Today, the roads were icy and dangerous - so dangerous that a dear younger acquaintance of mine who graduated from the same high school as myself was killed earlier today during a car accident. Taylor Roark was his name. He played baseball at Sylvan Hills (in Sherwood, Arkansas) for many years before entering college at Henderson State University in order to play baseball. I’ve umpired baseball out at Sylvan Hills for almost ten years of my own short life. Taylor was a catcher. As baseball players understand, umpires form somewhat of a bond with their catchers - probably because they’re both stuck back behind the plate the whole game with not much to do except shoot the breeze. In the few games that I umpired behind the plate with Taylor as catcher, I got to know him as being a respectful, talented, funny and deeply passionate baseball player. Considering that my time with Taylor was limited to the baseball field, I can only imagine how that passion stretched to other facets of his life, such as friends, family and school. Earlier in the school year, I wrote to both Taylor and Garrett (by facebook) that I wanted to have them over and cook dinner for them some night to kind of welcome them to Arkadelphia. We never got around to it. I regret that now.
Of course, my regret won’t change anything. Neither will the whole other set of emotions and fears against which my mind and spirit battle. I didn’t know Taylor very well. Yet as little as I knew him, I liked him - and his death is certainly a profound enough event to invoke my heart to sorrow - for many reasons. Perhaps because he was so young and inexperienced with life. Perhaps because the world has lost a talented baseball player. Perhaps because I recognize the nature of the heartfelt posts written on his wall in his honor - they try to remain positive; but deep down, they’re all hurting badly. Or perhaps it’s something else at least in part:
Truthfully, the startling finality of death is such a sobering reality that it often causes an irreversible solemnity birthed in the hearts of those who feel its sting. Why? Because with each death experienced, a person is reminded of the fact that his/her life itself is nothing more than mist that appears among billions in this long history of humanity. And some day, that mist will end. That’s what we fight against. That’s why it hurts so terribly. It’s not just the loss of a dear friend, brother, son, or teammate. It’s the knowledge that, all of a sudden, all that we know is brought into question and irreconcilable change. It’s the awful reality of knowing that we’re just as vulnerable. We’re just as close. We’re just as uncertain.
And then comes the issue of eternity - and eventually the subject of God. I won’t spend this time asserting a certain position concerning my own belief in God. That wouldn’t be right. However, what is right is this: we all better be sure of what we believe concerning this whole God thing. Because if this dark tragedy has taught us anything, it has taught us that life is not guaranteed. There is no promise. Plans can be (and often are) broken.
Thus, to return right back to our lives as before with no more of an enlightened sense of purpose or duty or God would be even more tragic. Because then, Taylor’s death meant nothing. We honor him by learning from his story and his end. We honor him by living life to its fullest - having no regrets. And by this, I don’t mean engaging in some meaningless, reckless activity that does nothing more than dull the inevitable pain that each of us will continue to feel. What I mean is doing the hard work of searching out Truth and finding meaning in life - a venture that finds its end in a life devoted to loving, serving, and enriching the lives of other people, finding oneself to be in the very will and intention and pleasure of God Almighty.
My prayers and active support rest with the family and friends of Taylor Roark
SRay
January 26th, 2008 at 1:25 pm
steven, that was awesome. Taylor was my little sisters boyfriend and didnt deserve this. God does work in mysterious ways, and now its cool to know he can watch down and keep her safe wherever she is. Thanks for caring because it truly is a great loss. He was part of family, and we’re gonna miss him bustin through the door without knocking…haha thank you….honestly
p. ryan scott
January 26th, 2008 at 9:51 pm
Dearest Steven, You are very wise for your young years and, I believe, have been truly blessed. I found this website by accident while searching for news about Taylor Roark. I did not know him personally but my family and their friends did. You see, I am Taylore’ Elizabeth Hall’s Aunt. As you may remember, Taylore’ Elizabeth was taken from us tragically in 2004 with her friends, Alicia Rix and Jae Lynn Russell at Hwys 5 & 89 in Cabot. We feel the Roark’s pain all too well and know the loss that they will continue to feel until the day they are reunited with their Taylor. Once again, these young friends and classmates will have to find a way to deal with their loss and this is something I worry about. Even 4 years later, I know that some of Taylore’, Alicia & Jae Lynn’s friends continue to grieve and struggle with their pain. They sometimes feel like they’re alone and have no one to talk to that could possibly understand what they continue to feel because people think, and tell them, they should be “over it” and “move on”. And now, losing yet another young friend, brings all their feelings back to the surface. I guess what I’m hoping by writing here is that you will offer your wisdom, strength and faith to those friends not only now, but also in the future. They’re going to need all the comfort, love and prayers that we can give to get them through the days to come. God Bless.
January 28th, 2008 at 11:38 am
Stephen,
My son Blaine Horsman attended Sylvan Hills High School and he was killed in a vehicle accident on July 28, 2000. My daughter is very goood friends with Taylor’s girl friend. My heart aches for her and Taylor’s Mother. Thank you so much for writing about Taylor, I did not know him, but I wish I had.
Cathy
January 28th, 2008 at 5:28 pm
Dear Steven,
I’m feeling the pain of Taylor passing away. My son Daniel Gallegos played baseball for 2 years at Sylvian Hill High School. And he knew Taylor very well. Not only as a team player but as a friend. When I learned about the accident, my heart went to Taylor’s parents and my son. As I know how precious life can be. And with our children being so far away from us for college, to follow their dreams, it tears at our hearts as parents for our children to be so far away. Taylor was a great person. As I did not know him as well as others, I just hope that all will remember how precious life is and how offen we dont think about that. My heart goes out to all that knew and loved Taylor Roark. May God bless them all.
January 29th, 2008 at 12:33 pm
Stephan your name sound so familar. I am class of 91 from Sylvan Hills. Your ode touch my heart deeply. My mind is going 100 mph and kept going back to when Taylor was 4 and 5 years old. I was his preschool teacher.
He loved to pay catch, tackle anyone who would let him, his laugh was contagious and angelic, and his smile brighten up a room. He was kind, laid back, and so peaceful as a child. I miss holding him in my arms rocking him to sleep at daycare, when he zonked out he had this little drool dripping. I watch him grow from afar through friday night newscast on sports. I was so honored that i was able to have watch grow up to a handsome young man.
He is now a guardian angel to those he loved and cared for. He never met a stranger.
Thanks again for such wonderful words to honor a life that was cut short.
God bless.