Grief cuts like a knife; one second, you’re okay; the next, you feel as if your heart is about to explode into a million pieces. On Monday, December 4th, my Papaw, my hero, my best friend, went home to be with the Lord. As much as the pain of losing him hurts my inner soul, the comfort I have in the hoards of memories I have of him pours into the same inner soul to bring comfort in challenging times. For 27 years, I had my Papaw by my side for everything in life, from countless fishing trips, yearly Cardinals Baseball games, and seeing on the sideline for every sporting event of mine since I was a wee lad playing rec basketball for our church. Not to mention my wedding, watching me turn from an immature boy to a man, Papaw was always there.

How one processes grief is different for everybody. Personally, writing a tribute to my hero is the start of a long, challenging journey that will provide the full range of emotions. Nothing in the world prepares you for losing a grandparent, especially one that is like my Papaw. In hopes of navigating this journey and helping others along the way, my mission is to paint a picture of my best friend, my Papaw. 

For 27 years, my Papaw played the role of best friend more than he did my grandfather. Papaw was the first call I would make when life happened, car issues, job loss, and much more. Most kids call their parents when life happens, but not me; I called Papaw. No matter the hour or the issue, Papaw was there with a smile to help me get through whatever life had thrown at me that day. I vividly recall numerous days and nights when my Dad was sick at Vanderbilt University Hospital; I would spend under the shade tree in his backyard praying and asking Papaw for guidance on the issues at hand. 

Since Monday morning, I have done some soul-searching to come up with a few happy memories to convey to those who didn’t have the honor of knowing my Papaw. 

At a young age, Papaw established that he would be my biggest supporter in everything I decided to pursue. Papaw never missed a sporting event, including hopeless golf matches, basketball games, days spent on the baseball diamond, and brutally cold football games where I rode the bench. No matter the sport, Papaw was there. When I went to him with my dream of chasing sports media, Papaw asked how he could support me and bought me my first podcasting microphone and the first two shirts ever printed with my logo on the front. When I decided to try my hand at live radio, Papaw was there for a pregame show ahead of a Memphis Basketball matchup with East Carolina at Blues City Cafe in Downtown Memphis. Papaw was in the front row with his Mitch Davis Show Podcast shirt, beaming with pride and joy as I previewed his team, the Memphis Tigers. 

Before getting into sports media were the days when Coach Hugh Freeze would invite Papaw and me to Oxford, Mississippi, to watch his Ole Miss Football program take on an opponent from the Southeastern Conference. For context, Papaw hired Coach Hugh Freeze at Briarcrest Christian School, and the two would remain friends for years. Papaw shared the relationship with Coach Freeze with me, leading to a friendship that Papaw cherished. Papaw and I, a group of gentlemen from Briarcrest Christan School, would make the trips down to Oxford, having Coach Freeze welcome us at the start of the Walk Of Champions every Saturday. Papaw would always beam with excitement as Coach Freeze would greet his family first before making his way to Papaw and me for a pregame hug and well wishes. Papaw would enjoy watching the expressions from the Ole Miss fans when they realized the unbreakable bond Papaw had with their Head Coach. 

From there, for as long as I can remember, Papaw would take me on an annual trip to St. Louis to cheer on our beloved Cardinals for an entire weekend. Papaw and I would take off to St. Louis on a muggy Friday, spend a night or two, and attend a couple of Cardinals games during that short weekend. Without fail, on every trip to St. Louis, Papaw would recount May 2nd, 1954, the day when Cardinals legendary slugger Stan Musial would hammer five home runs in a single day at the Old Busch Stadiums in a doubleheader against the pesky New York Giants. Without question, Stan Musial was my Papaw’s favorite Cardinals player of all time. 

Lastly, I recall the countless fishing trips he and I made to the Tennessee River near Eva, Tennessee, or Pickwick Dam. Like the Cardinals game, Papaw would pick a weekend in the summer and or in the springtime to take me to visit his cousin Glenna and her husband. Following a long day of fishing, we’d come in off the water to a fish fry from Glenna, as she and Papaw would sit around her dining room table swapping stories of the old days. Catching fish was the objective during those days, but as I look back, Papaw knew he was doing much more than just trying to outfish me; he was teaching me how to become a man. 

Looking back over my 27 years there’s a lot I could have talked about in regards to Papaw, I could have talked about when talking about my Papaw. His love for the Lord, my Mamaw, and his family is just the tip of the iceberg in describing my hero, my best friend, my Papaw. Papaw was something different to everyone who met him; even in our family, Papaw meant something different to everyone. However, for me, Papaw was my best friend. He taught me what it meant to be a man, to put God first, to love my wife, to work hard, and to love my family. I am forever thankful that he got to see me become a man. In his final year on earth, Papaw saw me marry my beautiful wife, move away from my hometown of Memphis, Tennessee, and have two remarkable careers take off. 

Sure, my earthly heart aches, but I know I will forever have him watching over me and cheering me on from heaven. 

Papaw, 

I love you; I can take it from here. See you soon, buddy! 

• Mitch