The sister and cousin I speak of is my dearest friend, Melissa, who has now truly become my sister (only we have the bonus of not sharing our mother's eternal devotion!). Being so wise and stunningly perceptive, she once told me that it is comforting to reminisce, almost jovial to laugh and remember the wonderful antics, accomplishments and stories of her brother---but no matter how much time passes we all still prefer the real thing here on this earth. We still miss him, anyone who knew Sam can attest he was one of a kind. In fact, when you think of the real article, the individual who tests boundaries for the greater good, takes charge when no one else is willing---well that is our Sam. So yeah, remembering him is not as satisfying as having him sit beside you and argue over a political race, tease you he is going to take the last crescent roll at Grandpa's house, or teach you the hints on making it in this world as a lefty. And nothing on this earth will ever sound as punctuated and perfect as the sound of his booming, cowboy laugh. It was a thing of beauty and if you weren't eventually laughing too then you better get checked out.
A recent song I heard by Grace Potter and The Nocturnals strikes a cord:
And I can't look at the stars
They make me wonder where you are
Stars, up on heaven's boulevard
And if I know you at all, I know you've gone too far
So I, I can't look at the stars.
But it is really the emotional antithesis of how I feel. In fact the more I look at the stars the more connected I still feel to Sam, it comforts me to know he is up in that big sky looking down on us and coming up with some doozy one liners to share.I suppose this post serves to remember Sam, remind my family they are not alone. I too still think of him and miss him desperately. But I also hope to share this with so many I know who are new to grief, the kind that cannot be undone, and seems will never heal--they too have lost an irreplaceable soul. You don't get over it, but you do get on with it. And those bright lights up in the sky, those beautiful people we miss--they would be very proud to see you living it up down here. Although the grief does not subside and new beginnings like a birth or a marriage sometimes only make you feel sorrowful because the loved one gone too soon wasn't here to share in that joy. We may never know what Sam would've named his babies, but luckily we have his namesake with a wide grin carrying on many traditions that would make big Sam beam. And his niece and nephews all have traits of our beloved FFA President and hereford expert. 20 years later, he is still the FFA President to me.
Some families see much more grief than ours, and others will never be dealt the difficult hand of losing someone so young---but you cannot measure someone else's pain. The important thing is to understand we all walk this journey on earth hoping for a bright tomorrow and trying to keep memories alive that really matter. Never stop remembering. Melissa told me a story just last year I had never heard. She recalled a time when she and Sam got home early off the bus and the door was locked, my aunt wasn't home from teaching yet. It was cold. Sam gave Melissa his coat right off his back. He didn't want her to be cold. I teared up on the phone as she shared this little memory and found myself, oddly and ashamedly, a little envious. Had my brother ever shared the coat off his back? Heck no! Then again he saved me from drowning in the deep end once, he made me change into longer shorts many times before school (and threatened if I didn't oblige I would have to ride with mom and not in his cool, red jeep wrangler). He was learning from Sam all along---I knew it. Just another piece of that cowboy we still have with us.
To all my Taylor clan (by blood, marriage, circumstance or otherwise) I love you. Especially to Josh, keep living the dream brother, Sam would be so very proud; and to Melissa, you are a pretty big deal and you don't even know it---through all the adversity you simply amaze me; and to Aunt Sheila and Uncle Charlie, you opened your door to me and let me deep within your hearts--thanks for inviting me. And Dad, you were my rock without even trying at the exact moments I needed you most, I adore you.
I cannot end without paraphrasing a few country songs in my dear cousin's memory. I will never forget that day they said you went away, we don't know what tomorrow brings or if tomorrow will come but I know you would never want any of us to miss the dance. And Sam we still miss you.
