The most shocking thing about this revelation personally was the fact that in 1989, while still hurting from her rejection while in college and unable to ever find the courage to ask another young woman that same question through which she crushed my limited self-confidence, I had written a nasty poem aimed at her entitled "I wish you dead." This poem was later published in the collection entitled Static Poetry Volume 1 from small press Static Movement in 2011 and retitled "I wish her dead." I truly hated her, with the memory of that hatred lingering inside to this day, and wished she would die, never imagining my wish would be granted some fifteen years or so later. Careful what you wish for, eh? There had been no closure in the matter of my feelings both positive and negative toward her as a result of this tragedy. I once tried writing her a friendly 2-page letter as a way of saying goodbye in 1991, but being a coward feared it might be destroyed if sent to her parents' home in Ironton and I had no way of knowing her student address at Ohio State University. I never mailed the letter and still have it on my computer to this day.
Some obviously biased, one-sided backstory might be in order at this point for the curious who will probably brand me a weirdo for maintaining such an obsession. Call me what names you will - I've probably heard them all before. I only write this post on the anniversary of her death for the cathartic release substitute. As I said earlier, I first met Holly Lynn Taylor in June 1984 as summer marching band practice started, beginning my second year as a squad leader as a Junior - the prior year proving a trying experience especially with one particular girl in that squad that was too overbearing and bossy (I cannot stand bossy women). Holly seemed sweet as honey and rather bright, pleasant company in general, but I was not attracted to her immediately beyond noticing her beauty - added to by a former band member stopping by to visit that summer and bragging he had a photo of her in a white bikini from a local private swimming pool (which he could not produce from his wallet having left it out of there). Unfortunately any chance to get to know her better was cut short unexpectedly by September when our band leader asked me to switch instruments (to marching baritone) and fill in for a brass section squad short one member (who had transferred to the county's vocational school as a senior) - an unusual request I should have refused in hindsight. Imagine barely learning a new instrument in a few weeks and finding yourself under a Sophomore squad leader (who fortunately was a friend). We had no other classes together, so except for band class and lunch I never saw her in school.
Fast forward to the band's 1985 spring picnic in nearby Hanging Rock, Ohio at a campground, where I rebuffed her first attempt at being my friend by getting to know me better. Holly found out I had never learned to swim and offered to teach me that summer. I did not take the offer seriously at first, since I was a huge 270-pound 17-year-old getting over a crush I had for another girl and did not believe she could be an effective life guard preventing my drowning during the lesson. In a normal young man this would be a gateway to eventual friendship and possible romance. I asked if she was serious and again refused her offer. I also realize there might have been an issue with potential arousal as seeing her in a bikini for real back then. By the fall of 1985 I realized my mistake but felt it was too late to ask for another chance. I also realized I was falling in love with her, but she still had her boyfriend from Junior High and seemed in no hurry to trade, until I heard they were breaking up. Of course, I am a social misfit (who may have had the mental disorder Asperger's Syndrome all his life) and long for her from afar in my senior year. Another mortal would have told her how he felt and tried being her closest male friend. The second friendship act I rebuffed came in February 1986 at a local roller skating rink where some of our teachers took students enrolled to take state scholarship tests that year. In all my years I have never been able to roller skate, and barely could ride a bicycle (from age 7 to age 14 when I stopped), but now know Asperger's sufferers are physically clumsy as part of the syndrome. She offered to help me on my roller skates, but after barely being able to stand on the damned wheeled shoes for less than fifteen minutes and hating the embarrassement of being unable to stand on them, I skulked off and sulked until the trip had ended. Of course she was just having fun and I was no fun at all, probably reinforcing any negative view toward me as a potential boyfriend.
Then by the time I graduated high school and still attracted to her, I decided it was my obese appearance that made her refuse casual requests for a date in April during band class. At 18, I went on a three-month crash diet and dropped from 275 to 225 pounds by summer's end, never realizing it was not my weight that proved a barrier to winning her heart and not learning until several more months later that a former close friend had already beat me to gaining her as a girlfriend. So, on a Friday evening at a football game, knowing I would see the High School Junior there as she was in the band's flag corps by then, I asked her for a date in my new slimmed down proportions assuming she would say yes. Of course she said NO without seeming to even care or consider my offer seriously. I was devestated, minutes later asking her why and barely remembering some polite answers about how we allegedly had nothing in common (not entirely true), but I was so torn up inside I barely listened to anything by then. In highsight I probably should have committed suicide later that night.
