It's OK not to understand everything. Sometimes that's what we have to tell ourselves. Other times we can't help but try while clinging on to what we know.
Patti Burton knows "Let Go" by DeWayne Woods was playing that morning. She remembers that. The symbolic song about releasing your struggles to God is almost personal now.
It was playing the last day she saw her son when she dropped him off for his third day of his junior year at Westland High School. He was too big for kisses now, so she settled by touching his forearm and told him to have a blessed day.
The rest of it, she doesn't understand. It's a lesson Burton learned long ago from her 16-year-old son.
"He says 'Mom, you don't understand'," she said. "Those are his words to me all the time, 'You don't understand'."
The lack of understanding has gone on almost 11 years now.
"It was late [and] he's past his curfew," Burton said. "And, there was no Garrett."
Friday night, August 29, 2008. Garrett wasn't answering his phone. He was supposed to be home by 11:30 p.m.
Older brother Georden had said two friends had picked Garrett up after school.
"Next thing I know, there's all this commotion outside [and it's] pitch black," she said.
Two officers in suits came to her door. Then, they came in. They asked for a picture of Garrett, and then they told her.
"They said you need to sit down," Burton said. "I said 'sit down for what?' They said 'Ma'am, your son has been murdered.'"
Garrett's father, George, retired from the Columbus Police Department six years ago after a 33-year career.
"Whoever did this was just a straight up coward," he said. "Just a coward."
Late Friday night, early Saturday morning on August 30, 2008, police say Garrett was with friends and throwing eggs at passing cars near Hilliard-Rome Road when someone, reportedly mad about the prank, approached the group with a gun.
Patti says what happened next is a first-hand account from one of Garrett's friends who was hiding behind a tree about 10 feet away.
"And he said to me he saw Garrett put his hands up and say I did not throw any eggs at your car, but he said I can help you wash it off," she said.
The person persisted and demanded Garrett, who was 6'1" and 240 pounds, get down.
"He described it that because of Garrett's size that he was having a hard time trying to get down on one knee and that person put that gun right here and shot him," she said, putting her fingers to her neck.
That first day turned to two. Two days turned into a month. A month turned into a year. This August will mark 11 years since Garrett Burton was murdered.
"It hasn't really gotten any easier," George Burton said.
Garrett's family remembers him as a good person and someone who was always willing to help others. They say he lifted the spirits of those who needed a pick-me-up. Sometimes, Patti says it was that good will that often made him late for class or miss assignments.
"And when I would confront him with this, he said 'But mom, you don't understand'," she said.
She said she never understood until after he was gone.
"It just clicked," she said. "I didn't understand he knew what he was supposed to do there. He was doing exactly what his mission of life was."
His parent's mission for more than a decade, now, has been trying to get answers.
Answer that so far have never come.
The Burtons now see their son at Greenlawn Cemetery. Patti, George and Georden decorate his grave site for the seasons. Currently, fresh mulch accompanies Garrett's picture and his two favorite cars; a Mustang and a Hummer. There's also a Winnie-The-Pooh, which his parents say was his nickname in high school.
As hard as it can be to admit, it's OK not to understand everything. Maybe, sometimes, it's best to let go of what you have no control over and believe the situation is in good hands.
The family says they remain hopeful that someone, somewhere knows something about Garrett's murder. If you think you can help investigators in this case, you are urged to call the Columbus Police Department at 614-645-2616.