Gardner Cameron. Masen Goggins. Nate Jones. Bethany Walters. Bradyn White.
The names are etched forever in my memory. They are gone but not forgotten.
While I never met them in person, I know all these Elmore County teens were loved. There are likely more I left off and definitely more in Tallapoosa County.
Over the last 18 months, I reported on their deaths and in the process learned just how loving they all were. I was there as friends and family shared their stories and memories of their loved ones. They were grieving. They were sharing the love they could no longer share with a soul taken too early.
In some ways I felt like a vulture. I wanted to make sure everyone knew who the teens were.
Hopefully I did.
I wanted to share their stories in hopes of preventing the next teen death. In all cases, something simple likely could have prevented the deaths. But what I learned along the way is we wait too long to say three words: “I love you.”
It’s three words I always hear from retired pastor Wayne Cowhick when our conversations end.
I didn’t really notice them until the Monday after my late editor and friend Mitch Sneed died.
Bro. Wayne and Mitch didn’t see eye to eye on much, but they both loved their community.
Bro. Wayne was one of the first in the office on Monday morning offering comfort when I and my coworkers were reporting Mitch’s death.
I have seen something similar in Eclectic and Holtville the last week and half. It’s been a pastor, a friend, a teacher, a principal and sometimes a stranger, all reaching out to those in the community grieving and mourning — just loving on them.
One thing has stood out in all of those interactions: Those who have left us too soon all loved us. The stories shared are funny and full of lessons, but many of those who have spoken up have spoken of not knowing what the future holds without their friend or classmate.
It has been 4 ½ years since Mitch died. A day doesn’t go by I don’t think about him. I learned so much from him. He set a bar I can never reach. He was a storyteller. He was superhuman. Mitch could do so much.
I look back at my time with Mitch and wonder. It was great, but how do I move on?
I have one regret. It is a lesson I’m still learning.
You see Mitch, like Bro. Wayne and all the teenagers who have died, did one thing. They loved everyone and they let them know it. It is not a love like a husband and wife have.
It is a love thy neighbor as you would have them love you.
It is supporting one another in good times and bad. It is offering a helping hand or an ear to listen. It is simply being there.
I think I have done most of this. I help out. I listen. OK, I sometimes listen in the case of my boss.
In hearing the stories of Gardner, Masen, Nate, Bethany and Bradyn, I’m sure they loved their friends and family in their own way and let them know it. Just like Bro. Wayne.
I can hear them say ‘I love you’ just through the memories shared with me.
But there is one thing I have forgotten to do. I don’t do it with my parents as much as I should. I do it with my son, but still not enough. I never do it with my sister and never with my friends.
I challenge you, just like I’m challenging myself to be vocal about loving our neighbors. Let's be more like those taken from us too early. Let’s all say three words now and not after we are gone.
Going forward, don't be surprised if I finish a conversation with a handshake or hug and the words, “I love you, man.”