The main result of this major rejection upon my fragile 18-year-old mind was to lose all the courage it had taken to even ask that question. I have never managed to ask another woman for a date again in 26 years - pathetic, I know. I also gained back all that lost weight within four years of college and put on about twenty to thirty more ugly pounds as a graduate student. A normal neurological mind would have brushed off the rejection and moved on. I could not I now realize with this Asperger's brain. I occasionally thought about her over the years, hating my ex-friend for having gotten to date her (despite his rumored infideliity while a college student when she was still in high school and dating him) and never finding any woman I ever could ask - sometimes being blocked by circumstances beyond my control (lack of interest in me, a boyfriend as my rival).
I only learned that she had married a western Ohio chiropractor named Detrick in her obituary and that they had two children - a daughter named Anna and a son named Collin. She was married on December 30, 1994 less than two years after she graduated with high honors from the Ohio State University nursing school (she was also her high school class' valedictorian - the photo above is from our local newspaper announcing that achievement). Coincidentally there is no microfilm record of a wedding announcement in the local paper for January 1995 (there were no Sunday editions copied for January - so I have no idea what the couple looked like on their wedding day). I never realized what a great catch she potentially was when we were in high school - but hindsight is 20/20. I think it is a strange coincidence for someone to have been born, gotten married and died all in the same calendar month of different years. I mean she was killed in the car accident (hit by a semi truck, or so my cousin once learned from her mother) three days short of her 35th Birthday - how's that for cosmic irony. It turns out I learned from her obituary she and my late father shared the same birthplace - Chillicothe, Ohio - where many extended members of the Haney family still live and where my family once owned a sawmill decades ago. Another thing she and I had in common was playing the B-flat clarinet in band. But I guess the things we had in common I knew and did not know would not overcome the fact that I was probably not her type of boyfriend (or possibly husband) - athletic, average height assholes with a practical joker streak and fun to be around. I was no fun and she probably sensed that about me from observations of my behavior. I also did not like to drink alcohol (hate the taste of it) and she was clearly a social drinker in college (hence I labeled her a party whore when discovering this from some photos her friends posted of her on Facebook).
Speaking of her friends, some of whom I still despise to this very day, I should have picked up on how her friendship clique would never include me (but did include that former classmate/friend who got to date her - he was acceptable to them being a semi-jock) and tried to shut me out whenever I hung around them in school. Those people I have connected with on Facebook all act as if their past behavior means nothing to them, will never acknowledge they hurt me and certainly would never apologize (being like the typical social climber snobs from my hometown). I was also disgusted by how her old friends one year ago today told all these wonderful stories about how nice and selfless she was when they knew her. Give me a break. Yes, I screwed up being forever stuck in her freind zone as a teenager (when I wanted to date her), but SHE BROKE MY HEART. No amount of tales about how wonderful a person she was in life will ever make up for that injury. I forgive her hurting me, but cannot forget it.
In conclusion to this long post, not posted in its entirety on Facebook because their system often malfunctions when I try posting long messages there, Holly Lynn Taylor (later Detrick) broke my heart when I was only 18 and I have never truly recovered from the emotional wound as you can see from how I still write about it. I realize now that the Asperger's Syndrome means I will never have any normal romantic relationship with any woman I would consider attractive (and I am not attracted to blondes or redheads - she was a black-haired brunette), and that (without realizing it back then) I NEVER had a chance to even date her as the fat loser I was with several screws loose. I make this the last post for a long time and do not care what feedback if any it receives. Holly, I still carry something of a loving feeling toward your memory, but your death means I can have no closure (and that night at Tanks Memorial Stadium was not it) and that I cannot lust after another man's wife at least. I want you to know how much you hurt me. May God inform you of that fact in the future. I'm done here.
ADDITIONAL NOTE (12/12/2012) - Holly would have been 43 years old today and looking forward to her 18th wedding anniversary on the 30th. Pardon me all to blazes for dwelling on this person and missed opportunities through the lenses of 20/20 hindsight. In my life, she is the ONE that got away.