"The world likes to whisper into our ear that time is the healer of our wounds, but time is not a true healer. It simply creates distance between us and the source of our pain. Time is a Band-Aid that covers our aches from sight."
Love Him Anyway by Abby BanksPeople always talk about events or things in their lives that made time stand still and until that happens to you, you think that they are crazy or that feeling could not happen; but it can.
In December of 2005, my world stood still for seemingly a 3 day period. Three days that felt like an eternity and also like the blink of an eye at the same time; both living through it and reflecting upon it.
A typical Friday morning started with a text and then a call, wondering if I had heard from Taylor. More calls came in and all of us connected to look for him and try to get in touch with him. Of course, him not being able to be contacted was not unusual, but today it was different.
When the phone rang I knew it was not good. I had that gut instinct, I just knew. I knew that one of my greatest fears had happened. He was gone. Truly gone. Not missing. Not out somewhere that we weren't sure where he was. Gone.
Nothing prepares you for gone. Nothing prepares you for finality. Nothing prepares you to literally change your clothes and go handle a situation that rips you to the core, but you just do it.
I threw clothes in a bag, got in the car with Jeffrey and headed home. A two hour drive that felt like a flash but also like we would never get there. How do you get your thoughts together when you know that you are going home to find and that it is not good? What would I tell my parents? How would we handle everything? What exactly were we going to find and need to deal with? I talked incessantly and then was quiet. I jammed music. I sat in silence. I was freezing. I was sweating. Jeffrey held my hand as I drove too fast and then too slow, and then fast again. The closer we got to home, the more anxious I got as I was truly unsure as to what would happen next; all the while knowing that it had to be done and that being strong for all involved was what I would do.
As I turned on my parents, road, my entire body filled with heartache and dread and sadness. I did not know exactly what I was about to face, but I knew it was not going to be good. Long before we got to their house, we began to see cars lining both sides of the road leading to my parents' home. As I approached the driveway, I could see cars covering the yard and down the street past the house, but the driveway was clear for me to come home.
The driveway and backyard were filled with people. People I knew, people I loved, people who loved us, people I did not know. It was as though they were everywhere. I drew in a deep breath, Jeffrey squeezed my hand, and I opened the car door. All eyes were on me. Nobody said a word, only looked at me with tears and sadness in their eyes. I walked through the crowd and opened the back door.
Once I opened the door, the same was true inside as it was outside, people were everywhere and they were all looking at me, expectantly yet silent. I simply said something like, "Thank you all for coming." I looked around to see heads nodding, simply acknowledging what I said. Again, everyone moved out of the way as I made my way to the bedroom to face my parents.
Both of their heads turned to meet mine, waiting to see what I would say. I met both of their stares letting them know what we all knew, that he was gone...dead. My affirmation led them both to giving in to sobs and squeals and head shakes and quivering and shouting and convulsing; joined by the other close family that was in the room. I explained that we were simply waiting on the police to come and confirm exactly how.
My thoughts were everywhere, as they had been since we could not get in touch with him that morning. Where was he? What was he doing? Who was he with? What had he gotten into this time? How did this happen? How did it play out? Where was he now? All of these questions would be answered, at least in part, as soon as the detectives came in.
It felt like forever, but finally the police and detective came and we ushered them in to the bedroom where the close family waited. The main detective was a close friend to some of our family, and when his 6' 4" 300 plus burly frame entered sobbing, we all knew it was even worse than we expected. Hands were held, arms were around each other, tears streaming down faces waiting to hear the verdict.
Suicide.
The room was silent. He explained that he had been out with a friend hunting that morning and committed suicide...in the woods...with a shotgun. Still...silence. I immediately thanked him for the information and for his handling of the situation and he explained what we must do next; many things that none of us wanted to do but had to do. The officers and detective hugged the family, shared condolences and left to finish up the paperwork and investigation.
My thoughts were reeling, but there was not time for thinking, only reacting and handling things. I went out to where everyone was as they waited for me to share what we knew. Nobody was looking at me, everyone had their head down. I told them exactly what the police told us. Gasps, sobs, screams. It was absolutely horrible. Looking at people who I knew loved us, loved Taylor, and to see them hurt like that was absolutely gut wrenching. My parents and family finally emerged from the bedroom, and everyone swarmed with hugs and "I love you's" and "I'm so sorry's."
