06/16/2026
The Funeral
I don't remember the service itself. I was there, but I was gone completely numb, completely shut down. Thankfully, the funeral home livestreamed it, so three months later, I sat on my couch and watched our daughter's funeral for the first time.
Everyone wore pink Brie's color. The men in pink ties, the women in pink dresses and white. Brielle's family came from everywhere South Carolina, Washington DC, Florida, Georgia, Virginia, and Alabama β to be there for her home going service.
My military brothers and sisters lined up on the outside the church, representing love and strength. They had our backs. My Commander came. He showed up for us. Those who couldn't make it watched it live with my parents and my sister, because my mom too was on hospice.
My pastor gave a beautiful eulogy. Family members spoke about who Brie was and what she meant to them. Her auntie Liz wrote a beautiful poem. Her cousins Natalie and Heather got up and shared what Brie meant to them and to all her cousins. And her siblings they wrote a beautiful speech together, calling themselves the Crazy Eight. There used to be eight. Now there's seven. Number five gained her wings. But the Crazy Eight will always be complete.
And then at the end, I broke. I looked out and I couldn't stand anymore. My battles picked me up, carried me outside, and i heard my pastor say, "Tracy, we got you."
In the middle of all that pain and grief, I saw something: I saw love. Real love. People who showed up for Brielle and her family because they cared.
But I need to tell you the truth. I'm not strong. I'm surviving. Some days I walk around putting on a fake smile, making people think everything's okay. There are other days I can't keep my eyes open because I am not sleeping. When most days, I'm dying inside. She was not supposed to go before me. We were supposed to see her working, striving, married, with babies. All of that got taken away. I still don't understand it. I miss her. I miss her soul. I miss her presence. I miss her joy and her smile.
I don't know how I'm still standing. I don't know how my family is still standing. We're not the first people to go through loss, but that doesn't make it any easier.
My faith tells me that Brie is standing in heaven, looking down, proud of me and her family. I have to believe that because if I don't, I won't make it. I have to believe she's watching us, proud of our strength, proud that we're keeping moving because she showed us what true strength and love look like.
And through Brie's Gift, through the work we do every day, we're keeping her alive. We're honoring her memory and her legacy.