|
Bill would have been 36
tomorrow
This week (Nov 13, 1997) brings another hurdle to our home and we will do as
we always do when we are faced with one ... we will deal with it. Bill would
have been 36 years old tomorrow, Friday, Nov. 14. I think I will just talk about
him for awhile. It helps.
All of our kids have gotten a "sermon" from me at one time or the other, so now
so shall you. Or you could turn the page!
Bill was the son that was born by appointment, in a doctor's office in New
Mexico. He was the happiest baby/little boy on earth. His grandmother, Ann
Cordry, called him "Hap," short for Happy Hooligan. He had these two deep
dimples that other mothers could never resist the temptation to stick their
fingers in.
When he was four or five years old, he was playing outside in the sand with his
friend and we hear this blood-curdling cry and run for him. Ed picked him up and
carried him (kicking and screaming) into the house. As he continued to cradle
Bill on one arm, he was trying to get him to stop crying and tell Dad what was
wrong. The kid
continued to kick and scream and Ed realized there was a problem in Bills play
shorts. He pulled the shorts down and there before our eyes was a lizard that
had attached himself to Bill! The pliers were used to remove the crazy thing.
Next, a friend and her children had come over to visit one night and the kids
played as we played Scrabble. Bill comes running into the dining room with an
artist's paint brush handle sticking out of his mouth, going ahhhh-ahhhh-
ahhhh. I reacted by taking it from his mouth before checking out the situation.
Then I looked in the mouth. There was no blood, nothing, and we continued to
play. After about five minutes she asked where the ferrule and horse-
hairs were and the hunt was on. To make a long story short, we ended up in
Albuquerque where the ferrule and brush were removed from its precarious
location, lodged against the spine. He had been jumping on the bed with the
brush in his mouth and fell, cramming the ferrule through his gums in the molar
area and it just traveled on it's way to the spine.
When we lived in California his older brother and sister buried him to his neck
in the sand and he was hypothermic when they remembered where he was and got
him.
By the summer he turned 12, this happy-go-lucky boy turned into a six-foot-tall,
200+pound man who would become terrified by we knew not what, and was totally
misunderstood by his classmates. He would go outdoors
after dark and cry out to God, asking, "why me, what have I done?" He would not
talk to us about his problems, nor would he talk to anyone else. His sister was
his lifeline.
I felt he was being molested by someone; he denied it. The "Q" and "H" words
popped through my mind occasionally, but for me, if I said the words out loud,
his homosexuality would be confirmed and my heart would die. I expect the same
applied to his father.
This sad, lonely young man went on to graduate (CHS) and entered the Navy. He
was so proud to be in the service. While there he became involved in alcohol and
drugs, which allowed him to hide from himself, and eventually went into
recommended psychoanalysis. There, he also learned to allow himself to be Bill;
to be self-
assured and free, if you will.
After his discharge, Bill came home one summer and brought a friend. For
support? I expect so. He took me out onto the patio and told me his deepest,
darkest secret. I will never forget sitting there looking at my darling precious
little boy with the dimples and wanting to slap his face for making me see Bill,
the man. Ed, too, was devastated. Our hearts cried.
What do we do, throw him out and never allow him back in? Thank God that was
never even considered. I cannot imagine anyone literally throwing away a child.
No matter what happens, he or she is still your child. Hate the
malady, but my gosh, love your child, he or she could die today.
One more paragraph. Several summers ago my mother and sister Sandi were
visiting. All of us, including Bill, were visiting when one of us mentioned that
we "knew" Bill was homosexual when he was 12; the other "knew" it when he was
eight, etc. Bill just started crying and asked us why, if we knew it, why didn't
one of us tell him we knew? Why did he, as a child, have to go through all of
the turmoil and torment alone. He said, "My God, you guys knew
and no one said anything? Do you know how that makes me feel? No child should
ever have to carry such a huge burden alone!" He is so right! If I had just
known!
If you're reading this and you have a sad, troubled child, you must find out the
cause. It could be something as simple as a freckle someone made fun of. I
tried. But did I really? No, not too hard ... I feared I knew and I was too
afraid of the truth. We don't have to like what we learn, but the fact remains
that he/she is still our child and we
always love our child.
If I have given just one person something to think about and you have questions
that need answering, please, please, please ask your child. Then listen real
hard to his answer. It may hurt, but we as parents need to be as strong as the
child has to be to tell his secret.
This will be my birthday present to Bill.
TOP
This column won an award from the SD Newspaper Association
in 1998
|