The next morning started bright and early. People were there when I woke up with breakfast and paper products and flowers and willing to do whatever they could to help or support. I began to dole out what needed to be done and handling funeral arrangements, body identification, obituary writing, death certificates, getting and going through his vehicle, still dealing with the police, and whatever else came up. The back door to our house was like a revolving door, and yes I said back door, nobody ever comes to Momma and Daddy's back door - everyone is family.
Sunday was the funeral. Graveside only and we rode in our own cars because we were and are simple people who love each other. On the drive, I tried to keep my parents calm enough to remain stable and we made it. As we drove down the four-lane to the funeral home, the same scene appeared - cars as far as we could see. It was unlike anything I have ever experienced. I got out, opened the doors to get my parents out, hugged them both and grabbed Jeffrey's hand. We headed to the graveside, one that I could literally not see due to the sea of people. The funeral home attendants made them create an opening so we could walk through, and as we did, I looked around to see people who I had no idea cared or loved us like they did. It was so completely endearing and sad all at the same time.
The service was beautiful and everything was as perfect as possible for a human that was larger than life and loved by literally all walks of life. Many people even went to the "alter" at the end of the service to get their lives right. It wasn't lost on me that Big Tate was changing and impacting lives even in death. We stood there, for hours, hugging and talking to everyone who came and wanted to speak to us. The overwhelming outpouring of love was something that has forever changed my life. Even in our hardest moments, our people were and are there. Still, today, people text me on this date to share their love and their memories of Big Tate and those people are some of the best people on Earth.
As we rode away from the service, so many things stuck with me about Taylor/Big Tate and about life and people in general. My mind skipped from one thought to the other, but the mainly I continued to think about how incredibly blessed we were - even in such a horrible time. Life is incredibly short, so make the most of it. Make memories. Take pictures. Love people. Laugh. Do not wait for tomorrow.
As the quote that I started with this implies - my wounds are not healed - but there are Band-Aids on them. Those Band-Aids come in the form of people, kind words, a text to check on you, the people who were there the night we pulled up, the prayers, the "I love you's," the smiles, the encouragement, the people who love us, and many other ways. Don't forget to realize your Band-Aids. I am incredibly thankful for mine, for without them, I wouldn't have made it!
Now:
I can't write this without describing who Taylor was...
Taylor was one of the kindest, most gentle souls I have ever known. His heart was bigger than life and he absolutely adored people and made everyone laugh and feel like they were the best person. Taylor always had a smile, and a dip cup, Birkenstocks, and Doc Martens. He was an incredible athlete, and I can't imagine how good he would have been if he would have even tried when he should have. Ha. He would give you the shirt off of his back or get drunk with you and reminisce on the best times. He absolutely loved his family and friends. He was the person that so many of us wanted to be. He was the kid who made jokes, but spoke to everyone in the room. He got along with everyone - for the most part. He was a Clemson Tiger - mainly to spite my parents I think. He loved Slim Jims, his black leather coat, and of course - the Wildcats. He was the #59. He was my brother, my best friend. We made some horrible decisions and we made some of the best memories. He took care of me and watched out for me and anyone else who needed it. His spirit is one that I literally can't put in to words, he was an incredible person. He impacted everyone he ever met in some way and I do not think he ever knew that or realized the impact he had on others. I always tried to encourage him to see himself as others saw him...I hope that at some point he did...
I see him at Wilson-Campbell Stadium.
I see him on Kate Fowler Road.
I see him on the South Carolina beaches.
I see him in every 1995 White Jeep Cherokee.
I smell him in every can of Skoal/Grizzly Wintergreen.
I smell him in Little Debbie Cakes.
I smell him in cheap hair gel.
I smell him in stale smoke and feel him in bars.
I hear him in Biggie and Tupac and Master P and the Beastie Boys.
He is part of every day that I still have and I would not have it any other way.
He also struggled with addiction. He struggled with mental health. He fought like hell against his demons on a daily basis. But he NEVER fought alone. So many people stepped up to stand with him, to fight beside him, to love him, to be what he needed. I will NEVER be able to thank those people enough. People who gave of themselves to help, to fight, to talk to, to encourage, to mentor. Band-Aids.
Thank God for Band-Aids. Even if they only distance the pain and heal temporarily, they make this life worth living.
***If you struggle with addiction or mental health issues, please reach out to someone. I'm here. Other people are here. Contact someone. ***
National Suicide Prevention Hotline: 1-800-273-8255
National Mental Health and Addiction Support: https://www.samhsa.gov/find-help/national-helpline
South Carolina Suicide Prevention: https://www.sprc.org/states/south-carolina
South Carolina Addiction Help: https://www.addictioncenter.com/rehabs/south-carolina/
