Donnie C. Johnson Oct. 9, 1934 - April 11, 2003
		Everything is changing now, the man we loved is gone. His body has gone cold with rigor mortis where once was a radiant vibrancy. What we know is over, a beginning is ahead. We know not what lies in wait for us, our grief eclipses all with dread. His eyes lifeless, his body but a remnant of what was. He is unrecognizable to those he loved Written by Melissa Wise, eldest granddaughter hours before his death.
	My grandfather was always a person that didn't necessarily inhabit a room; he took it over. There was just something about him that made people stand up and take notice of whatever he had to say, no matter how small it seemed to him, because to the person(s) he was speaking to, what he had to say was life changing. I was one such person. I can't tell you how many of his lectures I got over the years. My whole life he bellowed about bettering myself, never stopping, just pushing farther ahead until there was no more to do. Then he'd say "What do you wanna do, got anymore interests? Well get to it girl!" There was never anything in his eyes I couldn't do. He really gave me the foundation to believe in myself, to know that I could do anything I set my mind to. He was one of the most traditional and old-fashioned men I've ever known; yet to him, I had no restrictions. He said with my "bullheadedness" I should have been a boy, so that made it alright. He always meant well, and his sensitivity went beyond what anyone might have ever thought. He carried so much guilt over his lifetime for such things he really had almost next to no control over. He would only tell us the funny or amusing parts of Navy life, and shielded us from the horror. We weren't naive however, we knew what he'd done, and we loved him. He was a young man making a living the only way he could. He told my mother recently that he felt he'd failed as a father; he tried to apologize because he felt he could have done better. She told him that he couldn't help the fact that jobs were miles away, and when he drank, he never took away money they really needed, and he did the best he could. He would always be her daddy. I can really understand where my mother was coming from. Not many people comprehend what I mean when I say, I haven't only lost my grandfather, I've lost my father as well. People have told me that I can't know what my aunt, mother, and uncle are going through, but in my own way, I can. My mother raised us herself, (my brother and I) and so we had to look to the only example we knew as our father figure, our grandfather. When I was a toddler, he was my hero with the booming laughter and infectious smile that let me hide behind him when I got in trouble. When I was a small child, he taught me the value of bargaining my way out of whatever I wanted. He showed me intelligence, taught me honor, offered me guidance, and enhanced self-discipline. Now that I'm a young adult, I strive to be the person he helped me to become. He will never be gone from me, for I see his mischievous grin, hear his boisterous voice, and feel his firm grasp in my mind. I will not say goodbye, only, see you later. Also written by Melissa Wise, hours before the death of her beloved grandfather.