My cousin was visiting from Korea. We had spent the past few weeks getting acquainted after a great trip to Niagara Falls. It was our last dinner together–she had an early flight the next morning. The phone rang. It was Ben. I knew immediately that something was wrong. The timing was off–at 6:30pm, it was 3:30am in Iraq.
I didn’t even say hello. I just asked what was wrong. He said, "Dave died." I yelled, "DAVE TAYLOR?". It was.
I remember the tears. I remember hearing my mom crying for him–he was a favorite of hers. I remember continuing to cry as I asked Ben questions. Did he suffer? Was it an IED? What happened? Does Michelle know? What are they going to do? I didn’t really expect answers. I did, though, desperately want to know that he did not suffer. I hope he didn’t. I remember my Honey rubbing my arms in comfort. I remember the silence of all the children (my four and my two nephews). That night is burned into my brain. Every little detail.
Michelle called me that night. She was very strong even in her grief. All I could think was that Jake was robbed of his father.
One year ago today, Major David Gladney Taylor, Jr. was killed by an IED while serving in Iraq. He had two weeks left before his tour would’ve been over.
Rest in peace, my dear friend.
Dave with Honey (2003). He loved her from the moment he picked her up in the hospital. There was no hesitation with holding a newborn for him. We all miss him and my heart has not stopped aching.
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