KRISTIE MYERS

It would be hard to forget the first time I met Frederick Blair.

In 2001, my daughter Shelby and his daughter Courtney met in first grade and became fast friends.

The road between our homes was about 20 minutes, but on the water, dock to dock, it was a

leisurely 10.  Frederick was there when I pulled in the slip to pick Courtney for an overnight soirée.

Unfortunately,  I neglected to take the wake I had just created into consideration and

calamity quickly ensued. In an effort to grab anything to establish some sort of stability I reached

over the bow and grabbed a pole on the dock; the boat moved and my options

were a header into the water or tighten my grip.  In the stretch,

my bathing suit gave way and out came the girls

( and I don’t mean Shelby and Courtney,)

my feet in the boat and my arms on the dock.

A Hobson’s choice by anyone’s measure.

It was a meet and greet we would laugh about for the next decade and a half.

Originally from Virginia, Frederick was a carpenter by trade.

By hand, he built the home  in which he would raise his family. He was also an avid outdoorsman.

He met and quickly loved Michelle Rountree, a union that would last more than 27 years

and produce their accomplished daughters, Kayla and Courtney.

Frederick was a quiet soul.  He did not shy away from conversation or

 interaction but was more a listener than a speaker. He was always

quick to smile at the antics of a house filled with women.

In 2016, just before Christmas, Frederick fell from his deer stand and

suffered a broken back. Michelle was by his side throughout the long recovery process.

I was with them at the hospital when Michelle’s co workers from Riverview Elementary

came and showered her with provisions to help, even a bit of cash to help ease

some of the hardships that having life turned upside down will produce.

As a group, it was an act of camaraderie I won’t soon forget.

II write to you from Ponce City Market in downtown ATL.

Shelby is on her way from Statesboro and

we are headed back to Dawsonville  for Frederick’s funeral.

Last Friday, he took his life in the basement of the house he built.

His battle with depression, over.

The Blair women will ask themselves over and over again in the comings weeks and months

why the love they shared was not enough to bring light to his darkness.

But depression doesn’t have rationale.

Mental health issues are still taboo to discuss. It looks weak.

That has to change.

I write this with permission of the women closest to Frederick.

I am humbled that they trust me to share what has shaken them to the core.

It is their gift to others to know they are not alone in this struggle.

Frederick’s death has to have meaning. Purpose...  Mental Health is as real as physical health.

Be kind to each other... Listen before you speak.

We are each on a journey that deserves compassion and empathy.

Rest In Peace Frederick,  my memories are more laughter than tears.

This is my prayer for Michelle, Kayla and Courtney.......