I remember the day he was born...I was only four but I remember my father lifting me and my sisters up to see him through the nursery window at the hospital. Billy had lots of reddish brown hair and a little bit trailed down his soft baby cheeks creating an Elvis type sideburn look. He was a beautiful baby. I was so proud to finally have a baby brother!
I remember the happiness on my mother's face when my brother came home and we were all a family. From day one I felt very close to the little guy. I remember feeling very protective of him because I thought my sisters were big meanies...Ha ha! That protectiveness lasted. I myself grew into a tom-boy that my girly- girl sisters didn't seem to understand and a bond formed between my brother and I. Billy and I would play He-Man with his action figures, although he made me be She-Ra since I was a girl.
We liked catching frogs and craw-dad's in the creek that ran behind our house. When our little captured critters would die, we would give them little funerals in the fine soil that ran along the side of our house. Billy would always say a little prayer over the tiny grave and sometimes we would cry.
Billy loved nature, Karate, his Mama and sisters. He loved to draw, ride his skateboard and scooter and he had a rat-tail in his hair that was bleached blonde. He liked combat boots and camoflage, loved cheese filled tortillia's, fireworks, the color black, Ninja Turtle's and Jesus.
He had the most beautiful Tiger Eyes that I have ever seen. He was sensitive and kind and had such a loving way about him. Sometimes just out of the blue he would surprise me with a hug and say, "I love you, Sis."
...Billy was a deeply loving and feeling boy. He wasn't embarrassed by cuddling like most boys would be...and when my father left us when he was only a tiny toddler, he became our protector and in many ways he really was. At that time it was only my Mama, my sister's and Billy. He was the baby, but he was the man of the house and his protectiveness showed. He loved us. He showed us that everyday.
I think his life was very full and he really didn't have any problems until our father decided to jump back into his life. Billy went to live with our father in California when he was only eleven (I believe he was eleven). In the meanwhile my mother, (the most lovely woman I know), moved in with her fiancee, Scott and our lives changed drastically, (to no fault of my mother I must add).
What I mean is, during that time I myself lost my first child Corey to SIDS. My mother remarried. My father divorced, consequently sending my brother back home to us with his whole world changed. This all took place in about two years time.
Billy struggled to adjust to a new environment,school and his big sisters all changing into young women with lives of thier own. I remember the remorse he expressed for not being allowed to attened his first nephew's funeral, as he was in California at the time. He held alot of grief for that even though it wasn't his fault.
Billy started to struggle. I knew he struggled. He was only thirteen, the really awkward age. He struggled at school and at home trying to find his place. At school the kids were mean. He went from attending big suburban schools to a small town full of scrutiny if you were not born and raised there. The kids were mean and the teachers didn't care. The teachers were more ugly than the kids could be really. They bullied more than the kids did, I think. If my brother had a problem at school he would beg my mother NOT to go up there and say anything because it would only make it worse for him.
His exact words were, "They don't care, Mom!!!"
He tried to fit in as any kid would by anyone who would accept him. Most of the kids he became friends with were outcast's or "black sheep" themselves.
I unfortunately don't know alot of details of his short life at this point because I was struggling in my own way with losing my son and relocating to Troy's parent's house, (Troy is my husband of almost 9 years now). This time in my life is a kind of vague blurr, if you know what I mean.
The blurr ends here. It was the day that I heard my brother was gone. It stabs me in the heart and I think this event is what awoke me from my daze with losing Corey.
It was December 26th, 1992. I was at home, in our makeshift apartment of my now in-laws basement with Troy. The phone rang and it was Billy.
He said, "What up, Sis?" as he would always say. He asked, "Whatcha doin' tonight? I was wondering if I could come spend the night."
I answered, "I don't think it's a good time, Billy....if it were my house I would say yes but you know how it is." And with a slight tone of dissapointment in his voice he said, "That's cool....I understand." We said our goodbyes...which was "later!" to him and went on with our day.
Some friends of Troy's stopped by later and we started visiting and generally acting like eighteen year olds do. We were all carrying on and talking about Christmas the day before...That's when I got the call.
"Hello?", I said.
"Kelly, this is Linda, Scott's cousin"....(Scott was my stepdad)
"Yes?", I asked
She said, "You need to come out here right away!"
"What's wrong!?", I said rather annoyed, because I figured it was something petty with my sister or something, (she was always having problems)
"Your brother has commited suicide." She said very timidly.
"I'll be there right away!", I screamed in to the phone.
I took the phone and threw it across the room, in front of our friends. Troy looked at me crazy and said, "What the hell?!" because I just threw the new phone that we got for a christmas gift. I threw myself onto the bed and wailed, "My brother's killed himself, my brother's killed himself!!!"
I remember searching for my shoes so we could leave. I realized I didn't really know where to go! The hospital? My Mom's? So I called my Mama. Scott answered the phone. I frantically asked where I should go. He said, "Just come here, honey." I remember asking, "Is he okay? What happened? Is he dead?"
Yes, sweetheart, he is dead.", Scott said.
