At only 20 years old, a lot of the time, I feel like I have lived a very long life, and as such, have pretty much learned or done everything that will ever be considered important.

For example, I can name all of the American presidents, in order. I’ve held a tarantula, scorpion, and I’m not saying I’m a dog whisperer, but the title has been tossed around on a few occasions. I’m very good at dodging certain questions from very small children, and I’ve scaled a few mountainsides without any regard for my safety.

Like I said, at this point, I’ve pretty much got this world figured out.

But for all I’ve accomplished, I’ve been forced to realize that there are things I will never be able to comprehend.

For starters, I will never know the feeling of losing my mother at the age of 18.

Bobbi Kristina was born an ordinary girl, to an extraordinary family. Her mother was the late Whitney Houston, whose powerhouse voice still resonates with us from the grave. Her father, Bobby Brown, was also a hugely successful entertainer, part of the group New Editions, and then as a solo artist.

Although there is no doubt they loved their daughter, both her parents struggled, publicly and privately, with issues. There were drugs, allegations of domestic abuse, and a constantly up and down marriage; it all eventually led to the couple’s divorce in 2007.

Now Bobbi Kristina wasn’t just the child of two superstars; she was also a child of a failed marriage.

No one can be sure what led to it. An oversight from her parents? A lifetime surrounded by a music industry synonymous with everything but the music? A fascination from the American public of celebrity children?

No matter how it happened, Bobbi Kristina became tabloid fodder. Her weight was criticized, her outfits ridiculed, and her antics in and out of school often causing her to be labeled a wild child. Though she tried to achieve the goal of a normal high school life, when you leave school to attend a red carpet event that same day, things are anything but normal.

Eventually, like all things, Bobbi Kristina fell out of the tabloid circuit. There were cuter celebrity babies to report on, speculations of separations to take place, and the sexiest people alive issues had to be put into place.

Then, three years ago, the unthinkable happened.

Whitney Houston, her mother, friend, protector, and everything else, died suddenly. She had drowned in a bathtub in a hotel, hours before the Grammy’s. The autopsy report showed that she had a mix of different drugs in her system at the time.

Bobbi Kristina was devastated.

In one swoop, the careful world she and her mother had constructed had suddenly descended upon her.

It’s hard not to imagine her fears, her anxieties, her doubts about the future. The public mourned a superstar, but she mourned a mother. I assume it swirled inside her like a dark storm, where nothing––and no one––was safe anymore.

Whether or not Bobbi moved on from her mother’s untimely death will forever remain a mystery. On the outside, it seemed like she had. She revealed to the public that she had married, in interviews she said she felt her mother with her at all times, and we caught a glimpse of a strong, young woman.

Was she saying this to the masses to make them feel better, or was it for herself?

She became the sole executor of her mother’s will; a vast empire of wealth, estimated in the millions. She was in charge of the money, and her mother’s legacy. It was up to her now to let everyone know, make sure everyone remembered, who her best friend had been.

A few days before the third anniversary of her mother’s death, Bobbi Kristina was found unconscious, drowning in a bathtub.

For six months, she held on. News of her condition eked out slowly to the media. Conflicting reports arose. Finally, it was understood that she had irreversible brain damage, and had drowned due to an overdose.

She was 22.

I will never forget an interview I watched, years ago, with Whitney and her daughter, sitting side by side. Fresh-faced at only 15 or 16 years old, Bobbi had a winning gap-toothed smile, and told the reporter that she wanted to grow up and be a singer.

Beside her, Whitney shook her head, a pained expression crossing her face, repeating the word ‘no’ over and over. The teenager looked over at her mother, then leaned in to the reporter, saying that she did not approve of her future career choices.

Without warning, the mother placed a hand on her daughter, a gentle gesture. She looked between her and the reporter as she explained that what she did not want was her baby to suffer the way she had, did not want her to end up on a path that could lead to self-destruction in this cutthroat industry.

Bobbi Kristina shrugged it off with a smile.