Some Thoughts of Billy on his birthday
Today is the birthday of my friend’s only son who was killed by a neighbor. I did not remember his birthday, but yesterday I had a strong need to call my friend Razia. I could not get the thought of Billy from my head. I kept remembering him and my son’s friendship.
Billy’s facial features were almost identical to his mother. He was the color of coffee with a lot of cream. He was such a pleasant child to be around. He was so smart and sweet. He was soft spoken and shy around strangers. He had such patience with smaller children. He treated them as equals and this was what attracted my son to him. He got my son interested in comic books and computers. I have often wondered if my son lost interest in both things because Billy could no longer share them with him. He will not discuss it but when we returned to Michigan he insisted that I find Billy to see if he had kept up with all the comic books and to talk to him about a game he was developing. So we drove around neighborhoods trying to locate Billy. I remembered the street but I was not sure of the house. So we stopped and asked people if they knew where Billy Curtis lived. I knew that he had been accepted at the University of Michigan and was afraid we would not be able to contact him. One boy looked at me with such shock when I asked about Billy that I instinctively knew something was wrong. I was directed to Billy’s home and Razia showed me the Oprah Show on Save Our Son’s and Daughters in which mother’s discussed the death of their children from guns. Razia told me that the neighbor had come and asked Billy to come and see something. Billy had to go to work and did not have time. The neighbor insisted. When Billy entered the door, the neighbor shot him dead. The neighbor was not prosecuted and Razia had to live next door to the boy who killed her son. Razia was stoic but I knew the death of Billy hurt her deeply. I wanted to hold her but she had built a shell around herself that seemed impenetrateable. I knew that there was more to the story because Bill, her husband was no longer in the home and a support group had formed for dinner meals. To Razia, family was everything. I had seen her make enormous sacrifices to keep her family together when most people would have given up. Being a Social Worker, I knew there was a story there but I did not pry. I became a part of this support group —Healing Support Network. Our friendship has lasted over thirty five years. Somehow today, I thought of Billy and Razia. I had made a fresh peach pie, not knowing that a peach cobbler had been Billy’s last meal at breakfast the day he died. Razia told me Bill had called and asked if everyone had there peach cobbler. He remembered.
I will meditate and pray and remember the good things about this special child that God loaned Razia for a time. I have been through the white light and a voice told me that I must go back because it was not my time so I know that it was his time or the bullet would not have killed him. I will celebrate his life today and his friendship with my son.
