Today, my second born son would have been 34 years old.
|Daniel, Bill, and Sam|
By the time he was three, he had had enough of being called "Billy". Stomping his foot, he would correct people- "NOT Billy! I BILL!"
Bill grew up.
He LOVED babies and small children. He was very smart, graduating with honors.
His favorite baby turned out to be his daughter, Nickole.
It seems that Bill was always getting hurt. It was the family joke that if Bill called and said "Guess where I am?", you stood a good chance of being right if you answered "In the Emergency Room?"
Somewhere along the way, Bill became addicted to prescription drugs. He alternately denied being addicted with battling the addiction.
|April 29, 1981- March 10, 2012|
In the end, the drugs won. He left behind a family that loved him no matter what. A beautiful daughter that won't have Daddy to encourage her and cheer her on as she graduates from school. He won't be there walk her down the aisle when she gets married. He isn't there to call when the computer goes on the fritz, or I need to know how to transfer pictures from a card to a disk.
I can't call him to ask if the wild plums are ready to pick.
When you bring home your sweet little newborn, you imagine what they will be like as an adult. You have high hopes and grand aspirations.
You never imagine losing them. If you could know how their life would actually turn out, it would just be too much to handle.
|Dakota and Bill|
My last picture of him.
I am told that some day, these anniversaries will be easier to get through. I am getting better. I can talk about him without tears much of the time. But special occasions still get to me. Just have to live each day as it is dealt.
Thanks for listening.