Rory Feek, His Daughter Indiana, and the Song That Still Carries Joey’s Memory
It was a quiet morning at Hardison Mill, just outside Columbia, Tennessee. The sun had barely pushed through the clouds when Rory Feek settled on the back porch with a cup of coffee. His guitar rested nearby, waiting, when his daughter Indiana, now 10 years old, climbed into his lap with wide, wondering eyes — and a question.
“Daddy,” she whispered, “when can I see Mama again?”
Rory didn’t answer right away. His gaze drifted to the pasture — the same field Joey once walked barefoot through in the evenings, humming softly to herself. He breathed in, steadying his heart, but when he spoke later about the moment, his voice broke.
“I just… I held her close. And I cried. Because there are some questions a father can’t answer with words.”
It’s been nearly a decade since Joey Feek passed away — the singer, the mother, the heartbeat of a duo whose music carried faith like a hymn. Yet her presence lingers in their home still, like the echo of a prayer sung softly through the halls.
Indiana was only two when her mother died. She doesn’t remember her voice clearly. But she remembers the way people talk about her. The photos. The videos. The songs. The way her daddy’s eyes soften whenever Joey’s name is spoken.
“She remembers the love,” Rory says. “And in some ways, that’s more than memory. That’s soul.”
So Rory did his best. He told Indy that her mama is with Jesus. That heaven isn’t far. That sometimes, when they sing, it feels like the music stretches high enough to brush against eternity.
“She nodded,” Rory said. “And then she asked if we could sing Mama’s song together.”
So they sang.
On the porch, with the wind stirring the old chimes, Rory picked up his guitar and began “When I’m Gone.” Indiana’s voice joined his, soft and unpolished, yet pure — carrying the kind of childlike faith that can break you apart and mend you again in the same breath.
Later, Rory wrote in his journal: “I don’t have answers. But I do have her. And I have Joey. And somehow… that’s enough.”
Because some songs aren’t truly finished. They wait — for the day when all three voices will sing together again.
