A Different Kind of Family
Mrs. Annie Arnette pictured with son(s) Jeremiah, David, and Charles.
Family. The word itself can hold so many different meanings. For some, it's the people you're born to, a bond of blood that runs deep. For others, it’s a group of people who choose to love and support you, regardless of any genetic ties. For me, it's the latter. My journey to understanding what family truly is started with a difficult goodbye, a painful period of uncertainty, and a new beginning I never saw coming. It's a story that taught me that a family is not always defined by who you're related to, but by who shows up for you.
Me pictured on the top right along with the other children in the day care.
My story began in the late 90s when my dad left for Newark, New Jersey. He eventually became the head chef for Sean Combs in New York, a big deal that felt a world away to a young boy. The distance was more than just miles; it was emotional. I was left in the care of my grandmother, uncle, and mom. A few months went by, and I asked my dad a simple question: "When are you coming back?" His answer was just as simple, but it hit me with the force of a tidal wave: "Never." As a child, I couldn't grasp the finality of it. All I knew was the ache of a broken promise and a sense of being adrift.
The summer ended, and my mom, working tirelessly to provide for us, had to get a second job. That meant I had to go to daycare. I dreaded it. I thought it would be a bad experience, a place where I'd just be another kid. I had no idea it would be the start of a life-changing chapter.
My mom pulled up to a house at 114 Tyler Drive, and a man with deep waves and a warm smile was standing outside. This was Jeremiah Arnette. He met me with a kind hello, and when I told him my name was T.J., he said I looked familiar. My mom explained that my dad's name was Chaunta Godfrey. At that moment, Jeremiah's eyes lit up. He knelt down and told me that he and my father were childhood friends and shared many memories. He then looked at my mother and said, "Go on to work. I’ll be all he ever needs as a father figure from here." I knew right then and there that I was in good hands.
Mrs. Annie Arnette before leaving for church.
Jeremiah walked me into the house where I met his mother, Annie Arnette. She was a woman who didn't take shortcuts. Before I started her daycare, I was a bit spoiled, used to being the only child and not having to do much for myself. Mrs. Arnette changed that. She taught me invaluable lessons that would shape me for the rest of my life. She'd tell me, "Your mom works a lot, so while you're here, you're going to learn to wash dishes, iron clothes, fix your own food, and be a responsible young man." She taught me the value of responsibility and hard work.
As I grew older, she and Jeremiah continued to invest in my future. They weren't just a daycare; they were a second home and a source of constant guidance. Mrs. Arnette would enhance my thinking with lessons in grammar, cursive writing, reading, arithmetic, and critical thinking. Jeremiah and his mom went the extra mile, keeping me in church and bible study, and even taking me on beach trips. They were helping my mother raise me, providing the love and structure I was missing.
Mrs. Annie Arnette pictured with her sister(s) Ms. Christine, Ms. Nora Jean, and Ms. JoAnn
Down the road, the Arnettes became my legal guardians, a testament to their unwavering commitment. No matter what chaos I caused in school, in the community, or at home, they never turned their backs on me. They just loved me, accepting me as one of their own children. They were my heaven-sent angels.
Jeremiah, thank you for all the days you made me chop wood, move furniture, and build things from scratch. Your lessons in hard work and your knowledge as a young man have carried me through to this day. And Mrs. Arnette, thank you for being a nurturer, a teacher, and most of all, for being what I needed when I needed it most. You are very dear to my heart.
Mrs. Annie Arnette pictured alongside son Jeremiah and grandchildren Zachariah and Nehemiah Arnette at baby shower.
Family isn't always about blood. It's about the people who see you, who love you unconditionally, and who choose to be a part of your life when you need them most. My family is a testament to this truth. To the Arnettes, may life continue to treat you well, and may God continue to bless you, Granny.
Love, T.J.
