Courtney Woods-Hastings. The world has truly lost one of its best. I know I’m very late in getting this written, but to me this news is still fresh. Being in the hole in prison, I truly know nothing of the outside world. It’s November 2nd as I write this, eighteen days after it happened.

As I’m sure all of us realize, words are never adequate to describe the meaning some people hold in our lives. Even though Courtney and I were not besties, I know many people in the city of Greenville—and anywhere else she’s been—feel just like I do about the news. Courtney was simply the kind of person it was impossible not to love. Her smile radiated through every room she was in. Her presence was impossible not to feel. My sister told me the news in a letter. She never had the pleasure of meeting Courtney, but she could see how much her loss impacted our community. Greenville, South Carolina will never be the same without her.

I don’t know the exact day or year I met Courtney, but like most people who met her, I was probably drunk at DT’s. At some point, not long after moving to South Carolina, I figured out that the really cool, bald, and excellently bearded bartender at Buffalo Wild Wings named Phil, or “Da Philip” as we always called him, was with Courtney from DT’s. I know I speak for everyone who knows them when I say they were literally the perfect pair. Pretty much from the time I moved to Greenville until I came to prison, I worked next door to one of these amazing people.

The service industry is a different world. Our schedules are different, our lifestyles are different, and the way we love and care about each other is different. Courtney epitomized what can be great about our world. She always used to joke about people who were “Greenville famous,” a term normally reserved for those who actively sought attention as if being well-known in a small town was akin to being a movie star. If anyone is Greenville famous for the right reasons, it was Courtney herself. Her fame came not from a fake sense of superiority, but from an infectious smile and an uncanny ability to listen and remember everything going on around her. That thing you were complaining to her about, drunk, on a Tuesday? She’d ask you about how it turned out the next time she saw you. In short, she cared. She cared when the rest of the world just didn’t give a fuck.

Courtney loved everyone. Many people used to label DT’s as a “gay bar,” which I never really understood. If by “gay,” you mean they accepted people for who they are, then yes, I guess that’s what DT’s is. Courtney was open about her message of love and equality for everyone. In a place as backward as South Carolina can be, this belief in acceptance isn’t as normalized as it should be. I don’t know that there has ever been a more perfect bartending duo than Courtney and Billy. The dynamic they brought to their little bar was iconic for the city. Their love for everyone who came to see them made DT’s a place you just had to stop in, if only to say “hi.”

I know I speak for everyone who has ever had the privilege of having Courtney and Phil sit at their bar when I say this: it was truly an honor to have them come to your bar. They were professional bartenders. In a world where most people talk for years about getting out, they thrived on being the best at what they did.

My greatest memory outside either of our work environments was when we went to the 2014 ACC championship game where our Seminoles—meaning mine and Philip’s—defeated Georgia Tech. We didn’t plan on going together, but we ended up drinking and having fun tailgating with each other. A Michigan fan to her core, Courtney still always supported her husband’s teams, too. I’m normally against rooting for the team of your significant other, but somehow she was just allowed. Because she was Courtney. How could you talk shit to that smile?

I’m going to miss you, Courtney. I’m going to miss coming to DT’s to take a shot with the girls from Tsunami. I’m going to miss your giant smile and wave whenever you’d see me walk by. I’m going to miss you still calling me “Mandust”—I think that was your favorite version of me. I’m going to miss yelling, “Fuck her right in the pussy!” on Halloween across your bar while you laughed. I’m going to miss your likes, comments, and shares. I’m going to miss seeing you and Philip together, the two of you being an example that finding someone perfect for you can be real. As I sit here in prison, on my cot, all alone with tears flowing down my face, I’m thinking about all the things I will miss. I wonder if you ever realized how much I looked up to you and Phil. These words and these tears aren’t nearly enough to describe who you were. I want to think that I’m a nobody—someone in the periphery of your life unworthy to even write these words—but the truth is that’s never how you treated anyone. To you, we were all important. We were all “lovey.”

They say you never really die until every memory of you is gone. If this is true, I hope that you will live forever. I will never forget you and what you stood for and believed in. May your memory and legacy live on.

Here’s to you, Courtney. To the warmest smile Greenville has ever seen. A person of honor, integrity, passion, and love for others that couldn’t be contained. You will never be replaced or forgotten by anyone whose life you’ve touched. We all love you. We all miss you. I love you. I miss you. May you forever rest in peace, Courtney. Go Blue!

-Jeremy