They met when they were only children — two fourth graders running barefoot across the dusty field at Scott Park. Alan Flowers saw Jaime for the first time and, with a grin only a boy could have, told his friend, “I’m gonna marry that girl someday.”

And somehow, he kept that promise.

Through the years, they broke up and made up, growing up together through the awkward, innocent tides of youth. By the time they reached the 11th grade, the games were over — their hearts had already chosen. Jaime and Alan built a life from that childhood promise — one filled with laughter, long days, and three beautiful children: Brady, 9; Allie Ruth, 7; and Charlie, just 3.

Alan was the kind of man people called dependable — the one who showed up early, stayed late, and fixed whatever was broken. A mechanic by trade, but really, he was a builder of things far greater: a family, a future, a home filled with love.

“He was the best dad in the world,” Jaime said through tears. “He’d come home dirty and tired, but he always found the energy to play. He never missed a game. He made everything better just by being there.”

Last Saturday should have been another ordinary day. Jaime sat in the stands watching Brady’s baseball game while Alan worked a weekend shift — extra hours to save for the new house they dreamed of. Her phone rang midway through the game. A voice on the other end said words that didn’t seem real: “There’s been an accident… they’re doing CPR.”

Alan had been called to a lumber mill in Moundville, Alabama, to repair heavy machinery. Somewhere in that tangle of steel and noise, something went wrong. He was beneath the equipment, replacing cylinders, when metal sheets came down. The details are still unclear. What is clear is that life changed forever in that moment.

By the time Jaime reached the hospital, her husband — the boy from Scott Park, the man who could fix anything — was gone. He was only 33 years old.

Now, in a quiet house that feels too big without him, Jaime sits with their children. She tries to explain the impossible. Brady, who just played his heart out for Dad. Allie Ruth, who still asks when he’s coming home. Little Charlie, too young to understand why everyone is crying.

How do you tell three small hearts that their hero isn’t coming back?

There are no words for that kind of loss. Only love — the kind Alan left behind in every laugh, every bedtime story, every memory that now feels like both comfort and ache.

“He was working to give us more,” Jaime whispered. “And now… I’d give anything just to have him back.”

This Friday, they’ll gather to say goodbye to a husband, a father, a man who lived with quiet strength and left a legacy of love far bigger than any paycheck.

The community of Demopolis grieves with them. Friends, neighbors, even strangers have reached out — bringing food, prayers, and donations. But what they’re really bringing is what Alan gave so freely: kindness.

If you can, offer yours too. For Jaime. For Brady, Allie Ruth, and Charlie.
For the family of The Best Father Ever.