Midlands attorney Stanley Myers was a hero to his family, many others | Opinion

Death is hard.

In January, we lost my niece Kaiyah Tselani Tyanna Horton-Seawright in a car accident. That was hard enough. But then, on Wednesday, Sept. 27, my first cousin, Stanley Myers, passed away suddenly at home. He was 47 years old, and he was a hero.

In the immediate days following his passing, there were countless social media tributes and news stories memorializing Stanley’s life. They talked about his accomplishments, his records achieved as a quarterback at The Citadel and the shining example he left both as a student and an alum. They talked about him as a patriot pointing to his service as a captain with the 218th Infantry Brigade deployed to Afghanistan during Operation Enduring Freedom and his rise as a lieutenant colonel and the first African-American Judge Advocate military judge with the McEntire Joint National Guard Base. They talked about his diligence as a pillar of South Carolina’s legal community, his dedication as an activist and a community leader and his unwavering devotion as a husband and a father.

Still, something was missing.

They talked about how he’d served on the Citadel Board of Visitors and the Lexington Medical Center Board of Directors. They talked about how he’d created the Swansea Mentoring Program to help kids like he’d been reach their God-given potentials. They talked about him organizing the Town of Swansea’s Bike Bonanza giving out dozens of bicycles and other presents to children in his hometown every year. They talked about how he’d opened Countryside BBQ so family members who were facing hard times could make a living and rebuild their lives and they talked about how he took the time to make everyone he ever met feel seen and heard and more.

Still, something was missing because, when I think about Stanley, those were the things he did — not who he was. Maybe that’s because Stanley was my first cousin and, growing up together in Swansea, SC, I don’t think of him as this towering figure of honor and achievement. I think about his easy smile and a laugh that could lift you up even at a distance. I think about drinking sweet tea at family reunions, joking around under July 4th fireworks and playing country boy games in fallow fields and empty sandlots.

But, the truth is, Stanley was all of those things because his soul was too big for anything else. He wouldn’t sit still for the photo-op because he wasn’t satisfied with the accomplishment. He was always on to the next challenge, pushing the limits not just of what he could do, but who we could be together.

If you’d never met him, it didn’t matter. He believed in you already and that example challenged us never to be satisfied with the moon when we could reach for the stars.

Stanley was a man. He was a great big man. He changed every life he touched for the better in ways that outlived him and will outlive us all.

Death is hard. It breaks us in lots of ways, big and small. But I can’t help but smile through my tears today because I found my answer. Does it matter that Stanley Myers lived? Stanley wasn’t just my hero. He was our hero. He was a legend…and legends live forever.

Antjuan Seawright is the founder and CEO of Blueprint Strategy LLC , a CBS News political contributor, and a senior visiting fellow at Third Way.