Writing “The Day Before Jeff Died”

There are some days you remember clearly. Not because anything extraordinary happened… but because of what came after. The Day Before Jeff Died is about one of those days.

A Saturday that felt like any other. Nothing unusual. Nothing that would make you stop and take notice. Just an ordinary day in a full house. At the time, I was twelve years old. I didn’t know I was living a moment that would stay with me for the rest of my life.

I was just there. Watching. Listening. Taking it all in—without realizing it. That’s what this book holds. Not the moment we received the news…
but the day before. The conversations. The small details. The quiet moments that didn’t seem important at the time.

Looking back, those are the things that matter most. The ordinary pieces of a day that, once gone, feel anything but ordinary. My brother Jeff was nineteen.

And like so many things in life, there was no warning that this would be the last full day we would have with him. This book isn’t about trying to explain what can’t be explained. It’s about remembering. Holding onto the moments that were given. Seeing them more clearly now than I could then.

Because sometimes, it’s not the big events that stay with us. It’s the simple ones. A conversation. A shared moment. A day that felt like any other.