I couldn't get there fast enough. I screamed at Troy because he wasn't hurrying like I wanted. I cussed at every red light on the way and was climbing all over the car. We lived 40 miles from the house but it seemed more like 40 years! I remember pulling up to the house and there was nowhere to park. This big Coroner's van was in our place!!! Troy pulled into the neighbor's driveway to turn around and I sprinted out of the car and ran to the house.
I was immediately stopped by a big policeman and held back, because my brother was only about 15 feet away. I tried wrestling though him and I screamed, "My brother....that's MY BROTHER!!!!"
The officer was a nice man and held me close. My brother's body was still there and he didn't want me to see him. I WANTED TO SEE HIM!!! I don't know why, but to this day I wish I had! I couldn't believe that my Billy was dead! I wish I could have bulldozed though those men and held him!!! I regret not trying. I could see his feet, but that is all. I didn't see blood.
I ran upstairs, (the house was a raised ranch type and my brother's room was downstairs) and that's when I saw my poor Mama and my sister. (You see, my little sister is the one who found him...I will not go into detail at this time as to what she experienced for I don't wan't to invade her privacy like that.) My mother was hysterical....she had been away at a in- law family function thing when she got the news and she was nearly insane by what she had to come home to.
My sister...my poor little sister. She was huddled in a chair, cradling her legs, rocking back and forth moaning. She had spent some time with Billy after she had found him. She had called the police after spending a substantial amount of time with him, loving, crying and cradling his body. She was in shock, as we all were, but I believe she really holds a burden of that memory more than any of us could ever know.
I remember trying to comfort my Mom and Sister but was really not in any shape to offer support. I was in shock. I couldn't believe it. My brother....my Billy. It couldn't be real, this couldn't be happening.
I remember sneaking to my Mom's room down the hall. There were two big windows in her room that looked out over the front yard and drive. I stayed there, peering out of the curtains, staring at that big shiny black van. I was waiting...I waited until they brought my brother out in a black bag on a gurney. I stood there alone and watched those men lift him into the back, shut the doors and drive away.
My baby brother was gone....forever.
After the police had gone and my step father had cleaned up Billy's room, I immediately ran downstairs and started searching through his things. I was looking for ANY clue that would tell us WHY this had happened. I went through his drawers, his closet, his school books ....everything. I remember some of my cousins were staring at me like I was nuts as they sat in the adjacent family room. I didn't find anything...not anything relevant. I did find a slip of paper from a magazine that had a few droplets of blood on it. I stuck it in my pocket and I still have it to this day in my jewerly box.
His funeral was satisfactory. There were many kids who came to the visitation just to be nosey and gossip in my opinion. Billy's so called girlfriend even tried to bring a camera to take pictures (little punk)..she never even contacted our family afterwards. We had his favorite music playing on a shelf-top stereo. It was the music Billy loved and listened to...some of it was Heavy Metal type ballads and in hind-sight, I suppose some of it might have been innappropriate, but he loved his music. But all in all, the actual service was beautiful. The priest read a poem I had written about Billy and his Tiger Eyes. It was lovely and horrible at the same time.
My brother looked very nice really. He had on a black sweatshirt with a grey collar, matching jeans and big black boots. I remember his hair didn't look quite right and my mother and I tried to brush it so it would lay right. But other than that, he looked very peaceful and nice. I could not see any trauma from the gunshot, but I did notice a bit of plastic behind his head. I remember the kind pastor telling my mother that he looked like a little priest lying there. She smiled knowing that if Billy had heard that he would have gotten a big laugh.
When I approached the casket at the end of the funeral, I kissed him on his lips and told him I loved him and one of my tears fell on his hand. I didn't brush it away. My brother was cremated following the funeral and my Mother, sister's and I picked out a beautiful urn for his ashes. It is ebony and gold with a small gold cross on the front. We saw it on the shelf along the wall of the funeral home displayed next to many others and that certain one called to us right off the bat. I believe that he wouldn't have picked any other one himself.
Life has been difficult for my family since this happened. But we have all tried our best to move on and live happy lives. The pain of losing my brother haunts me everyday and I will bear that scar for as long as I live. I have gone from year to year still expecting him to call and imagining what a cool Uncle he would now be.
Sometimes I am angry that he's gone and sometimes the pain is overwhelming and it hurts to walk around living when he is not. With much support from family and loving my brother through my children, the good days are abundant but I will never "get past" losing him or forget.
My brother's urn now stays in a special room of my mother's home. It's called her angel room. This room is filled with angel figurines and pictures of all of us kids. The last time I visited my brother was a little over a year ago, (my mother lives in Alabama now....far from us). As I sat there with Billy in the angel room, I looked around and a feeling of peace washed over me.
His ashes are surrounded by pictures of his sisters, brother, neices and nephews and the things he loved so he is never alone. It is a refuge for me and a kind of tribute to his life. As I looked at the beautiful things that surrounded my brother, I knew he was at peace...
And we will Never be apart.
I love you Billy. I'll never stop missing you.
Written by,
Kelly Dawn Falder
July 18th, 2002
kfalder@kc.rr.com writes:
Sister of Billy,
Aug 23rd, 1978 - Dec. 26th, 1992
GSW to head
Only fourteen, but his life will live in us forever.
