Love Like a Sunset Part I

1998

1998

When my daughter Destiny was just 11 years old, she was already a bundle of boundless energy and an insatiable craving for the spotlight.

If she wasn't primping and preening herself for yet another children's beauty pageant, then she was belting out show tunes at the top of her lungs in some local singing competition.

And heaven forbid there was ever an opportunity for her to read a passage or recite a poem in front of an audience - she'd leap at the chance, practically vibrating with excitement.

The girl was a born performer, there was no doubt about it. She was truly her parents' daughter.

I remember the day I found myself sitting in the bleachers of a bustling gymnastics arena, surrounded by Destiny's equally enthusiastic friends and family members, all of us eagerly awaiting her big moment.

Chiara, Jodi, Gunner, Tyanah, and Cole were fidgeting impatiently beside me, their eyes glued to the floor below where the competition was well underway.

I could feel the anticipation practically crackling in the air, an energy that had been building for weeks in the lead-up to this big event.

You see, Destiny had been training tirelessly for months, putting in countless hours of grueling practice under the watchful eye of her coach.

She was determined to nail her routine and show the judges just what she was capable of. And as her father, I couldn't have been prouder - or more nervous.

I knew how much this meant to her, how badly she wanted to succeed. The pressure must have been immense, but Destiny thrived on that kind of challenge.

She lived for the thrill of performing, the roar of the crowd, the chance to bask in the glory of victory.

As we waited for Destiny's turn, I couldn't help but marvel at how far she'd come.

It felt like just yesterday that she was a little girl, stumbling and tumbling her way through her first gymnastics class, giggling with delight every time she managed to pull off a wobbly cartwheel or a clumsy somersault.

But over the years, she'd blossomed into a truly gifted athlete, her lithe, nimble body moving with a grace and precision that left me in awe.

The countless hours of training, the dedication and discipline she'd poured into perfecting her craft, had all culminated in this moment.

And when Destiny finally took to the floor, I felt my heart leap into my throat. She looked so small and vulnerable standing there, waiting for the music to start.

But the moment the first notes rang out, something seemed to shift within her. Her shoulders squared, her chin lifted, and a steely determination flashed in her eyes.

And then she was off, twisting and tumbling through the air with fluidity and power that left the crowd gasping in amazement.

I watched, spellbound, as she executed each element of her routine with flawless precision - the soaring leaps, the lightning-fast spins, the gravity-defying dismounts.

Every movement was infused with a raw, unbridled energy that seemed to captivate everyone in the arena. And Destiny fed off that energy, her face alight with a radiant joy that was impossible to miss.

She was in her element, doing what she loved most in the world, and it showed in every fiber of her being.

As she nailed her final landing and held her pose, the crowd erupted into thunderous applause. Destiny's friends and family were on their feet, cheering and whooping with unbridled enthusiasm.