2025 Week 17 – Gone but not Forgotten
When I first met my son Niree, he was just 8 years old. I came across this photo recently—me and him wrestling in the grass at his grandmother’s house. Clear blue skies, the kind of day that felt like everything was right in the world. It brings a smile to my face, even now. His mom was pregnant with his little brother Jett at the time. From day one, Niree and I clicked. He figured out pretty quick that I was just a big country kid myself, and he leaned into that. He spent hours outside. And if it had even a hint of danger to it? Oh, he was all in. Climbing trees, skating down steep hills, lighting fireworks he somehow found in the basement… fearless.
Today marks one year since his transition into the next life. And man… this day hits hard.
Niree changed my life. No question about it. He didn’t just grow up around me—he grew with me. We had deep talks about our dreams, about buying land, going off-grid, building a life where we could be free and self-sufficient. He had a fire for entrepreneurship, and a mind that was always moving. He was thinking ahead, thinking for himself, dreaming bigger than most folks twice his age.
I miss his presence—his energy, his laughter, his curiosity. Around here, I always tell my boys: This house is home base. It's where you come when you're drained—mentally, physically, emotionally. It’s the one place you don’t have to be strong. Just be. Niree understood that. This was his safe place. And I know there comes a day for all of us where we won’t be able to make it back home. A day where the door stays shut, and all we can do is hope we left something behind that matters.
Niree DeCarlo Robinson left something behind. A whole lot, actually. He’s my reason now. My motivation. I carry his torch and mine, and I see the vision more clearly than ever. He left a journal in my shed—it’s going to become a book. And in my studio, right across from the electric guitar he always played, hangs his picture. That’s my reminder. That’s my fuel. That even though he’s no longer here in body, we still got work to do.
He may be gone from this earth, but he’s never gone from my heart. Gone but not forgotten—never.
