"When she was in the hospital, I truly wanted to be in her place – to take her spot,” said Russell.”

“You simply cannot describe the pain.”

Tim Russell, athletic director at Tyler’s Grace Community School, was trying to explain what the moment was like when his 17-year-old daughter Bailee died. 

Bailee passed on June 7, 2016. Just days earlier, she had graduated from Harmony High School after a scholastic career which could only be described as stellar. She was a star in practically everything she undertook. She was one of those people whom each group adopts as their own. 

The evening of graduation, she was in a head-on collision on State Hwy. 154. Her close friend, Haley Johnson, died on impact. Two others were severely injured.

Bailee was rushed to a Tyler hospital, and passed four days later.

The driver of the truck that crossed over and struck the teenagers was arrested for drunk driving.

“You have heard of the term ‘gut-wrenching,’” Russell said. He paused and gestured with his fist in front of his chest. He closed his fist and turned and pulled it away from his body. “That is what it is like: like someone reached into me and tore my guts out.”

Tragedy is a part of life, just as death is a part of life. There is no scale of tragedies, there are no measures. Similarly — and as Russell found out — there are also no playbooks.

What Russell and his family (wife Jana and daughter Macey) then began was the process of living when everything had changed. Initially, there was dramatic shock mixed with extreme anger. This reaction, he came to find out, was an often-experienced human response to tragedy.

“It is really adapting to a new normal,” Russell explained. 

Such a simple phrase as ‘normal’ cannot possibly portray the range of emotion, pain, upheaval, doubt and despair which often accompanies the loss of a child. There also comes added stress, as each member of the family will deal with this full range of emotions differently – the mechanics of which can often result in the dissolution of marriages.  

“Mothers Against Drunk Driving advised us early on that 87% of couples divorce after the loss of a child,” Russell stated. “Jana and I agreed early on that we would not be part of that 87%…that we would do whatever we needed to to keep the family together.”

Jana required interaction with many people, while Tim needed solitude. Macey took a middle path, seeking solace in a small circle of good friends.   

The battle to accept the new normal commenced. It was a family effort and an individual effort. Due to the high visibility of the family at Harmony ISD, the new normal also included consideration of the grief of hundreds, if not thousands, of people in the school and community. Russell struggled with this new ‘normal.’ 

In time, however, Russell reached out. He was aware that professional football player Tony Dungy had lost a son, so Russell asked his good friend, coach Jeff Traylor of UT San Antonio, for assistance getting in touch. Traylor approached then-University of Texas Head Coach Charlie Strong, who contacted Dungy. 

“Within two hours of Coach Strong contacting Dungy, Tony Dungy called me,” Russell said. 

Russell sought an answer to a simple question: ‘What do I do now?’

Dungy provided him with three recommendations. The first was to look himself in the mirror and repeat all the advice that Russell had ever given his football teams — in short, to get back in the coaching game.

Secondly, Dungy related a story from his own experience. At the funeral of Dungy’s eldest son, a friend had come to him and asked Dungy, “Do you believe your son is sitting at the right hand of God?” Dungy answered that he did. His friend then explained that if the young Dungy was in heaven, then Dungy needed to live a life that would enable him to join his son in heaven.

The third recommendation was to rebuild his life, and to do so in a manner that would allow Russell to stand unashamedly before God’s judgment and be reunited with his daughter.

“I thought that I had a good relationship with God before, but it was only after Bailee’s passing that I became steadfast in my faith,” Russell reflected.

Along with that new steadfastness came a huge dose of empathy for people. Empathy was present in his life before, but was not understood in a deeper sense. Russell called it ‘the gift of empathy.’ He returned to coaching, setting aside concerns that he could no longer be as demanding of his players as he needed to be. The new degree of empathy made him a better listener and counselor. 

“I might be moved to tears at an odd moment, for a reason which folks may not be aware,” he admitted.

Despite the new normal, the renewed relationship with God, the gift of empathy, the strength of family and the support of so many in the community, Bailee’s place at the dinner table is still empty. She remains, however, a huge part of Russell’s life.

“She is very much in our lives,” Russell confirmed. 

Russell reflected that, today, Bailee might be an English teacher and coach, a wife and a mother. 

Although the family marks both her birthday and the anniversary of her death, Bailee remains in Russell’s daily routine: a photo at his desk, a wristband, a voice message that the family pays Verizon monthly in order to keep; regular reminders of the light of her life. 

“Bailee was my child. But she was also a representation of everything a person should be – smart, playful, caring, fun, a young person of great discernment, someone who loved life and loved people,” he said.  

Russell shared the story of Bailee and the effect of her passing so that others who may be suffering from loss benefit from his experience. Wood County has seen its share of tragic accidents and youthful death in the last few years. The common bonds of the grieving process can be life-saving.

Russell offered some simple recommendations: draw on one’s faith in the Lord, recognize that there is no playbook for establishing the new normal, reach out to others in dealing with life on earth, and remember that fulfillment comes only through Jesus. 

There are times — quiet times at home — when Russell still calls upstairs for his daughter.

“Bailee, come on down,” Russell will call. It isn’t a plea, or a demand; it’s more like something a father would say while waiting to drive his daughter to school.