos and memories of him. I clung to the teddy bear he gave me one Valentine’s Day, wearing his sweatshirt, cologne, chain, anything that kept him close. I’d often sneak away to sit on his bed, remembering the hundreds of nights we’d spent together.Â
No one teaches you how to process grief; you just learn to survive it. I believe in signs from heaven, indisputable, crazy, specific and unlikely incidents that must be from the ones we lost. Like the 22’s I see walking down the street, reflective of his basketball jersey number, his birthday and the day of our first date. Like the red cardinals I see almost daily, flying past me while I’m driving to work or hopping around on my back porch and looking in my eyes as if to say, “What’s up? I’m still here!” Like the dreams I have about him, where he tells me, “I’m safe, I love you and I’ll always wait for you.”Â
During COVID-19, Braylon and I sent handwritten letters to each other each time we had to quarantine, in addition to our nightly calls and texts throughout the day. This year, on the second anniversary of his passing, I got the letter “B” in Braylon’s handwriting from one of his letters tattooed on my ankle so he can walk with me wherever I go.Â
While nothing can bring Braylon back, I ask anyone reading this to honor him and others affected by drunk driving. You never think it will happen to you until it does. Please, do your part to end it. Before you put the key in the ignition, remind yourself of the people you could be killing as soon as you place your foot on the pedal.
If you or someone you know is seeking help for mental health concerns, visit the National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI) website, or call 1-800-950-NAMI(6264). For confidential treatment referrals, visit the Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration (SAMHSA) website, or call the National Helpline at 1-800-662-HELP(4357). In an emergency, contact the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-TALK(8255) or call 911.