In Memory of Tabitha Lynn Gean

It’s been a lot of years. 26 of them to be exact. 26 years since my world as a young college student was turned upside down. 26 years since I was the most confused that a young person could be.

Let me back up a little. A little over two years before this time to when I was in high school and trying to determine what I wanted to do with my life. At summer camp one year I saw her and fell for her. She was an amazing young lady who had been raised to be a wonderful Christian example in every way.

We hit it off and I spent a lot of time after camp driving across the state line into Tennessee to see her. We mainly went to church together to begin with but before long we started spending about every free moment we could spare together. It’s not that unusual of a high school love story.

I graduated and moved to Tennessee — to Freed-Hardeman University to be exact, where I studied Biblical Studies and tried to hone my skills as a minister and speaker. Yet she stayed a very important part of my life. After two years of dating marriage had definitely been a topic of discussion. The future was starting to be discussed but certainly nothing had been set in stone. Of course, I had my hopes.

Then came September 23, 1999. 26 years ago today. I was tying my cleats to go play in an intramural football game when my friend burst in the door: “Tab has been in a car accident…come with me.”

Before we made it to the lobby someone said these words: “she didn’t make it.”

If you have ever been in one of those moments I’m sure you know the sensation. It’s so painful you go numb. Ears ring. Knees buckle. Eyes dilate. And yet, it doesn’t seem real. It feels like you are sinking to the bottom of the ocean but somehow you are still breathing.

And so 26 years ago I was confused. And honestly, parts of it are still very hard to understand. So why am I sharing this today? I’m not really 100% sure. I guess to share a few important things with those who may be sitting where I was all those years ago:

Question God. Let Him know all the feelings you have about it. Yell at God if you need to. Just don’t stop talking to Him about it. He is near the brokenhearted. He has been yelled at before. He has been questioned before. He is big enough to take it…and good enough to take you through it.

Recognize this as a chapter and not the conclusion. It may be a devastating chapter but it is just that. There were good chapters before and there will be good chapters to come. I remember on the day of the funeral her parents took me into her bedroom and told me “we know one day you will meet a girl, fall in love, get married, and have kids…and we want you to — and we want to meet them.” And they have.

I’m not sure how hard that conversation would have been as a parent but they have been so good to me and my family through the years. I cannot imagine life without my wife now. She brought me through a lot of hard times. Because of my pain she had to “compete” with someone who left a legacy. But we have built a marriage and family that I would never trade, which includes five kids who are blessings beyond measure.

And no two experiences are the same. My chapters have been different from her parents’ experiences and those of her friends at school, etc. I cannot imagine their experiences but I’ve tried to be empathetic towards it. Each of our experiences altered life. My experience altered my trajectory in my career. I had gone to college for ministry and yet it would be the University of Hard Knocks that further directed my path.

Counseling was never in the plan before that event. Now, 26 years later, it is very much a part of who I am. I know what pain and devastation feels like…and I do what I can to help others through it. But I also know everyone goes through and processes this sort of thing differently from everyone else. Don’t assume you know how they should grieve. And for goodness sake, don’t hold them to a time line.

It’s been a lot of years. 26 of them to be exact. But every so often it happens: a news story of a young person taken too soon, a date on the calendar, or a random smell in the air can bring with it a feeling in my gut. It’s a feeling of loss but it’s also a reminder of a faithful God who is never finished writing our story until we step into eternity.

In memory of Tabitha Lynn Gean (4/10/82-9/23/99)