Dear Billy,

Unreal. Five whole years. Five long, hard, life-altering years without your voice. Without fussing about your eczema flakes on the bathroom sink—Lord, that used to drive me crazy! 😅 But if I had you back, I promise, I’d never fuss again. I’d cherish every little thing.

This morning, I woke up with the weight of it all. The ache of your absence hasn’t dulled—it’s only changed shape. And the memories? They still knock the wind out of me, but now they bring laughter, too. Healing laughter.

If you were here, sitting next to me, I’d tell you everything.

Life Without You

So much has changed.

Livia? She’s exactly as beautiful as you told Karyn she’d be. ✨ I became a radio personality for two years and had a blast—you’d be so proud. I built a townhome—finally—and I love it there. We talk about you all the time, laugh at your stories, and keep your memory close.

Oh—and that guy you liked for me? Yeah… you were wrong, bro. 😏 LOL.

But your wisdom still lives in me.

Remember that Christmas when you told me my kids didn’t need four-wheelers ’cause they weren’t driving nowhere? You said, “If they dont have drivers license” 😂 That was so you—practical, no-nonsense, and full of quiet sense. That moment sticks with me.

🕊️ From Year One to Year Five

The first year without you? Whew. So many tears. Random breakdowns—especially when I saw a car like yours. Sleep was rough.

But now? I can talk about you without falling apart. I laugh more than I cry. I remember more than I ache. That, in itself, is healing.

What’s surprised me most is how fast the world moves on. The funeral, the visits, the calls—they stop so quickly. And I don’t even blame folks anymore. I’ve done the same thing after other losses.

Life really does go on. But for us, the ones closest? A piece of us stopped that day.

💖 Keeping You Close

Billy, I want you to know—Daddy and Momma are doing well in health and in spirit. But miss you dearly! 

Hollie misses you so much. She still hears your voice calling her “Hollie Rock,” and truthfully, she could really use you in her life right now.

Inger still has images of you on her phone from your service, holding onto the memories. 

Greg? Somehow, whenever we have our siblings out, he always finds a way to laugh about something from our childhood—something you did, something only you would’ve pulled off.

And me? I love you, but I only like to remember you here in the flesh. 

Just know—you’re missed. By us. By so many others.

I still meet people who stop and ask, “Are you Billy’s sister?”

🌧️ Grief—Then and Now

Grief at five years? It still sucks. It’s still a void that never fully closes. But now I know how to live with it. Minute by minute, I’ve learned to breathe through it.

And for anyone walking with someone in grief: Be patient. Be gentle. But don’t be afraid to push—push them to eat, cry, take a walk, or just breathe. Grief is different for all of us, and sometimes we just need someone to say, “I see you.”

💔 The Questions That Haunt Me Still

Even after five years, I wake up with questions that scream in the silence. Not the city. Not the department. Not even time has given me answers.

And yet… I still ask:

Why were you so far from home that day? What were you thinking in those final moments? Where were you headed? Why did you feel the need to show your gun? Why didn’t anyone have access to your phone? What happened in the hours leading up to that call?

I may never know. But I’ll never stop asking. Because your life mattered. Your story matters. And silence will never be enough for a man like you.

So I write. I grieve. I speak your name.

Because even when justice feels out of reach, your legacy does not.

Forever your sister, Brandi

🕯️ For anyone reading this: Say his name with me. William Johnson Jr. Missed every day. In every way.

#LifeAfterWithBrandiJ #GriefAndGrace #HonorBilly #FamilyFirst #TheRealBrandiJ #AfterGlowers #LoveNeverDies