Up until I was twelve, there are very few memories I have that do not include Billy. Sleeping in the yard during the warm summer nights, climbing the apple tree in the back yard, sneaking over to the canal and catching leeches or playing on the ice even though mom told us not to, and of course playing with other kids in the neighborhood both in the snow and during the warm summer days. As he got a
bit older he didn’t want his little sister tagging along as much, but I still tried because I looked up to him and wanted to be cool like he was. Growing up we used to go camping a lot. We had a big canvas Army tent, big enough that it had a little wood stove in there to keep us warm. We would pack everything into the station wagon and drive until we found a creek, river or lake then unpack and enjoy the great outdoors for a few days. We would sometimes just go for the weekend, sometimes for a week and once we camped the entire summer by the Williamson River outside of Chiloquin. I remember loving those trips because Billy and I would make up new games and just play all day long. Those were the times we got along best, the times that made him not only my big brother but my friend. Even when we weren’t camping we still had some great times together. One summer Billy and I decided that we were going to collect night crawlers out of the back yard and sell them to a local bait shop. We would water the yard late in the afternoon, then once it got dark we would head outside with flashlights and tip toe around the back yard sneaking up on these big beautiful worms. Once we got a hold of them we would gently pull them out of their hole trying not to break them in half and then put them all in to little containers to take to the bait shop. He always got so frustrated with me because I would celebrate each catch, which he claimed scared the other worms back in to their holes. I don’t remember how much money we made, but it always makes me smile remembering those nights sneaking up on the worms. In the spring we would almost always plant a big garden on the back of the lot we lived on, which was always a lot of work and we had to eat gross things like Brussels sprouts and beans but those carrots sure were yummy. We used to get in trouble for going out there after school and eating the strawberries and carrots that were ready to pick. There was also a little walkway between our fence and the neighbor’s fence behind us that had some wild rhubarb we always looked forward to snacking on as well. One year we did not have a garden. That same year one of the cars wasn’t running quite right and just sat out behind the house. Billy discovered that if he hooked up the battery charger right after mom left for work that it would charge enough for some afternoon entertainment, and coincidentally the garden area was just big enough for that car to drive in a small circle. I would ride in the back seat while he drove and then when the battery died he and his friends would push and I would drive it back to the exact spot it was that morning. This went on until we hit the neighbor’s fence and he told mom what we were doing. Billy took all the blame and the punishment and told her I had nothing to do with it at all. That was not the first, or the last time, he would protect me. I have never forgotten how scared I was to get in trouble, or how relieved, surprised and grateful I was that he took all the blame. There were a few years that we spent some of our summer vacation from school with our grandparents on the Oregon Coast. There were two distinctly different beaches where they lived: If you went North it was a normal sandy beach with a few rocks scattered about making it easy to fly a kite or build a sandcastle. If you went South it was a mass of rocks bigger than houses, all piled together to make a mile long paradise of cracks and crevasses that sea life got trapped in, and made for the most fantastic playground. They lived about a block from the path that lead to these beaches so, even though we were technically not allowed to go past a certain point on the path, we often snuck down there to play in the tide pools and search for agates. We were always careful to stay away from the waves because we were told stories about kids being swept into the ocean and dying. Those were some of the best times of my life. Of all the places I have traveled over the years, that city and exploring those giant rocks is my favorite place in the world. Life was far from perfect but back then but looking back, having Billy there with me made life a bit easier and I thought he would be the one to save us (me) from the bad stuff. Then one Saturday Billy and our step dad got up early to go outside of town, where there was less traffic, so Billy could work on learning how to drive. The day before that, is the last day I ever saw my brother. I remember nothing about that Friday or Saturday, but I do remember the next day, Sunday June 16th 1984. Our step dad told mom that, after their day of driving, he had dropped Billy off at a friend’s house to stay the night. He had stayed there plenty of times before so there was no reason for mom to worry, until Sunday evening when Billy didn’t come home for dinner at 6:00 as planned. Because Billy was never late, at 6:05 mom started to worry and by 6:30 she was panicking. She started calling everyone she knew, the hospital and then the police. Later that night mom took our cordless house phone down to the neighbor’s house in case Billy called, and then we randomly drove around town hoping to see him along the side of the road somewhere. I remember how upset my mom was and the feeling of wanting to do something but not knowing what to do or how to find him. I remember that specific feeling because it has never left me. I was twelve years old and scared because my mom was so scared. I remember sitting in the police station hearing the conversation but I didn’t yet completely understand what was happening. Then a week or so later, one of my fish died. I remember crying for hours over that fish, although at some point during that time it switched from crying about my fish to crying about my brother. I still remember that moment, the moment I realized my brother was missing. The moment I realized he was no longer there to protect me. June 2014 will be thirty years since that day he didn’t come home, the day that is recorded as the date he went missing. Many nights I have cried myself to sleep worrying if he was safe, warm, hungry or lonely. For years I would scan faces in a crowd hoping I would see him. To this day I have a recurring daydream that someone will call me and tell me they found him, and we will have one of those emotional reunions at the airport that you see on TV. Through the years the days have gotten easier and the tears don’t come as often. But, I still miss him and I still think of him every day. Billy and I did not always get along, we had our arguments like any brother and sister, but I remember more good times than bad. Not having him here is a constant reminder that people I care about can be gone from my life in the blink of an eye. The search to find him has been heartbreaking at times but it has also taught me about inner strength, determination and perseverance. My hope is that one day memories of Billy and our search for him, will be a driving force in helping other families looking for their loved ones. His memory also drives me to want to help kids from abusive homes so that they know someone is always there to protect them. Billy is, and will always be, a part of who I am. Over time I have come to believe that he will never come home, but without absolute proof that he is gone forever I will always have a glimmer hope that I will see him again someday. That ‘someday’, is the reason I continue to search for him. I am thankful that some have found a way to mourn the loss of Billy and say goodbye. I have not yet found my way say goodbye, and until I do, I will keep searching. Whether he is alive or dead, for both myself and for him, my heart tells me that I need to try my best to find him and to use those great memories I have of him to drive me to make a positive change in the world.
