Bill, My Brother

Bill died when he was 19 years old. He was in a car accident; while traveling home from Desert Hot Springs, in California, with his best friend and a hitch-hiking passenger.

I was a sixteen year old sophomore; a young girl who seriously idolized her so hip yet, down-to-earth friendly, always-had-time-for-me, artistically inclined, nice looking, wild-long-blond-haired brother.

I remember as a small child, Bill and I were one of the four youngest kids in our family that took day trips with our parents. Fun times, for sure. It wasn't until I was in high school, though, that I really began to realize what an impact Bill had on me; the way I saw myself and the potential of being someone special.

Insecurity ruled me during those it will get better years. I was so focused on worrying about how I was perceived by others that I forgot to just have fun. When I was a freshman, Bill was a senior. He warmed my heart, pushed my I'm an awesome person button, simply by acknowledging my presence as he was walking passed. He would literally stop - group of friends in tow - approach me, smile, say hi, and hug me before he continued his journey. Just that gave me confidence.

When two police officers walked up the drive, onto our unpaved, pebble-filled porch I was lounging on an aging, wooden, reclining-type outdoor chaise. Interesting, I thought. "What did one of my brothers do now?" I asked; jokingly. "Do you know Bill P.?" one of them asked me. My heart skipped a beat. "Yeah, he's my brother," I responded quietly. At this point I began wondering if maybe they should be talking to my parents, not me; a too-young girl that loved her brother more than he ever knew. "He was in a car accident. He was killed," the officer stated.

Did I hear right? My heart was beating so fast. I stumbled out of the chair, fell into the house and tried with all my might to scream; to alert my mom and dad that I needed them. "What is it?" my mom asked, or maybe it was my dad standing next to me. I don't remember. "There are some cops out there, saying Bill died," I choked out. Their eyes grew wide; yet they seemed confused. I opened the front door without a word, pushed them towards it.

Life was a blur for quite a while after that. School needed my attention but I couldn't even stay in my music class, to learn the graduation song for the upcoming graduates. It made me cry. I left the room. My brother, Kit, just watched me leave. I could see in his eyes he was hurting, too. The music teacher didn't object when I quietly left the classroom, tears in my eyes. I don't even remember what I did after that. Maybe I just left, walked the mile home. People were very kind, but I was so wrapped up in trying to figure out why?, why did Bill have to die?, that I didn't let them in; to console me.

I lost a very important person; someone who helped form the way I think, the way I am, today. Sadly, he never knew. All I can believe is that he watches me, sees I'm doing fine. He's everywhere; in some of the behaviors of my kids, especially in Roberto. He's in artwork I see framed around my world. He's in friendships I observe - the charisma that draws people to others; and in stories I read about brothers caring about sisters, sisters caring for brothers.

Here I sit, thinking about Bill, my brother. I am fortunate to have had someone very special in my life; someone who travels in my thoughts, reminding me to make the most of everything - take nothing for granted! Daily, I take the time to slow down, live in the moment, to observe my world, and appreciate the good things ... you never know what happens next.